“Thank you again, Mrs. Armstrong,” Maddy said breathlessly, and she beamed at Greg as she hung up.

“Sounds like you were number one in the Armstrong ratings,” he said proudly. He had loved how she'd done it. It took a lot of courage even if the head of the network was her husband. Now she'd have to go home and live with the fallout. And as everyone knew, Jack Hunter wasn't always a sweetheart, especially when someone crossed him. And Maddy wasn't any more exempt than anyone else.

As Maddy started to tell Greg what Mrs. Armstrong had said, Jack strode over to them with a look of fury. He was in a rage.

“Did you know about this?” Jack shot at Greg, desperate to blame someone, anyone, everyone, he looked as though he wanted to strangle Maddy.

“Not exactly, but close enough. I knew she was going to say something,” Greg said honestly. He wasn't afraid of Jack, and although it was a well-kept secret, and he never said anything to Maddy about it, he didn't like Jack Hunter. He thought he was arrogant and overbearing and he didn't like the way he ran Maddy around, though he didn't comment on it to her. She had enough to deal with, without having to defend her husband.

“You could have stopped her,” Jack accused him, “you could have talked right over her, and ended it before it started.”

“I have too much respect for her to do that, Mr. Hunter. Besides, I agree with what she said. I didn't believe her when she told me about Janet McCutchins on Monday. This was a wake-up call to those of us who don't want to have to think about how desperate some women feel in abusive situations. It happens every day all around us. We just don't want to see it or hear it. But because of who she was married to, Janet McCutchins made us hear her. Maybe if enough people heard Maddy tonight, Janet McCutchins's death will mean something, and help someone. With all due respect, I think Maddy did the right thing.” His voice quavered as he said the last words, and Jack Hunter glared at him.

“I'm sure our sponsors are going to love us if we get sued.”

“Is that what McCutchins said on the phone?” Maddy asked with a look of concern. She wasn't sorry, but she hated causing Jack such distress. But in her mind, it had to be done. She had seen with her own eyes what McCutchins had already done to his wife, and she was willing to testify to it, if she had to. She had taken matters into her own hands on the air, whatever the potential cost to her or the network. To Maddy, it seemed worth it.

“He was making veiled threats, but the veil was very thin. He said he was calling his attorneys as soon as he hung up,” Jack said to her harshly.

“I don't think he'll get too far,” Greg said thoughtfully. “The evidence was apparently pretty damning. And Janet McCutchins spoke directly to Maddy. That should cover our asses.”

“‘Our’ asses, how noble of you, Greg,” Jack snapped at him. “As far as I know, mine is the only one on the line here. It was a goddamn stupid, irresponsible thing to do.” And with that, he stalked across the studio again, and went back upstairs to his own quarters.

“Are you okay?” Greg looked at Maddy with concern, and she nodded at him.

“I knew he'd be upset, but I hope we don't get sued.” She looked worried as she said it. She was hoping that McCutchins wouldn't dare sue them, and risk exposing himself.

“Did you tell him about the call from Phyllis Armstrong?”

“I didn't have time,” she confessed. “I'll tell him when we get home.”

But Maddy went home alone that night. Jack had called his attorneys in to review the tape and discuss it with them, and it was one o'clock in the morning when he got home to Georgetown. Maddy was still awake, but he didn't say a word to her as he walked purposefully across their bedroom to his bathroom.

“How did it go?” she asked cautiously as he turned and glared at her.

“I can't believe you'd do that to me. It was such a fucking stupid thing to do.” He might as well have slapped her. But all Jack did was hit her with angry looks and words. It was obvious that he felt she had betrayed him.

“The First Lady called just after we went off the air, she was very excited about the broadcast, and thought it was a brave thing to do. I'm going on her commission this week,” she said apologetically. She wasn't sure how she was going to make this up to him, but she would have to try now. She didn't want him to hate her over issues that came up at work.

“I already made that decision for you,” he said, looking daggers at her as she mentioned the Commission on Violence Against Women.

“I made it for myself,” she said quietly. “I have a right to do that, Jack.”

“Are you lobbying for women's rights now too, as well as the abused? Do I have an editorial about that to look forward to? Why don't we just get you your own goddamn show, you can talk your head off all day long, and forget the news.”

“If the First Lady liked it, how bad could it be?”

“Pretty goddamn bad, if McCutchins's lawyers say it is.”

“Maybe it'll calm down in a few days,” she said hopefully as he walked slowly toward the bed, and stopped finally, to look down at her in thinly concealed fury. His anger hadn't dissipated or dimmed.

“If you ever do that again, I don't care if you are my wife, I'll fire you on the spot. Is that clear?” She nodded silently, feeling suddenly as though she had not done a good thing, but betrayed him. He had never in their nine years together been as angry at her, and she was wondering if he would ever forgive her for it, particularly if the network got sued.

“I thought it was an important thing to do.”

“I don't give a damn what you think. I don't pay you to think. I pay you to look good and read the news off a TelePrompTer. That's all I want from you.” And with that, he walked into his bathroom, and slammed the door behind him, as she burst into tears in their bedroom. It had been a stressful night for both of them. But in her heart of hearts, she still believed she'd done the right thing, whatever it cost her. And for the moment at least, it looked like it was going to cost her dearly.

When Jack came out of the bathroom, he got into bed without saying a word to her. He turned off the light, turned his back to her, and there was not a sound between them until she heard him snoring. But for the first time in years, she felt a ripple of terror inside her. His anger, however controlled, brought back old memories and was terrifying to her. And that night, for the first time in a long time, she had nightmares.

