First Family kam-4

by David Baldacci

The man turned and looked at her. He would have probably smiled, like he had all the other nights. Except she was pointing his own gun at him, the one she'd pulled from the holster he'd carelessly tossed on the chair. You didn't smile when a gun was pointed at you. Even by a six-year-old child.

  He made a move toward her.

  Just as she had that night, Michelle now fired a single shot. It passed through the air and slammed into the wall opposite.

  A big hand clamped down on her pistol, took it from her. She let it go. It was so heavy, she couldn't hold it anymore. She looked into the room. Saw her mother screaming. Screaming at what Michelle had done. At the dead man on the floor.

  A hand was on her shoulder. Michelle turned to look.

  "Dad?" she said in an odd voice.

  "It's all right, baby," her father said. "I'm here."

  Michelle pointed into the room. "I did that."

  "I know. Protecting your mom, that's all."

  She gripped his shoulder. "We have to take him away, but don't leave me in the car, Dad. Not this time. I can see his face. You have to remember to cover up his face."

  "Michelle!"

  "You have to cover his face. If I see his face-" Her breaths were coming in short swells. She was barely able to draw one breath before she needed another.

  Her father put the gun down and squeezed her tight, until her breathing slowed. Until Michelle looked into that room and saw what was really there.

  Nothing.

  "I shot him, Dad. I killed a man."

  He drew back a bit, studied her. She looked back at him, her eyes clear, focused. "You did nothing wrong. You were just a kid. Just a scared little child. Protecting your mother."

  "But she-he came before. He was with her, Dad."

  "If you want to blame anyone, you blame me. It was my fault. Only my fault." Tears were staining his cheeks and Michelle felt her own tears start to fall.

  "I'll never do that. I'll never blame you for that."

  He gripped her hand and steered her down the stairs.

  "We need to leave here, Michelle. We need to leave here and not come back. This is the past, and we can't relive it anymore. We have to keep going, Michelle, it's the only way life works. Otherwise, it'll just destroy us both."

  Outside, he held the SUV door open for her and she climbed in. Before he closed it, he said, "Are you sure you're okay?"

  She drew a deep breath and then nodded. "I don't know exactly what happened in there."

  "I think you know all you ever need to know. Now it's time to forget."

  She glanced over his shoulder. "You cut down the rose hedge, didn't you?"

  He followed her gaze and then looked back at Michelle. "Your mother loved those roses. I never should have taken those from her."

  "You probably had good reason."

  "Fathers aren't perfect, Michelle. And I never had a good enough reason to do a lot of things."

  She stared up at the old house. "I'm never coming back here."

  "No reason for you to."

  Her eyes drifted back down to him. "We need to do things differently, Dad. I need to do things differently."

  He squeezed her hand and closed the SUV door.

  As he walked back to his car, Michelle stole one more glance up at the house, her gaze counting the windows until it got to that room.

  "I'm sorry, Mom. I'm so sorry that you're gone. I never wanted to have any regrets, and now it's all I seem to have." The tears poured out so hard, she just rested her forehead on the steering wheel and sobbed, her chest rising and striking the wheel with the regularity of a clapper against a bell.

  She looked up ahead in time to see her father wipe his face free of his own tears and climb in his car.

  Right before she fired up the SUV, Michelle said, "Goodbye, Mom. I… don't care what you did. I'll always love you."

  CHAPTER 68

  AS HE WAS GOING through the binders, Sean's cell phone rang. It was Aaron Betack.

  "You didn't hear any of this from me," the Secret Service agent said.

  "You found the letter?"

  "It was a good call on your part, Sean. Yeah, it was in her desk. Found it a while back, actually. Sorry it took me so long to tell you. Anybody found out I did this, my career is over. I'll probably go to jail."

  "Nobody will find out from me, I can guarantee you that."

  "I haven't even told the FBI. Don't really see how I could without explaining how I got it."

