Always and Forever (17 page)

Sinead and Sean got up at eight. They were both supposed to help Brie today with heavy lifting at one of the houses. Pat watched them, his eyes gritty and his stomach churning. “Morning, guys.”

His older son’s expression was bleak. He’d taken Laurie home about four a.m. and obviously hadn’t gotten much sleep. He poured himself coffee,
a new thing for him. “Hi, Dad.”

Sean grunted, went to the cupboard for cereal and the fridge for milk. Pat let him eat, and by the time he’d finished, Kathleen had come to the table. She had some food, too, then Pat said, “I need to talk to you three.”

Sinead put his hand on Kathleen’s shoulders. She leaned into him.

Sean scowled. He looked a lot like Brie, with lighter hair and eyes
than his siblings. “This is about Mom, isn’t it? Why she wasn’t here when I went to bed last night.”

“Uh-huh.” He cleared his throat. “She never made it home, and we’re worried that something happened to her.”

His second son’s jaw dropped. “
What?
You said she just got held up, to go to bed and everything would be good in the morning.”

“We weren’t sure if anything was wrong, and I didn’t
want to upset you until we knew for sure.”

Tears welled in Kathleen’s eyes. “Mommy’s not here?”

“No, baby. That’s why we’re worried.”

“Mommy’ll come home, I know.”

“I agree. We have important people workin’ to find her. They’ll be here today, and probably some of our family will come out. You both need to know why.”

“What people?” Sean asked. Now his tone was belligerent.

“The FBI.”

“I remember when Uncle Clay got to be president. Uncle Liam and Mom talked to us about kid--” He broke off as if he couldn’t say the words aloud. “Fuck.” Sean threw back his chair and bolted out of the room. Pat started to go after him, but Sinead held his arm. “I’ll go dad. He’s fourteen. He’s embarrassed for you to see him cry.”

Kathleen burst into tears. Pat tugged her
onto his lap, savoring the solid weight of her as she burrowed into him. He stroked her long dark hair. There wasn’t much else he could do.

Eventually, Irene came down from Isabella’s room. Kathleen threw herself at the beloved nanny. “Shh, little one. Things will work out.”

God, Pat hoped so.

Around ten, his family arrived. Aidan and Liam had left at three this morning and brought
their wives back with them. First Liam and Sophie, then Aidan and C.J and the baby, then—Pat was surprised—Dylan and Rachel. Overwhelmed by the support, Pat hugged Dylan first. “I didn’t want to make things worse for you.”

“Thanks, but we’re here for you. Liam told us everything.” He nodded to the front of the house. “You have company?”

“Yeah, the FBI put two officers here all night. To
watch us, and in case we get”—he broke off and moisture welled in his eyes—“a ransom call.”

Dylan hugged him tighter.

Including them all in a glance, he said, “Who’s manning the pub?”

“We closed it.” Aidan made the comment.

“
What?
We never close.”

“This time we did.”

The rarity of shutting down Bailey’s made Pat feel worse, like this was a real tragedy.

Rachel came
to him with open arms. He started to say something to her about her situation and she whispered, “Shh. Not now.”

For an hour, they all sat talking, then the doorbell rang. Patrick got up and flew to answer it.

Mariana and Joseph Paresi stood on the stoop. For some reason, he thought ludicrously, they never walked right in like his family did. Their eyes were bloodshot and they looked older,
too. He’d phoned both sets of parents continually throughout the night.

“Patrick,” Mariana said after they stepped inside.

Despite their estrangement, he hugged the woman. Brie would have wanted him to. He clapped Joseph on my back. “Come wait with the family.”

His mother and father arrived next. Pa was red faced, and Ma’s eyes were bleak. “I’m so sorry, son.”

“I know, Pa.”

His ma, Mary Kate, held rosary beads. “We’re praying for her, boy.”

They were going to need a lot more than prayers.

Everyone settled into the living room, in the front of the house. Irene brought Isabella and she perched on Pat’s lap, cooing and smiling at her family, gathered like this was a party. She had no idea what could happen to their lives.

An hour later, there was commotion
outside. Pat went to the window and watched several black SUVs pull up in front of the house. The sight of his baby sister climbing out of the back of one, with her husband behind her, had Pat resting his forehead on the cold glass, battling back the tears.