Jack said not a word to her over breakfast the next morning, and he left for work alone with his driver.

“How am I supposed to get to work?” she asked, looking dumbstruck, as he left her on the sidewalk.

He looked her right in the eye, slammed the door of the car, and spoke to her as he would have a stranger. “Take a cab.”





Chapter 4




JANET MCCUTCHINS'S FUNERAL WAS on Friday morning, and Jack sent Maddy a message via his secretary that he was planning to go with her. They left the office in his car, he in a dark suit and striped black tie, she in a black linen Chanel suit and dark glasses, as they were driven to St. John's Church, across Lafayette Park from the White House. The service was long and agonizing, it was a high mass, with the choir singing the Ave Maria, and the front pew was full of Janet's nieces, and nephews and children. Even the Senator cried, and every important politician in the city seemed to be there. Maddy found herself staring at the Senator in disbelief, watching him cry, and her heart went out to the children. And without thinking, at the end of the service, she slipped her hand into Jack's arm. He glanced at her, and then pulled away from her just as quickly. He was still furious with her, and had barely spoken to her since Tuesday night.

They joined the others on the steps as the casket was carried to the hearse, and the family got into limousines to go to the cemetery. The Hunters knew there was a luncheon at the McCutchinses' afterward, but neither of them wanted to go, as they weren't that close to them. And they rode back to the office in stony silence, side by side.

“How long is this going to go on, Jack?” she asked finally in the car, unable to stand it any longer.

“As long as I feel this way about you,” he said bluntly. “You let me down, Maddy. No, to be accurate, you screwed me.”

“It was bigger than that, Jack. A woman who had been abused killed herself, and was going to go down in history as a nutcase. It was about giving her, and her kids, a fair shake. And shining the spotlight on her abuser, even for a minute.”

“And fucking me over in the process. Nothing you did changed the fact that she'll go down in history as a nutcase. The facts are there. She was in a mental hospital and had electric shock treatments for six months. How normal do you think she was, Mad? And was she worth making me an easy target for a lawsuit?”

“I'm sorry, Jack. I had to do it.” She still believed she'd been right.

“You're as crazy as she was,” he said with a look of disgust, glancing out the window. It was a nasty thing to say, and his tone stung, just as it had for the past three days.

“Can we call a truce for the weekend?” It was going to be grim in Virginia if he was going to continue to do this, and she was thinking of not going with him.

“I don't think so,” he said coldly. “Besides, I have things to do here. I have some meetings at the Pentagon. You can do whatever you want. I won't have time to spend with you.”

“This is ridiculous, Jack. That was business. This is our life.”

“The two stand pretty well intertwined in our case. You should have thought of that, before you shot off your mouth.”

“Fine. Punish me then. But this is getting childish.”

“If McCutchins sues me, believe me, the amount won't be ‘childish.’”

“I'm not so sure he's going to do that, particularly with the First Lady applauding the broadcast. Besides, he can't defend himself. If there is an investigation, the coroner's report must show her bruises.”

“He may not be as impressed with the First Lady as you are.”

“Why don't you just give it a rest for a while, Jack? I can't unring the bell, and I wouldn't anyway. So why don't we just try to put it behind us?”

But as she said it, he turned to her with narrowed eyes, and the look in them was icy. “Maybe you'd like to refresh your memory a little bit, Joan of Arc, and recall that before you took up the crusades for the underdog, you were no one and nothing when I found you. You were nothing, Mad. Zero. You were a hick from nowhere going straight to a lifetime of beer cans and abuse in a trailer park. Whatever the hell it is you think you are now, keep in mind that I made you. And you owe me. I'm sick of this idealistic bullshit and a lot of whining and moaning about a fat, unattractive piece of shit like Janet McCutchins. She wasn't worth putting my ass on the line for, or yours, or the network's.”

She looked at her husband suddenly as though he were a stranger, and maybe he was, and she had just never noticed. “You're making me sick,” she said, leaning forward and tapping the driver on the shoulder. “Stop the car. I'm getting out here.”

Jack looked instantly startled. “I thought you were going back to the office.”

“I am, I think I'd rather walk than sit here and listen to you talk to me like that. I get the message, Jack. You made me, and I owe you. How much? My life? My principles? My dignity? What's the price for saving someone from being poor white trash for the rest of her life? Let me know, when you figure it out. I want to be sure not to shortchange you.” And with that, she got out of the car, and strode quickly away toward their office. Jack said nothing, and silently rolled up the window. And when he got back to his own office, he didn't call her. She was only five floors away, eating a sandwich with Greg.

“How was the funeral?” he asked with a look of concern for her. He thought she looked strained and exhausted.

“Depressing. That asshole cried through the whole service.”

“The Senator?” She nodded, with her mouth full. “Maybe he feels guilty.”

“He should. He might as well have killed her. Jack is still convinced that she was psychotic.” And he was making her feel that way herself with the way he was behaving.

“Is Jack still pissed?” Greg asked cautiously, handing her his pickle, he knew she loved them.

“That doesn't begin to describe it. He's convinced I did it to spite him.” “He'll get over it,” Greg said, sprawling back in his chair and looking at her. She was so damn smart and decent and incredible looking. Greg loved the fact that she was always willing to fight for what she believed in, but she seemed worried and unhappy. She hated it when Jack was angry at her, and he had never, in his seven years of marriage to her, been this angry before.