"You leaving all this to me and Gabriel?"

"That's right. My property. I can give it to whoever I damn well want to, 'scuse my French."

"But you got family. You got Mr. Daryl, and Miss Tippi. And your other daughter too."

"I trust you to take care of Daryl, if he's still around. And Tippi. And Suzie, well, I doubt she'd want anything from me seeing as how she hasn't even called me in over four years. And you and Gabriel are my family too. So I want to provide for you. This is my way of doing that."

"You sure 'bout this?"

"Sure I'm sure."

She reached across the table and took his hand. "You a good man, Mr. Sam. You probably outlive all of us. But I thank you for all you done for me and Gabriel. And I take care of everybody, Mr. Sam. Everybody real good. Just like you would."

"Ruth Ann, you can do anything with the property you want. Including selling it if you need the money."

She looked appalled by the suggestion. "I ain't never gonna sell this place, Mr. Sam. This here's our home."

There was a noise at the doorway and they looked over to see Gabriel standing there.

"Hey, Gabriel," said Quarry. "Me and your ma just talking about some things."

"What things, Mr. Sam?" Gabriel looked at his mother and noted the tears sliding down her thin, flat cheeks. "Is everything okay?" he said slowly.

"Come on over here, you," his mother said, beckoning to him. He ran to her and she hugged him. Quarry patted Gabriel on the head, folded up his will, put it back in his pocket, and left the room.

He had another letter to write.

And he had to go see Tippi.

And then he was going to the mine.

It was getting close to the end now.

CHAPTER 46

FOR THE SECOND TIME in as many days, Sean and Michelle listened to a preacher talk about the dearly departed. It was a rainy, blustery afternoon and black umbrellas were braced against the elements as Pam Dutton was laid to rest in a cemetery five miles from where she'd died. The children were in the front row under the canopy with their father. Tuck's head was bandaged and the man looked like he had downed a few cocktails and a handful of pills. His sister, the First Lady, sat next to him, her arm protectively around his shoulders. Colleen Dutton was perched in Jane's lap. John was snuggled against his father. Next to Jane was her husband, who was dressed in black and looking solemnly presidential.

A wall of "A-team" Secret Service surrounded the burial site. The surrounding streets had been cleared and shut down, with every manhole cover in the roads the motorcade had taken welded shut. The cemetery was closed to everyone other than the bereaved family and invited friends. A regiment of journalists and TV crews waited just outside the gates hoping to catch a glimpse of the president and grieving First Lady when they left the graveyard.

Michelle nudged Sean and inclined her head to the left. Agent Waters of the FBI was in attendance. And his gaze was dead on Sean and Michelle.

"He doesn't look too happy," she said.

"I bet he's never been happy in his entire life."

They'd caught an early morning flight back from Tennessee. On the plane back they'd talked about what had happened the night before.

When they'd gotten back to Frank Maxwell's house, the man hadn't returned. Michelle had tried calling him on his cell phone but there was no answer. They were just about to call in the cops when he had come through the garage door.

"Dad?"

He had pushed right past her, gone to his bedroom, and closed the door. When Michelle had tried the door, it was locked.

"Dad?" she'd called through the door. "Dad!" She started beating on it, until a hand grabbed her. It was Sean.

"Just let him be for now."

"But-"

"There's something going on here that we don't understand, so let's not push it for now."

Sean had slept on the couch and Michelle in one of the spare bedrooms. Her brothers were staying at Bobby's house nearby.

When they woke the next morning to catch their flight, Frank Maxwell was already dressed and gone. This time Michelle didn't even try to call his cell.

"He won't answer it," she said over a cup of coffee at the airport.

"What do you think he was doing at the farmhouse?"

"Maybe the same reason I was there."

"Meaning what exactly?"

"Meaning I don't know exactly," she said miserably.

"Do you want to stay here? I can pop up for the funeral."

"No, I don't think there's anything I can do down here right now. And going to another funeral won't be nearly as depressing as staying here and watching my family finish disintegrating."

The service for Pam Dutton was over now and people were filtering away, though Sean did notice that many folks did their best to finagle a handshake with the president. And to his credit he accommodated them as best he could.

"Can't chance ticking off a potential voter," Michelle said sarcastically.

Jane walked out with her brother and the kids. Several agents flanked them, but the bulk stayed with the president. As he watched this scene, Sean well knew that that one life trumped all others. The First Lady was a vitally important protectee in the world of the Service, but her ranking was so far below the president's that if a choice had to be made as to whom to save, it would not be a difficult decision.

Michelle apparently read his thoughts because she said, "Did you ever wonder what'd you do?"

He turned to her. "What'd I do about what?"

"If you had to choose between the First Couple? Which one to save?"

"Michelle, you know if there's one rule the Service bangs into your brain it's that one. The president's the one life you can not let end."

"But let's say he's committing a crime. Or what if the guy goes nuts and is attacking the First Lady. He's getting ready to kill her. What would you do? Take him out or let her die?"

"Why are we having this conversation? Isn't the fact that we're at a funeral depressing enough?"

"Just wondering."

"Good, you wonder. I'll stay out of it."

"It's just a hypothetical."

"I have enough trouble dealing with reality."

"Are we going to see the First Lady?"

"After my last phone call with her, I'm not sure. I'm not even sure if we're on the same side as her anymore."

"What do you mean by that?"

Sean let out a long sigh. "I'm just talking and not making much sense." He looked over at the man coming toward them. "This day just keeps getting better and better."

Michelle glanced over in time to see Agent Waters striding toward them.

"I thought I asked you two not to leave town," he said sharply.

"No, I think you said you wanted us to be available for further questioning," Michelle said back. "Well, here we are. All available and everything."

"Where have you been?" he demanded.

"Tennessee."

"What's in Tennessee?" he said angrily. "Some lead you're not sharing?"

"No. We were at another funeral."

"Whose?"

"My mother's."

Waters eyed her closely, perhaps trying to gauge if Michelle was pulling his chain or not. He apparently came away satisfied because he said, "I'm sorry. Was it unexpected?"

"Murder usually is," Michelle said before walking on toward the row of parked cars.

Waters shot a glance at Sean. "Is she on the level?"

"Afraid so."

"Damn."

"Did you need us for anything?"

"No. I mean not right now."

"Good. See you around."

He caught up to Michelle and they were about to climb in her SUV when they heard someone behind them. And the person was out of breath.

Tuck Dutton looked like he'd just run a mile. His face was flushed and his chest was heaving.

"Tuck, what the hell is it?" Sean asked, grabbing hold of his arm. "Come on, man, you just got out of the hospital. You shouldn't be running sprints."