Bailey and Clay were ushered inside by a band of Secret Service agents. All but two of them went back out, some in the
pool area, some trying to be inconspicuous out front or sitting in parked vehicles. Bailey knew they’d cause a stir, but their presence couldn’t be hidden.

Her heart clenched as she embraced Patrick. “This is awful, Paddy.”

“I know, honey.”

Clay’s face was ravaged, had been since he learned what had happened. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m keepin’ it together.” He stepped back.
“I’m surprised to see you both.”

“Of course we’d come to support you.”

Pat shrugged then glanced over at the two agents who’d followed them in; they were stone-faced. He nodded to them. Bailey knew Pat and Mitch Calloway had gotten close over the past years. Brie had always said he looked like George Clooney without the gray hair.

Clay cleared his throat. “We came to show our support,
and we also need to talk to you, Pat. And your parents and brothers.”

Pat grabbed Clay’s coat sleeve. “Have you heard something?”

“No, I’ll notify you immediately if I do. But I want to give you an update on what we’re doing, as well as discuss some other things.”

Her brother sighed heavily. “Everybody’s in the living room.” Which was to the left of the foyer.

“Kids, too?”

“Kathleen and Isabella.”

“Can you get them out for a while? I don’t want them to hear this yet. It’ll be better coming from you.”

When they entered the room, Bailey went right to Kathleen and hugged her. Then she turned to Rachel. She hugged her tight.

Rachel held her close. “I appreciated the calls.”

She greeted Brie’s parents, kissed her ma and pa and hugged the rest of her family.
Pat called Irene to get the little ones. Sinead and Sean were still upstairs.

When the adults were alone, Clay dropped down into one of the chairs the agents had retrieved from the kitchen. Bailey stood behind him.

Clay said, “We only know what you know, as of six a.m., but I’m being briefed hourly. We received a report on the way down here from Phillip Carson. I want to assure you the
full force of the FBI is behind this investigation.”

“We appreciate that,” Aidan said.

“But we have to consider all possibilities,” Clay continued. “And one is she was taken because of me.”

Joseph grabbed his wife’s hand. “We thought of that, but why Brie?”

“Maybe accessibility.”

Dylan asked, “You really think it’s political?”

“I don’t know. But we have to prepare for that
eventuality.”

“What does that mean?” Pa asked.

“First, the FBI will set up in the house, in case you receive a call—either a demand for me or a ransom for Brie. Second, each member of our family will be assigned a Secret Service agent to stay with you at all times until this is over, and maybe afterward, depending on the outcome.”

“I want the coverage.” Dylan looked at Rachel, whose
face was drawn. “We don’t need any more bad luck.”

“No,” she agreed. “We don’t.”

Bailey crossed to Pat and sat down next to him, took his hand. “If this is because of us, I’m so sorry, Paddy.”

Pa straightened. “It’s not anybody’s fault but the people who took her.”

Bailey looked at Pa. “Thanks.”

But the Paresis got up and walked out of the room.

Brie awoke
with a start. Her arm stung. She struggled to turn over, to see where she was, but she couldn’t move. She heard a voice. A man’s voice. “There, there,” he said. “Just a little something for you to relax again. For a while longer. Then we can have a meal together. It’s been so long. So, so long.”

“Patrick,” she mumbled. “I want Patrick.”

“No, I’m sorry that’s not possible. That will never
be possible again.”

At noon, C.J. and Sophie convinced the kids to go in the pool with them. Sinead, still trying to help, went along and said he’d play their favorite games. It was blistering hot outside, but the air cooled the house. Clay holed up in the den to make some calls. The FBI had set up phone monitoring on Brie’s desk. Ma and Pa went upstairs to rest in Sinead’s
room, because it had the biggest bed, and the Paresis had gone outside to the front porch. His brothers and sister settled on the sunroom. Pat came back from the kitchen with his umpteenth cup of coffee. “Everybody’s scattered.”

“Not us.” Bailey patted the couch next to her. “Come sit here with me.”

Pat dropped down by Bailey.

"Clay’s trying to decide if he should stay in town.”

“He can go back. He’s got a country to run.”

