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nervous, wondering what her fevered mind might be concocting to make his life even more complicated.
    The sound of Bowen’s gravelly voice refocused his attention. “On the other hand, we have everything in place in Mingo County. We’re just waiting on the word from you to spring into action.”
    Governor Vincent glanced down at his watch. It was 10:30 a.m. “Let’s crunch the numbers one last time. But go ahead and tell those boys to get ready to roll. I don’t think we can wait any longer.”
    Vincent’s cell phone suddenly started buzzing and vibrating. Removing it from his belt clip, the governor saw he had a new multimedia message from a number he did not recognize.
    “What you got there, Luke?” Bowen asked.
    “Don’t know yet. A new message of some sort.” Vincent hit a button on his phone to retrieve the message.
    The governor stared at the screen as his phone downloaded the message. Its subject line read, “Still Waiting” and there was a video clip attached to it. Clicking the attachment, he watched the blue progress bar slowly advance across the screen, widening from left to right as the download neared completion. Finally, the clip began to play and his face turned pale.
    The screen depicted the inside of a Charleston hotel suite he recognized. A close friend owned the hotel and Vincent used the facility on occasions when discretion was required.
    “So who do you think is going to win tonight, Governor?”
    Vincent felt a cold chill migrate down his spine. The sultry voice blaring from the phone belonged to Tabatha McCallen.
    His fingers frantically flew across the phone’s touchscreen. Unalloyed fear tore at his heart. Has someone finally uncovered my lies? Who could have recorded this? How did they get my private cell phone number? And why did they send me this ?
    “Definitely Marshall,” he heard his own voice declare.
    “WVU’s defense can’t stop our three-point shooters.”
    A quizzical look crossed Dick Bowen’s face as he strained his neck, attempting to get a look at the phone’s screen. “What was that?”
    Vincent shut off the clip and the dialogue abruptly stopped. “Nothing. Just a TV interview I did back in February right before the WVU/Marshall basketball game.”
    Bowen’s visage turned from quizzical to skeptical. “Why would someone send a nine-month-old television interview to your cell phone?”
    Think , Vincent told himself. Think quickly. “One of our media consultants,” he said slowly, attempting to buy some time to make the lie more believable. “He’s been complaining about my ties. Says they’re too ‘flashy’ and turn voters off. I guess he decided to send me that clip as an example of a tie he thinks would work better for me.”
    Bowen eyed him closely, saying nothing. The room was silent, save for the low crackling of the gas logs. The governor felt his palms turning clammy.
    “I can’t help you, Luke, if you don’t tell me the truth.”
    Vincent knew Bowen had his best interests at heart and truly wanted to help him. They had worked with one another for almost two decades. But to the best of his knowledge, the only three people who knew about his trysts with Tabatha McCallen were himself, the hotel owner, and the siren herself. And even the hotel owner didn’t know Tabatha’s real name.
    “You must think my life is a lot more interesting than it really is,” the governor said, cracking a grin. “Sorry to burst your bubble, Dick.”
    By the look on Bowen’s face, Vincent judged the man was unconvinced. But much to his relief, Bowen let the matter drop. “Well, tell that fancy ‘media consultant’ to postpone his wardrobe recommendations until after we get you elected, okay? Until then, we both have far more important things to worry about than what kind of friggin’ ties you should be wearing.”
    Vincent emitted a breezy laugh. “You got it.”
    Relief flooded the governor’s mind. Although he knew Bowen meant well, Vincent fully