First Family

  She stared out the window of the chopper and saw the large house down below. She had been looking out the window all this time, in fact. This was the first home they had passed. The chances were very good, she felt, that whoever owned this house also owned the building she had almost died in. She pointed to it.

  “Who owns that property?”

  A young agent glanced past her, out the window. “I don’t know, ma’am.”

  That was the other thing that Jane had subtly orchestrated without seeming to. Larry Foster and Chuck Waters were flying with her husband. She had banished the veteran Aaron Betack to that chopper as well. She had done it simply with one penetrating look, and the man had fled to the safety of Marine One. She had done the same with Agent Waters. The security detail she had with her was relatively young. The two HRT members were just gun jockeys. She knew how to deal with them.

  “I want to go to that house.”

  “Ma’am?” said the confused agent.

  “Tell the pilot to put down in front of that house.”

  “But my orders—”

  “I’ve just been through a terrible ordeal. I was almost killed. I don’t feel very well and I want to get off this chopper before I throw up. Do I make myself clear? Because if I don’t I will take it up with the president when I get back to Washington and I am sure he will make it very clear to your superiors.”

  The HRT guys glanced at each other but didn’t say a word. They just stayed hidden behind their big guns. The other agents arrayed around the First Lady stared at the floor of the chopper, unwilling to make eye contact with the woman.

  The agent next to Jane said, “Walt, take us down to that house.”

  It landed a minute later and Jane stepped off the chopper and walked toward Atlee.

  The young agent sprinted ahead of her. “Ma’am, can I ask where you’re going?”

  “I’m going in that house, get some water, and lie down for a bit. Do you have a problem with that?”

  “No, ma’am, of course not, but let me just get the place checked out first.”

  She looked at him disdainfully. “Do you really think there are criminals or terrorists hiding inside that old house?”

  “We’ve got protocols to follow, ma’am. Just let me check things out.”

  Jane simply marched past him, forcing the team of agents and the HRT snipers to rush ahead of her and build an impromptu protection bubble around the woman.

  The door opened and Ruth Ann stood there with a kitchen apron on. When she saw who had just pressed her doorbell, her mouth gaped.

  “May I trouble you for some water and a place to lie down, Miss—” Jane said.

  When Ruth Ann found her voice she said, “I’m Ruth Ann. You, you come on in, ma’am. You just come right on in. I get your water.”

  After fetching a glass, Ruth Ann started to leave, but Jane beckoned her to remain in the small front room.

  Ruth Ann sat down across from her looking about as nervous as a person could look without actually passing out.

  Jane said to the detail leader, “Can you wait out in the hall? I believe that you’re making our friend here extremely nervous.”

  “Ma’am,” the agent began.

  “Thank you,” she said, turning away from him.

  “Do you live here alone?” Jane asked after the agent had retreated into the hall.

  “No, ma’am. I live here with my son. And Mr. Sam. It’s his house.”

  “Sam?”

  “Sam Quarry.”

  “I know that name. He has a daughter, doesn’t he? Tippi?”

  “Yes, ma’am. She ain’t here right now. I don’t know where she be.” Ruth Ann looked as though she wanted to run out of the room, but she just sat there picking at her apron with her stained, work-hardened fingers.

  “Has anyone been by to visit you lately?”

  Ruth Ann looked down. “I… uh.”

  Jane reached over and put a gentle hand on the woman’s bony shoulder. “I didn’t come here by accident, Ruth Ann. I know things, you see. I know about Sam. I wanted to come here and try to help him. Help you. And your son. Is he here?”

  Ruth Ann shook her head. “He done gone off with those folks.”

  “Folks? What folks?”

  “Man and a woman.”

  “You knew them?”

  “No, they just showed up here early this morning.”

  “Really, you just let your son go off with complete strangers?”

  “I… he wanted to. They with the government, like the police. And Gabriel say he wants to go help Mr. Sam out. And Mr. Sam, if he done something wrong, I don’t know nothing about it. Gabriel neither.” A tear plunked down on the stained apron.

  “I’m sure, Ruth Ann. I’m sure. So these people came here. Did they tell you their names?”

  “Man say his name… King, that’s right. King.”

  “Tall, good-looking man? The woman was also tall, brunette?”

  “You know’em?”

  “They’re actually friends of mine. What did they want here?”

  “They looking for your niece. I told’em we ain’t know nothing’bout that. And I swear to God, ma’am, we ain’t.”

  Jane said soothingly, “I believe you. Of course you didn’t.”

  “And then Gabriel he was all fired up wanting to show’em that room.”