“It isn’t that. Lindsay McMann is a great vice president and will handle day-to-day stuff. Clay can Skype into any meeting he’s needed at. But we’re worried about the press. My presence could be seen as a visit, that I want to be with my family, but it’ll look odd for Clay to be taking time off so soon after assuming office.” She sighed. “And you’ve
gone to the police. It’s only a matter of time until someone lets that slip, and reporters will descend on us.”

Rachel leaned forward. She seemed small and vulnerable, Pat thought, in contrast to her former strength and stamina. “If this goes on much longer, something will get out. The agents hovering around here. The pub closing.”

Returning to the living room in time to hear her comment,
Clay jammed his hands in his pockets and shook his head. “That’s what the FBI director just said on the phone. It’s going to be hard to keep Brie’s disappearance quiet.”

“Would it hurt or help us if the public knew?” Aidan asked.

“I don’t know as though we have a choice. It’s going to get out any time now.” He turned to Rachel. “I know you’re recovering from an ordeal a few days ago, Rachel,
but my press secretary thinks you should cover the story, if it comes to that.”

Dylan grasped her hand. “The family will be hounded.”

“Maybe not as badly if Rachel asks for her colleagues’ cooperation. In any case, giving a statement first is bound to dilute some of the press’s hysteria.”

“How long do we wait?” Rachel asked.

“The director said a couple more hours.”

“Are you
going back to D.C.?” This from Dylan.

“I can work from here if the latest crisis in Turkey calms down.”

Bailey sighed. “Are we done? I want to go out to the pool.”

Pat saw Mitch roll his eyes. “Ms. O’Neil, I…”

“…wish I wouldn’t. I know. But I need some air. You already got guys out there, and an eight-foot fence surrounds the area.”

She stood and so did Clay. He asked, “Pat,
mind if I use your office for a bit longer?”

“Consider it yours as long as you’re here. Close the door so you won’t be disturbed.”

When Clay and Bailey left, Dylan stretched out in the lounger. Patrick went to sit next to Rachel on the adjacent couch. She took his hand but said nothing.

“You should be resting.”

Nodding to her casual pants and shirt, she said, “I am. I want to be
here.” She squeezed his hand. “Besides, I’ve been sleeping for almost forty-eight hours.”

“How you doin’ about all that?” he asked quietly.

“Still sad, of course. But better, now that Dylan’s here.”

“I wasn’t good enough for you, lass?” He tried to joke, but his tone fell flat.

Her face was grave. “I’ll never in my life forget what you did for me, Patrick. Never. So don’t worry
about me. Concentrate on your wife. And let me help, if need be.”

Blowing out a heavy breath, he whispered, “I’m still recoverin’ from telling the kids.”

“I’m sure you were wonderful with them.”

“Thanks.” He stood again—he couldn’t sit still. “Stretch out. Close your eyes. I’m gonna go take a shower.”

“All right.” After she lay down, he draped a light throw over her.

“You should
rest, too.” This from Aidan, who put his feet up on the table and linked his hands behind his head.

“Maybe I will.”

But he’d told a lie. He wouldn’t rest until Brie was found.

Upstairs, Pat shut the bedroom door, leaned against it and moaned. The space smelled like her. Lotion. A hint of perfume. And the essence that was his wife. He crossed to the vanity in the bedroom and picked
up a hairbrush. Dark red strands clung to the plastic. Pat had kept it at bay all night long, but now he remembered how mad he’d been two nights ago when he was in this room with her. What if that was the last time they’d be together?

No, no, he wouldn’t think that way. Instead he lay down on her side of the bed. The pillow smelled like her. When he started to picture her being taken, and
God only knew what was happening to her, he said aloud, “Think of something pleasant.”

So, in his head, he replayed the first time he saw Gabriella Paresi. He’d had no idea where the chance encounter would lead…

He’d been twenty-six and fairly full of himself, probably because the group at the end of the bar…college girls…were flirting with him. All but one. Wouldn’t you know, it was the
redhead who ignored his Irish charm? She sat off to the side, watching the baseball game on TV, sipping coffee. They’d all eaten here earlier.

He made his way down to her and braced his hands on the edge of the bar. “You a Yankee fan?” he asked.

Her hazel eyes held mischief. “Is there any other kind?”

“Not for me. We’re big supporters of the Bronx Bombers.”

Her phone rang, and
when she moved her head, her hair swirled with her. Up close, he could see it was thick and straight, down to her waist, just begging for a man’s hands.