First Family kam-4 Page 10

  "FBI's already on it," said Betack.

  Michelle said, "But if I'm the kidnapper I'll know that and I'll drive a long way from where I'm holding Willa to make the drop."

  Sean added, "Dalton is in northern Georgia. It's in relatively easy driving distance from Tennessee, Alabama, and North and South Carolina."

  "Which makes it hard but not impossible," noted Betack. "And it's one of the few leads we have."

  Sean looked over to see Jane staring at a photo she held in her hands. She turned it around for them to see. It was a picture of Willa on a horse.

  "She'd just turned six. She wanted a pony, of course. I guess all little kids do. Dan was still in the Senate back then. We took her to a little farm out near Purcellville in Virginia. She got right up on that animal and we almost couldn't get her off. Most kids would've been scared to death."

  She slowly put the photo back down.

  "A brave girl," Sean said quietly.

  Jane said pointedly, "She is brave and capable, but she's still a little girl."

  "Does the FBI have any thoughts on motive?" asked Michelle.

  "Not as far as I know."

  She looked at Betack, who merely shook his head.

  "We talked to Tuck and went by his office."

  "Did you find anything useful?"

  Sean squirmed slightly in his chair before glancing uneasily at Betack. "This might get personal."

  Betack looked at the First Lady. "I can leave, Mrs. Cox."

  She thought for a moment. "Fine. Thank you, Agent Betack. The president and I want to be made aware of any developments without delay."

  After Betack left she said, "What do you mean by personal, Sean?"

  "Did Pam ever talk to you about any problems in the marriage?"

  "Why do you ask that?" Jane said sharply.

  "Just covering all the bases," said Sean. "So was there anything?"

  Jane sat back and made a steeple with her hands while she slowly nodded. "It was at the party at Camp David. We were talking about Tuck not being there. That he was away on business. It was really nothing. But-"

  "But what?"

  "It just seemed that she wanted to say something, but then didn't. She made a casual comment about Tuck being Tuck. And that he'd be back the next day." She looked between the pair. "What is it?"

  Sean and Michelle had both snapped forward in their chairs. "Tuck was supposed to come back the day after the kidnapping happened?" Sean asked.

  Jane looked unsure. "That's right. I believe that's what she said. But he was there the night it happened." Jane leaned forward too. "What is going on?"

  Sean glanced at Michelle. "Tuck might have been having an affair."

  Jane stood. "What?"

  "You had no idea?"

  "Of course not, because it's not true. My brother would never do that. What proof do you have?"

  "Enough to make us want to investigate it further."

  Jane sat back down. "This is… incredible." She glanced up. "If you think he had an affair, you're not implying that…"

  "Jane, I can't answer that question. At least not right now. We've only been on this thing for a short time. We're doing the best we can."

  "And our priority has to be getting Willa back safe," added Michelle.

  "Of course that's our goal. It's the only reason I asked you to help." Jane put a shaky hand up to her forehead.

  Sean could easily read her mind. "When you start an investigation you really can never be sure where it's going to lead. Sometimes the truth does hurt, Jane. Are you prepared for that?"

  The First Lady placed a cool, rigid gaze on him.

  "The truth is, at this point in my life nothing surprises me anymore. You just find Willa. And let the chips fall."

  All three turned when the door swung open. Sean and Michelle reflexively leapt to their feet as President Dan Cox strode into the room, winged by a pair of veteran Secret Service agents. He smiled and put out his hand.

  Cox was about Michelle's height, several inches shorter than Sean, but his shoulders were burly and his face, at age fifty, retained more vestiges of youth than it did the toll of middle age. That was somewhat remarkable considering his years under the unrelenting gaze of the world.

  Sean and Michelle took turns shaking the man's hand.

  Jane said, "I'm surprised to see you."

