Page 99 of Cabin Fever

Whitney, who wasn't a fan of my sister, excused herself and walked over to where Dad was on the couch.

"Why did he stop? I don't remember any outings with him. It was either the nanny or Mom or both who would take us out. Dad was never there."

Bea sighed and placed the champagne flute on the large fireplace mantle. "Let me show you something. It might explain a lot." She grabbed my hand and led me out of the room.

We maneuvered down the hall and up a small set of steps to my dad's private office. It was a small section of the house strictly used for his work. Below this room was a bathroom and the floor above was a meeting room—they were only accessible from his office. Except for the bathroom below had a door to the backyard.

I only came here when my father would request it. What I do remember about my dad when we were young was how he didn't want anyone in his office without his permission.

"I don't think we should be in here, Bea . . ."

She waved me off. "It's fine. There are too many big names at the party for Dad to come near his office tonight."

Despite my sister's reassurance, I stood rigid in the middle of the room, too fearful to get close to his desk.

She walked over to the large shelves of books on the wall beside his desk. Her finger slid over the different colored spines until she found the one she was looking for. With my fear ruling my brain, I thought when she pulled at the book, a secret door in the wall would open.

But it was only a book.

"Here we are." She flipped it open and a few pieces of paper fell out. Reaching down, she picked them up. Placing the book on the table, I saw it was a book on marketing calledWhy Women Fail at Marketing. Not surprised at all that my father had that book.

"Read this." She handed me one of the pieces of paper.

I opened it to find it was a letter from the White House. There was a stamp across the bottom marked confidential. How did my father have anything confidential from the White House?

A word caught my eye—Fitzwilliam. The more I read, the angrier I became. With that anger, my heart began to twist until it dripped with sadness. The fear that flashed in Carter's eyes every time I mentioned my hometown now made sense.

It wasn't that he would be hounded by journalists at his front door, it's that there were powerful people here that still wanted him dead.

Tears burned my eyes until I couldn't read another word. But I did see the one name that was the biggest shock. And he was in this house.

"The president?" I whispered as if saying it any louder might draw attention from the people several rooms away.

"Yes. And Dad played an unwilling part. The shooter was a manager at one of his stores. He had mentioned the guy was unstable to a senator. I never found out who the politician was, but a few days later, the manager Dad fired from his store was arrested for killing Carter's mom and baby sister."

There was so much disturbing information that I had trouble making sense of it.

"But that was a coincidence. I mean, Dad did just fire him. He was troubled."

Bea shook her head. "I wish that were true, Ollie. The man didn't own a gun and after the shooting, the gun conveniently disappeared. Do you know where the police finally found it?"

I swallowed and wondered if I wanted the answer to her question.

"No, and I don't think—"

"It was Dad's gun."

The room began to spin, and I clasped my hand over my mouth to muffle the cry that was welling up in my throat. I stumbled to the brown suede love seat that was flush against the banister which separated the stairs and the bathroom.

Bea came over and sat beside me. "Remember that break-in here at the house when we were in first grade? You swore your DVD collection of SpongeBob SquarePants was stolen by the robber, but they were under the mess of toys you pushed under your bed." We both laughed at the memory. "The robber took Dad's gun. That was the firearm used in the shooting. The police questioned Dad, but since the robber stole it before the shooting, it wasn't linked to him. I think that gun was taken on purpose, but I don't know if Dad staged the break-in or he was a victim, too."

She placed her hand on my arm and continued, "I promised Carter I wouldn't tell you I knew who he was, but it's obvious you know. I noticed you never told Mom his last name. That's not like you. If there was a chance of Mom liking Carter before she actually met him, you name-dropping Fitzwilliam was the way to go."

I nodded. "He told me before I left. But I thought he didn't want to come back here because of the paparazzi. I had no idea his life was at risk. Or maybe it isn't? It seems they only wanted his father dead, not his family."

"Here's the other piece of paper. It's a letter written after Carter's dad disappeared. It's by Senator John White, who I think might have been the one on the phone with Dad when I overheard the conversation. I still don't know because all Dad said was 'senator.' I tried to warn Carter when I was there, but every time I tried, you ended up popping up. Therefore, I kept my mouth shut."

The corrupt Senator White and his wife, who happened to be a senator herself, had been in the paper lately for various illegal activity. Some of it involving terrorists.

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