  "I can see that. Was it typewritten like the first one?"

  "Yep."

  "What did it say?"

  "Not all that much. The writer was pretty economical, but there was enough in those words."

  "Like what?"

  "Some things we already know. That she had to keep checking the post office box. She's been going there every day. Waters has run a trace on the box. Dead end. The plan is when the letter does come that the FBI will take it from her."

  "Forcibly take it from the First Lady?"

  "I know. I sort of envision a standoff between the FBI and the Service. Not pretty. But the truth is it'll get worked out behind the scenes. Wolfman isn't going to let the election get blown up over this, niece or not."

  "What else did the letter say?"

  "That was the most troubling part."

  "Troubling how?" Sean said warily.

  "I'm not sure this whole thing is related to the Duttons. I think it might have something to do with the First Lady."

  "You mean the kidnappers want something from the president?"

  "No. The letter said that the next communication she got would reveal all. And that if she let anyone else read it, that it would all be over for her and everyone she cared about. That there would be no way out then for her. Her only chance to survive would be to keep the letter away from everyone else."

  "It actually said that?"

  "Not word for word, but that's the clear intent. Sean, you obviously knew her way back when. I've only been around her during this term. What could the person be referring to? Something in Mrs. Cox's past?"

  Sean thought back to the first time he'd met Jane Cox, while awkwardly carrying her newly minted U.S. senator and drunken husband into their modest house. Yet nothing had come of that.

  "Sean?"

  "Yeah, I was just thinking. I'm coming up with zip, Aaron."

  He heard the other man sigh. "If I just risked my career for nothing."

  "I don't think you did. What that letter said changes things, Aaron. I just don't know how."

  "Well, if this does involve the First Lady and the shit hits the fan, right in the middle of a campaign, I don't want to be within a thousand miles of that fallout."

  "We might not have a choice."

  "Anything on your end?"

  "Just trying to follow up some leads along with Waters."

  "How's Maxwell? Heard her mother died."

  "She's doing okay. Best as can be expected."

  "For what it's worth I thought you both got raw deals at the Service."

  "Thanks."

  Aaron clicked off and Sean went back to his binders after spending a few minutes fruitlessly racking his brain about anything in Jane Cox's past that could explain the current situation.

  A few minutes later the door opened and Michelle walked in.

  "Did you find your dad?" he asked, rising from the table.

  "Yeah, he was where I'd thought he'd be."

  "At the farmhouse?"

  She gazed darkly at him.

  "I'm a detective," he said gamely. "It's what I do."

  "Sometimes I wish you didn't do it so well, particularly when it concerns me."

  He studied her. "Have you been crying?"

  "Tears are sometimes good. I've been finding that out lately."

  "Did you hash things out?"

  "Pretty much, yeah."

  "Did he come back with you?"

  "No, he went over to see Bobby."

  She looked at the piles of binders. "Sorry I wal
ked out on you. Any revelations?"

  "Not yet. I've hit it hard for the past four hours, but got zip. However, judging from the number of investigations, apparently desertions are becoming a real problem for the Army. I did hear from Betack." He filled her in on the conversation.

  Michelle made a pot of fresh coffee and poured out cups for her and Sean. They both sat down at the kitchen table. "That would explain why she's been so high-strung. And why she's been playing things so close to the vest."

  "You mean obstructing justice?"

  "That too."

  She reached out her hand. "Give me a binder and let's find that kid."

  Two hours later they were still there.

  "Six more to go," said Sean as he stretched out and then handed another binder to her.

  They read slowly, looking for any clue that might allow them to lift their butts from these chairs and plunge into action once more. Their intensity levels were as high as if they were taking a college final exam. There was no room for mistakes. If there was a clue buried in all this, they knew it was probably going to be a subtle one and they could not afford to miss it.

  "How about some dinner?" Sean finally said. "I'm buying. And we can keep reading."

  They drove to a local restaurant.