  Cox said, "I canceled the rest of my appearances for today. My people weren't thrilled, but the president does get a few perks. And when you're up by twenty-five points in the polls and your opponent agrees with you more than he disagrees with you, a free day every once in a while is allowable. And even if I were behind in the race, Willa's safety comes first."

  Jane gave him a grateful smile. "I know you've always seen it that way."

  Cox walked over and gave his wife a peck on the cheek and rubbed her shoulder gently before turning to his two Secret Service agents; his gaze flicked almost imperceptibly to the door. Within moments the men were gone.

  Sean, who had watched this little exchange, thought, How many times has a president done that very same eye flick with me?

  Cox said, "Jane's told me what you two are doing. I welcome your experience and input. We have to do everything we can to get Willa back safely."

  "Absolutely, Mr. President," Sean said automatically.

  Cox perched on the edge of his wife's desk and motioned for the pair to retake their seats. "I was briefed on the flight about the package. I pray that will lead to something positive." He paused. "Politics should not become involved in this and I'll do everything possible not to allow that to happen. However, the opposition controls the Congress so I clearly don't have absolute power there." He gazed at his wife and smiled tenderly. "I don't even have it in my own house, which is a good thing since my better half is far smarter than I'll ever be." His casual smile melted. "But officially the FBI leads this investigation. Some of my advisors don't think I can play favorites here, but I've told FBI Director Munson that this case gets maximum priority. I'll deal with the political fallout later. My wife trusts you with this, so I trust you. However, while you will continue to be provided access to the investigation, remember that your role is that of a private consultant. The FBI runs the show."

  "We understand, Mr. President."

  "They've been very cooperative," Michelle added, without a trace of the sneer she was undoubtedly feeling coming on.

  "Good. Have you made any progress?"

  Sean shot a quick glance at Jane Cox. Her features were imperturbable yet somehow Sean was able to read them still. "It's early yet, sir, but we're working as hard and as fast as we can. It seems like they got a bit of a break with this package. Hopefully, as you said, that will lead to something else. Those things often do. The bad guys communicate and they let something slip."

  "All right." Cox stood and so did Sean and Michelle.

  "I'll talk to you later, honey," said the president.

  Moments later he was gone, with no doubt his silent guards once more bracketing him.

  Outside the White House the few square feet around the president demanded maximum protection, and some agents, using a football analogy, referred to it as the "red zone," meaning that this was where the defense could never allow a score. That meant layers of perimeter walls rolling outward like the multiple skins of an onion. To get to the next depth, the intruder had to wipe out the layer above. The red zone was the last wall before you ran smack into the leader of the free world's flesh and bone. It consisted of top agents who'd been excruciatingly vetted to get to this level, positioned hip and flank in the form of a diamond. A hard diamond. And every single one of those agents would automatically fight to the death and take a lethal round for the man, without question. That was the one layer that could never be breached, because it was the last one.

  Yet even in the White House, the Service was always within a foot of the man save for one place: the First Family's private quarters. In the field of presidential protection, you could ne
ver assume that you always knew where your enemies were, or whether your friends were really friends.

  A few minutes later, Sean and Michelle were in the tunnel heading back to the Treasury, a Marine in full dress uniform leading the way.

  "I've always wanted to meet the president," Michelle said to Sean.

  "He's an impressive guy. But…"

  Michelle's voice sank to a whisper. "But you'll always see him in that car in the alley with that woman?"

  He grimaced but didn't answer her.

  "Why didn't you ask Jane about the two C-sections and three kids?"

  "Because my gut told me not to. And right now my gut is scaring me to death."

  CHAPTER 20

  SEAN YAWNED, sat back, finished off his coffee, and rose to get some more while Michelle stared intently at the computer screen. They were at her apartment near Fairfax Corner. While outside cars and patrons streamed through the popular upscale shopping area, the two of them had been sequestered in Michelle's cluttered home office staring at digital liquid on her Mac. Sean returned and handed her a fresh cup of coffee. It had taken a long time to sift through Tuck Dutton's computer files. But some interesting information had been gained by the effort.

