Under her black overcoat she wore a knee-length blue dress, along with sensible pumps and little jewelry. Her hair, though covered in a scarf, was in its trademark upsweep that many had compared, mostly favorably, to Jackie Kennedy. The woman had never been flash, Sean knew, just classy. Elegant. She never tried to be something she wasn't. Well, that wasn't exactly true, he concluded. A First Lady had to be many things to many people, and there was no way any single personality could accommodate so many different requests. So some role-playing was inevitable.
"This is Michelle Maxwell, Mrs… Jane."
Jane smiled graciously at Michelle and then turned back to Sean. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me so quickly."
"We thought it was going to take place at the White House."
"I thought so too, but then reconsidered. The church is a little more private. And… peaceful."
He leaned back in the pew and studied the altar for a moment before saying, "What can we do for you?"
"You really were there when it happened?"
"Yes. I was bringing a present for Willa." He went on to fill in the details of the night's events, withholding the more graphic elements.
"Tuck doesn't remember much," she said. "They said he'll be fine, no internal bleeding or anything, but his short-term memory appears to be impaired."
"That often happens with blows to the head," Michelle remarked. "But it might come back."
"The Secret Service is undertaking protection of the… extended First Family now," she said.
"Smart move," said Sean.
"The Achilles' heel finally exposed," noted Jane quietly.
Sean said, "The FBI is investigating. I'm not sure there's anything we can do that they can't."
"I threw a birthday party for Willa at Camp David. Pam was there, Willa's friends, her brother and sister. It was a very special day for a very special girl."
"She is special," Sean agreed.
"To think that on the same day of that wonderful celebration this… this horror would have happened." She suddenly stared at Sean. "I want you to find Willa. And the people responsible for this."
He swallowed nervously. "It's a federal investigation. We can't get in the middle of that. They'll eat us for lunch."
"You helped me once, Sean, and I've never forgotten that. I know I have no right to ask, but I desperately need your help again."
"But the FBI?"
She waved a dismissive hand. "I'm sure they're very good. But it goes without saying that because of Willa's relationship to me this will very quickly become a political punching bag."
"How could anyone make the murder of a mother and the kidnapping of her child political?" Michelle asked.
Jane gave her a smile that came awfully close to condescending. "We're in the middle of a reelection campaign. This town specializes in making the apolitical political, Michelle. There are no limits to the depths to which some people will go."
"And you think that might influence the FBI's investigation?" Sean said.
"I don't want to take the chance that the answer to that question is yes. I want people with only one agenda. Finding out the truth. Without smears. Without spin. Which means I want you."
"Do you have any idea why someone would have done this, Mrs. Cox?" asked Michelle.
"I can't think of anyone."
Sean suggested, "How about the usual suspects? A terrorist group? The First Family is too well protected so they go against a softer target."
"If so, we should hear some group taking responsibility then, or a demand of some kind," added Michelle.
"We might soon. What does the president think?" asked Sean.
"He's as worried and concerned as I am."
"I meant does he have any idea who might have done this?"
"I don't believe so, no."
Sean added in a delicate tone, "Does he know you're meeting with us?"
"I see no reason for him to know, at least not right now."
"With all due respect, your Secret Service detail knows, ma'am," said Michelle.
"I believe I can rely on them to be discreet."
Michelle and Sean exchanged a nervous glance. There wasn't a Secret Service agent alive who would intentionally hide anything from the president. That would be career suicide, discretion notwithstanding.
"Okay," said Sean. "But if we're going to look into this thing, our involvement may come out at some point."
Michelle interjected, "If it does we can claim we're just doing it because Sean is a friend of the family and was actually there when it happened. In fact they tried to kill me. So maybe we hang our hat on that."
Sean nodded and glanced at Jane. "We can play it that way, certainly."
"Good."
"We'll need to talk to Tuck and John and Colleen."
"I can arrange that. Tuck is still in the hospital. The children are staying at Pam's sister's house in Bethesda."
"And we'll need access to the crime scene."
Michelle added, "The FBI will have all the forensics evidence. We'll need to see that too if we're really going to get anywhere."
"I'll see what I can do. After all, this is my family."
"Okay," Sean said slowly, watching her closely.
"So you'll do it?" She laid her hand over the top of Sean's.
He looked at Michelle, who gave a quick nod. "We'll do it."
CHAPTER 11
THEY LEFT THE CHURCH. The Town Car was not waiting for them.
"I guess we didn't pay for a round trip," muttered Michelle.
They were starting to walk across Lafayette Park when Sean said, "Hold on to your organs. Here they come."
The two men were marching with a shared purpose. One was Sour Face, the FBI agent. The other one Sean knew well, as did Michelle. He was Secret Service, higher-up Secret Service named Aaron Betack. The man's distinguished career at the Service had swiftly propelled him from the trenches to the power tower, and Sean noted he had quite the spring in his step right now.
They blocked Sean and Michelle's way.
Sean feigned surprise. "Hey, you guys out for a stroll too? Great minds and all."
Sour Face said, "We know where you've been and who you just talked to and we're here to put the kibosh on it right now. The last thing we need are two cowboys-" He paused and leered at Michelle. "Excuse me, and cowgirl screwing this up."
"I never did get your name," said Sean pleasantly.
"FBI Special Agent Chuck Waters, WFO."
"That's good to know," put in Michelle. "Because I've just been referring to you as dickhead."
"Maxwell," snapped Betack. "You show some damn respect."
"Show me something I should respect and I will," she shot back.
Waters inched closer to her and waggled a finger an inch from her nose. "You just back the hell off, little lady."
Since Michelle was nearly four inches taller than Waters, she said, "If I'm a little lady that must mean you're a dwarf."
"And just so you know, Chuck, this little lady here can kick all of our asses without breaking a sweat, so back off," said Sean.
Betack, who was the same size as the six-foot-two King with even broader shoulders, cleared his throat and gave his FBI colleague a cautious look and then a shake of the head. Waters's face flamed red but he did take a noticeable step back.
Betack said, "Sean, you and Maxwell are not investigating this case. Period."
"Last time I looked at my pay stub it didn't mention Uncle Sam."
"Nevertheless-"
"There's no nevertheless. We met with a prospective client. We have agreed to represent said client. This is America. They allow that sort of thing here. Now, we have a case to get working on."
"You're really going to regret this, King," barked Waters.
"I've regretted a lot of things in my life. And yet here I am."
He pushed past them and Michelle followed. She made sure to let her elbow impact with Waters's shoulder.
When they got back to Michelle's SUV she said, "I was really proud of you back there."
"Don't be. We just made enemies of two of the most powerful agencies in the world."