  "So you really think things are okay with your dad?"

  She nodded. "I think so. I mean, we both have to work at it. I haven't been the most loving, attentive daughter in the world."

  "Or sister," he pointed out.

  "Thanks for reminding me."

  As they ate she eyed him nervously. "Sean, about what happened back at my father's house."

  "What about it?"

  "It won't happen again."

  "But if it did happen again, I'd be there for you, okay? There are few guarantees in life, but there's one of them."

  "I'd do the same for you. I hope you know that."

  "That's why we're partners, right? So any little hiccups that come along, we'll deal with them. Okay? Together."

  "Okay."

  He slid a binder across to her. "Now let's get back to work."

  Before she opened the binder she leaned across and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  "And that was for what?" he asked.

  "For dealing with the hiccups so damn well. And for not taking advantage of a lady when you could have."

  CHAPTER 69

  CAN I SEE the daylight?"

  Quarry had flown his plane up to the mines and was now watching Willa as they sat in her room.

  "Why do you want to see the daylight?"

  "Because I haven't seen it in a while, that's why. I miss it. I'm a sun person."

  "You can't get away. There's no one to yell to for help."

  "So there's no reason not to let me see it, then," she answered reasonably.

  "What'd you and the lady talk about the other day?"

  "Just things. I like her."

  "You've never seen her before, have you?"

  "Why would I have?" Willa asked, her large eyes squarely on Quarry.

  "I guess seeing the daylight will be okay. Come on."

  "Now?"

  "Why not now?"

  She followed him out. As they walked down the long passage she said, "Can Diane come too?"

  "I guess so."

  They retrieved Diane and the two ladies followed the tall Quarry toward the exit. Willa's eyes darted left and right, taking in all details, while Diane simply trudged along, her gaze only on Quarry's back. Behind them Daryl walked along, his face still bruised from his fight with his father. His mood seemed to match his injuries.

  One thing Willa picked up on was the cables running along some of the passageways that she did not remember seeing before. She didn't know what they were for, but intuitively concluded that their presence did not portend anything good.

  Quarry unlocked the door and they all stepped outside, blinking to adjust to the light.

  "Right nice day," said Quarry as he led the little group outside.

  And it was. The sky was a light blue and cloudless. The breeze from the west was warming but gentle. They sat on a large rock and gazed around. Willa looked interested, Diane Wohl indifferent, and Daryl just scowled off into the distance.

  "Where'd you learn to fly?" said Willa, pointing at the little Cessna parked on the grassy strip.

  "Vietnam. Nothing like a war to teach you how to fly real good. 'Cause you don't fly real good in a war, the problem ain't that you don't arrive on time, it's that you don't arrive at all."

  "I've been on a plane," said Willa. "We went to Europe last summer. Me and my family. And I've flown to California. Have you been on a plane?" she asked Diane.

  She said nervously, "Yeah, I travel a lot for work. But not planes like that one," she added, pointing at Quarry's ride. "Big ones."

  "What sort of work do you do?" asked Willa.

  "Look, Willa, I'm not exactly in the mood to chitchat, okay?" she said, eying Quarry warily.

  "Okay," the girl said, apparently unperturbed by this. "Can I walk down there?" she asked Quarry, pointing to the grassy strip.

  Quarry gave Daryl a look and then nodded at Diane.

  "Sure, let's go."

  They made their way down the short slope, Quarry holding on to Willa's hand. When they got to level ground he let go and they walked side by side.

  "Is that your mountain?" she asked, pointing behind her.

  "More of a hill than a mountain, but yeah, I guess it is mine. Or at least it was my granddaddy's and it got passed down to me."

  "You sure you told my family that I'm okay?"

  "Sure I'm sure, why?"

  "Diane said she didn't think you had contacted her mother to let her know she was all okay."

  "Is that right?" Quarry looked back up Diane, who sat on a rock looking as miserable as she no doubt felt.