  The man had been scheduled to come home the morning following the kidnapping attempt. Cassandra Mallory's cell phone had been listed in his contacts. Sean had called it. A woman had answered and then he'd hung up. Her address was also in Tuck's records.

  "We might have to pay the woman a visit," Michelle said.

  "If she's still around."

  "You think she was in on it?"

  "Hard to say. I have no doubt they had something going on. You don't use a coworker's name as your computer password. But whether she knew about this, or whether Tuck was actually involved…" He shrugged.

  She gave him a confused look. "I didn't think Tuck's involvement was an open question. If he wasn't involved it was a helluva coincidence, don't you think?"

  "But we did a quick look at his financial account. There's no movement of cash out that isn't accounted for. So, what, they did this for free?"

  "Maybe he has another account somewhere. The guy's in government contracting. You telling me folks like that don't have slush funds all over the place?"

  "But if he decided to be at the house it apparently was a spur-of-the-moment thing. I checked with the airline. The reservation change was made at the last possible second."

  "Like we discussed before, he might have thought about it and decided it was better cover to be there than not."

  Sean looked out the window. "I feel like we're spinning our wheels. Maybe the trace under Pam's fingernails will get a hit on a database somewhere."

  Michelle said excitedly, "Wait a minute, what if the ransom is the payment? That way Tuck doesn't have to cough up a dime and there's no money trail for the FBI to follow."

  "So these guys do all this on the come? You know the kidnapping business sucks. The payoff is always problematic. Even with electronic transfers, there's always some trail to follow. You get your money and then the FBI knocks down your door." Sean drew a breath. "And we still have no idea why they took blood from Pam Dutton."

  "So how do we play this with Tuck?"

  "Question him some more, but don't tip our hand."

  "His buddy Hilal might do that for us. Meaning tip off Tuck."

  "Don't think so. His primary concern is not to let this contract blow up. And he doesn't want to fall in this mess with Tuck if he is guilty. I think he'll keep his distance."

  "So if Pam wasn't Willa's birth mother who could it be?"

  "It might not matter."

  "But you said earlier that you thought Willa was the adopted one. So I thought you meant it was tied into this somehow."

  "Willa is twelve. If it is tied to her it's taken somebody a long time to come around to it."

  "Do you remember them ever talking about Willa being adopted?"

  "Never. I just assumed all three kids were theirs."

  "Okay, how about Jane Cox?"

  "What about her?"

  "She knows about our suspicions. What if she tips off her brother?"

  Before Sean could answer, Michelle's phone rang.

  "Hello?"

  "Oh, hey, Bill. I… what?" Michelle paled. "Oh my God. When? How?"

  Michelle didn't say anything for about a minute, but her breath kept coming in accelerating bursts as she listened. "Okay, okay. I'll catch the next flight out." She clicked off.

  "Michelle, what is it?"

  "My mom's dead."

  CHAPTER 21

  THE STURDY WHEELS of the Cessna bumped against the compacted dirt with the grass topper, slowed, and came to a stop. Sam Quarry taxied down the makeshift runway, worked the foot pedals, and expertly spun the plane around. He climbed out and slung a knapsack over his shoulder. After blocking the plane's wheels, he unlocked the outer door of the old mine. He walked down the tunnel, his path illuminated by his flashlight and the dull glow of the overhead lights.

  A few minutes later he met up with Carlos and Daryl.

  "Did you take care of Kurt's body?" he asked solemnly.

  Daryl looked down but Carlos said, "We buried it on down the south shaft. Said a prayer over him and everything. Real respectable."

  "Good." Quarry glanced over at his son. "You learn anything from this, boy?"

  Daryl nodded stiffly. "Don't never lose control." His tone didn't imply that he had actually learned anything. This was apparently not lost on Quarry.