  “Room?”

  “One down in the basement. Mr. Sam got stuff in that room. Stuff on the walls. Pictures and writing, whole bunch of stuff. It had your niece’s picture on it. Gabriel showed me. She a pretty girl.”

  “And King and his friend saw this room?”

  “Oh, yeah, they was in there a long time. They got real excited.”

  “Can you show me this room?”

  “Ma’am?”

  Jane stood. “I’d really like to see it.”

  They went downstairs, Jane ignoring the protests from her security detail. They reached the room. The door was unlocked. The detail chief insisted on at least making sure no one was lurking inside.

  “That will be all you do,” she said sternly. “Don’t even turn the lights on. And then come directly out.”

  It only took seconds to make sure the room was empty.

  Jane turned to Ruth Ann. “Do you mind if I go in alone?”

  “Go right ahead, ma’am. I ain’t want to go back in there.”

  Jane closed the door behind her, flicked on the light, and looked around.

  She started at one end of the room and kept going until she reached the other. With each photo, each line of writing, a name, a date, a description of an event, memories, awful memories came flooding back to her.

  “He raped me, Daddy,” she read off the wall, when she’d gone back to the beginning of the piece of history built on these walls. She slid a chair to the middle of the room, sat down and continued to stare at this story. At her story.

  She looked in the file cabinets, but they were mostly empty.

  She only teared up once, when she saw the photo of Willa looking down at her. She had not been entirely truthful with her husband about Willa. She had wanted Willa to stay in the family because that would always be a secret that she could hold over Dan Cox. Her husband was a good man for the most part, but unpredictable. She was sure there would come a time in their marriage, after they left the White House, when such leverage would be very useful to her. It had been an intoxicating notion to know that the president of the United States was actually less powerful than his wife. Yet over the years she had come to love and care about Willa. She wanted her back.

  She had to confess admiration for Sam Quarry’s skill and tenacity. It really was an amazing accomplishment. After what had happened today there would be an investigation, of course. That was a real problem, but not an insurmountable one.

  Her husband’s charmed streak would continue. Jane knew exactly what she had to do. And in accordance with her efficient nature, she set about methodically to do it. It was just another time where she
had to pick up the pieces. Just one more time.

  Her husband would not be remembered this way. She stared at the wall. He had changed. He didn’t deserve this.

  And neither do I.

  When you had clawed your way to the level the Coxes had, you lost all individuality. You were no longer him or her. You were them.

  Five minutes later she came out and shut the door behind her.

  She looked at the lead agent. “I want to go back to D.C. immediately.” She turned to Ruth Ann. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”

  “And everything will be fine. Don’t you worry.”

  They hurried up the steps and out of Atlee.

  The chopper lifted off seconds later. It set a heading to the northwest and the pilot hit the throttle. They were soon out of sight.

  Ruth Ann closed the front door and went back to work in the kitchen. A few minutes later she smelled something funny. She walked from room to room trying to figure out what it was. She finally ventured down the stairs, hastened across the passageway, and arrived at the door to the basement room. When she touched the doorknob, it felt warm. Puzzled, she pulled it open.

  It was at that moment that the fire set earlier by Jane Cox using paint thinner, rags, and a match hit the pressurized oxygen cylinders, igniting them. The explosion rocked the old plantation house to its bones. The flame ball that rocketed out the open door gushed over Ruth Ann, incinerating her. The woman didn’t even have time to scream.

  By the time the fire was noticed and help called in, it was far too late. By the time the volunteer fire department arrived, there was hardly anything left of Atlee.

  Later, Sean, Michelle, Willa, and Gabriel pulled down the long drive in the SUV. When they saw what was going on, Gabriel jumped out while the vehicle was still moving and sprinted the rest of the way.

  “Momma! Momma!”

  Michelle gunned the engine and they sped up. Gabriel was running so fast he reached the ruins of the house at the same time. As they were climbing out of the SUV, the little boy had already dodged past the firemen and was wading into what was left of the house.

  Sean raced after him. “Gabriel!”

  Michelle ran up to one of the firemen and flashed her ID. “Did you find anyone? A black lady?”

  The man looked at her solemnly. “We found… some remains.” He looked over at Gabriel, who was clawing through the rubble trying to find his mother.

  Michelle turned and ran toward them. She stopped as Gabriel sat down on the ground, sobbing and holding something. As Michelle edged forward she saw what it was. A burnt rag. As she drew closer, she saw it was more than that. It was the remains of an apron.