  Willa said quickly, "Don't be angry at her, we were just talking." She hesitated. "Did you call her mother?"

  Quarry didn't answer. He just walked on. Willa had to hurry along to keep up with his strides.

  "How's your daughter?"

  Quarry stopped walking. "Why all the questions, girl?" he said darkly.

  "Why not?"

  "That's just another damn question. Answer mine."

  "I don't have anything else to do," Willa said simply. "I'm alone almost all the time. I've read all the books you brought. Diane doesn't say much when we're together. She just mostly cries and hugs me. I miss my family and this is the first time I've seen the sun since I tried to get away. I'm just basically trying to hold everything together. Would you rather I like screamed and ranted and bawled my eyes out? Because I can if you want."

  Quarry started walking again and so did she. "I got two daughters, actually. Lot older than you. All grown up."

  "I meant the daughter who doesn't read anymore. How is she doing?"

  "Not too well."

  "Can I ask some more questions? Or will you get mad?"

  Quarry stopped, snagged a rock off the ground, and tossed it about twenty feet. "Sure, it's okay."

  "Is she really sick?"

  "You know what a coma is?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, that's what she's in. Has been for over thirteen years. Longer than you've been alive."

  "I'm sorry."

  "I'm sorry too."

  "What happened to her?"

  "Somebody hurt her."

  "Why would they do that?"

  "Good question. Turns out some people don't care who they hurt."

  "Did they ever catch the person?"

  "No."

  "What's your daughter's name?"

  "Tippi."

  "Can you tell me your name?"

  "Sam."

  "I know you can't tell me your last name, Sam."

  "It's Quarry. Sam Quarry."

  Willa looked stricken.

  "What's the matter?" he asked.

  "You just told me your whole name," she said shakily.

  "So? Yo
u asked."

  "But if you told me your whole name, I could tell the police, but only if you plan on letting us go. So that means you're not going to let us go." She said this last part in a hushed voice.

  "Why don't you think about that again? There's another answer. You're smart, go for it."

  Willa stared up at him with a strange look on her face. Finally she said, "I guess it could be that you don't care if I tell the police your name."

  "Hell, I expect lots of folks will know my name soon enough."

  "Why's that?"

  "Just will. You know, speaking of names, there's a little black boy that lives with me called Gabriel. Almost as old as you. And he's about as smart as you too. He's a real good boy. Nice as they come."

  "Can I meet him?" she said quickly.

  "Not right now, no. See, he doesn't know anything about this and I intend to keep it that way. But what I want you to do is make sure that folks know him and his ma, Ruth Ann, didn't know nothing about this. Not a thing. Will you do that for me, Willa?"

  "Okay, sure."

  "Thanks. Because it's important."

  "Is he your son?" Willa was now looking back at Daryl.

  "What makes you say that?"

  "You have the same eyes."

  Quarry stared up at Daryl. "Yeah, he's my boy."

  "Did you two get in a fight? I heard stuff in the mine. And his face is all messed up. And your mouth too."

  Quarry touched his injured lip. "Sometimes people don't see eye to eye 'bout things. But I still love him. Just like I love Tippi."

  "You're a very unusual kidnapper, Mr. Quarry," she said bluntly.

  "Just call me Mr. Sam, same as Gabriel does."

  "Will it be too much longer? All this?"

  Quarry drew a deep breath and let the air rustle around inside his lungs before expelling it. "Not too much longer, no."

  "I think you're sorry you had to do this."

  "In one way yes, in another way no. But this is the only way I had."

  "Do we have to go back in yet, Mr. Sam?"

  "Not yet. Soon. But not yet."

  They sat on the ground and enjoyed the warmth of the sun.

  When they went back inside later, Quarry let Diane and Willa spend some time together in Diane's room.

  "Why are you being nice to that guy?" Diane said as soon as Quarry had locked the door and walked off.

  "There's something strange about him."