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 never 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."