  He clapped his son on the back and then his strong fingers dug into the younger man's skin. "Every time you think about losing your temper, you think about the price Kurt paid. You think about that real good. 'Cause let me tell you, I could've easily let Kurt be the one walking away. And him and Carlos could've been saying the Lord's Prayer over your hole in the dirt. You hear me?"

  "I hear you, Daddy. I hear you."

  "Little piece of me died with him. Maybe more than a little. I've damned myself to hell for all eternity by doing that. You think about that too."

  "Thought you didn't believe in God," Daryl said quietly while Carlos looked on, his features inscrutable except for the fact he was slowly rubbing the St. Christopher's medal he wore around his neck.

  "I might not believe in God, but I sure as hell believe in the devil."

  "Okay, Daddy."

  "I don't make many rules, but the ones I do make I expect to be followed. Only way any of this shit works. Okay?"

  "Yes sir," said Carlos, who'd stopped stroking the medallion and slipped it back under his shirt.

  Quarry left the men and continued on. A minute later he was sitting across from Willa, who was dressed in corduroy pants and a wool shirt Quarry had provided.

  "Got everything you need?" Quarry asked.

  "I'd like some books," said Willa. "There's nothing else to do so I want to read."

  Quarry smiled and opened his knapsack. "Great minds, you know." He lifted five books out and passed them over to her. She studied them carefully.

  "You like Jane Austen?" he asked.

  She nodded. "She's not like my absolute favorite, but I've only read Pride and Prejudice."

  "That was my daughter's favorite book."

  "Was?"

  Quarry stiffened slightly. "She doesn't read anymore."

  "Is she dead?" Willa asked with the bluntness of youth.

  "Some might call it that." He pointed to the other books. "I know you're real smart. So I didn't bother with crap you're probably way past. But you let me know what you like or not. I got plenty."

  Willa slid the books aside and studied him carefully. "Can I have some paper and a pen? I like to write. And it would take my mind off things."

  "Okay, that's not a problem."

  "Did you talk to my parents? You said you would."

  "I sent out a message, yep. Told 'em you were okay."

  "Are you going to kill me?"

  Quarry flinched back like she'd sucker-punc
hed him, and maybe she had. He found his voice. "Where the hell did that come from?"

  "Sometimes kidnappers don't give the person back. They kill them." Her wide eyes remained steadfastly on his. She was obviously not interested in retreating off this subject.

  Quarry rubbed his jaw with a callused, weathered hand. Then he glanced down at it, as though he was seeing it for the first time. It was the same hand that had ended Kurt's life, so maybe the girl had something. I am a killer, after all.

  "I appreciate that. I can see where you're coming from, sure. But if I were planning on killing you, I could just lie and say I wasn't going to. So what does it matter?"

  She was ready for him in this little logics duel. "But if you tell me you are planning on killing me it's probably the truth, because why would you lie about that?"

  "Damn, I bet sometimes people say you're too smart for your own good, don't they?"

  Her bottom lip trembled just a bit as she transformed from Einstein to the frightened preadolescent she was. "I want to go home. I want to see my mom and dad. And my brother and sister. I didn't do anything wrong." Tears spilled from her eyes. "I didn't do anything wrong, and so I don't understand why you're doing this. I just don't!"

  Quarry looked down, unable to confront the wide, wet eyes and the terror they held. "This isn't about you, Willa. Not really. It's just… it's just that this is the only way it'll work. I thought it through a lot of different ways and this is the only one that made sense. It's the only chance I had. The only cards I had to play."

  "Who are you mad at? Who are you trying to get back at?"

  He rose. "You need any more books, you just let me know."

  He fled the room, leaving Willa to cry alone. He had never felt more ashamed.

  A few minutes later Quarry was eying Diane Wohl as she sat on her haunches in the far corner of her "cell" from him. He should have felt sympathy for her too, but he didn't. Willa was a child. She hadn't had a chance to make choices. And mistakes. This woman here had done both.

  "Can I ask you a question?" Wohl said in a shaky voice.