  As Sean and Michelle tried to soothe the little boy, Willa walked carefully through the piles of wet, smoky wreckage, sat down next to him in the dirt and filth, and put her arms around him.

  He glanced over at her. “It… it was my ma’s.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said in a quiet voice. “I’m so sorry, Gabriel.”

  He looked at her, his face twisted in anguish. But he nodded his thanks and started sobbing again. Willa wrapped her arms more tightly around him.

  Sean glanced at Michelle. “I never thought it would be his mother who was in danger,” he whispered to her.

  “We had no way of knowing. Do you think this is something Quarry did somehow? Erase all the evidence?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Sean and Michelle stood back and watched the two kids sitting there, one supporting the other. It was clear from their expressions that they were thinking the same thing.

  Willa didn’t know it, but she was going to be experiencing this exact same grief. And neither one of them had the heart or courage right now to tell her.

  Even before the last timber fell into the smoldering depths of the inferno and the old Quarry home ceased to be, Jane and Dan Cox were just landing at Andrews AFB.

  Jane had told her husband what she had done. He praised his wife for her quick thinking and gave her a kiss. Despite the likely loss of their niece, the First Couple rode back to the White House with their spirits higher than they had been in a while.

  They really had survived, one more time.

  CHAPTER 85

  THE COUNTRY REJOICED at the safe return of Willa Dutton. It was all made far more poignant and indeed bittersweet by the loss of the young girl’s mother. Willa was America’s courageous little lady now, yet they had not seen much of her, because her family was shielding the bereaved girl from much of the media scrutiny.

  An obviously relieved Dan and Jane Cox consistently mentioned it on the campaign trail, and asked both the public and the media to respect the privacy of the grieving girl.

  If Willa was the number one story, a close second was the attempted assassination of Dan Cox by persons as yet unknown, though the investigation was ongoing. While he only would speak briefly and modestly of the ordeal himself, his staff made sure that the public knew how brave he and the First Lady had been, risking their lives to try and get their niece back and foiling the plot of what most of the country thought was the work of terrorists trying to kill their president.

  He was so far ahead in the polls now that even the opposition openly acknowledged the impossibility of winning the upcoming election. Jane had never been more popular. She had appeared on the covers of a number of magazines and had made appearances on all the major news and talk shows. For those who knew her well, while she seemed the same physically, still radiant if thinner, there was something different about her. A certain light in the eyes that was no longer there.

  Sean King and Michelle Maxwell had also been brought into the national spotlight, however unwillingly. After the president and Agent Waters had mentioned what they had done to foil the assassination plot, they had been inundated with press inquiries, to such an extent that they both had moved and taken up residence at an undisclosed location.

  They had briefed Waters on what had happened at the mines. And about Diane Wohl being in there along with Daryl and Sam Quarry. Attempts were being made to excavate the mine collapse. Yet it was becoming rapidly clear that any evidence that might have been in there was going to stay in there.

  When Waters questioned them as to Quarry’s motivation to do all this, they had claimed ignorance.

  Sean’s arm and other injuries were healing and Michelle had gone from crutches to a boot on her foot. Gabriel had miraculously suffered no serious physical injuries. However, the emotional impact of losing his mother and his home had taken its toll.

  Sean and Michelle had discussed what to do about him.

  “We can’t just stick him in foster care,” she said.

  “I don’t want to do that either. I want to find him a great home with a great family.”

  “I don’t think anything will be great for him for a long time,” said Michelle. “No matter what sort of family he ends up with.”

  “Do you think we could take care of him for a while?” he finally suggested.

  “We? We live in separate places. We’re not married. And with our occupation, being gone half the time, they’d never let us have custody of him.”

  “We can try.”

  Michelle had thought about this and then squeezed his hand and smiled. “We can try. At least for a while.”

  And with help from the FBI and the White House, Sean and Michelle received emergency temporary custody of Gabriel Macon after it was quickly determined he had no living relatives. There would be future legal hoops for them to jump through, but for now Gabriel had a place to stay and people to look after him.

  Sean and Michelle had traveled down to Atlee once more a few days after Gabriel had become their ward. They hadn’t taken the boy with them because there was nothing left for him down there. Gabriel was staying with Michelle and Sean was at a townhouse provided by the Secret Service.

  The FBI was still on site, investigating what little remained of the plantation house, and al
so the site where the First Couple had almost died. And where Tippi Quarry had died.

  The FBI had privately marveled at the skill and ingenuity with which Sam Quarry had put his murderous plan together. Sean and Michelle had learned that a cavity in the ground near the building where the First