Page 15 of The First Gentleman

Right,thinks Cole.Disappear. Pretend I don’t exist.

Cole does just the opposite. He slows down, jogs over to the enthusiastic group, and peels off his windbreaker to reveal a Dartmouth sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off.

“Go, Big Green!” someone in the crowd shouts, bringing Cole back to his gridiron glory days. The faces in front are beaming and excited. Outstretched hands wave scraps of paper and Cole Wright memorabilia.

He sees Leanne step beside him, her head on a swivel. The other agents form a protective cordon around him.

Cole pulls a Sharpie out of the pouch of his sweatshirt. Always good to have one handy. He steps up to the crowd and starts scribbling his autograph on the various photos and magazine covers held out to him.

“Thank you,” Cole says over and over. “Great to see you.” He bumps a few fists and poses for a few selfies. This is nothing compared to the crowds he used to attract outside Gillette Stadium, but still, the recognition feels good.

“Hey, Cole!” shouts a man from the rear of the pack. “I was at the Bills game!”

Cole flashed back to making the fingertip catch for a TD inthe last second of the fourth quarter, sending the Pats into the playoffs.

“Thanks, buddy!” Cole calls out. “That was a good day!”

A young woman pushes to the front. She’s holding out a booklet with a glossy photo spread. “Mr. Wright! Sign this! Please!” She’s pretty. Big smile.

“My pleasure.” Cole raises the pen as she thrusts the booklet in front of him. Then he freezes.

He’s looking at an old New England Patriots yearbook, open to a page showing a beaming blond cheerleader.

Suzanne Bonanno.

The air goes out of Cole’s lungs like he’s been punched in the chest. He drops the pen and turns to the Secret Service detail. “Let’s go.”

As Leanne leads the way, Cole hears the young autograph seeker call out, “Good luck, Mr. Wright! You’re gonna need it!”

CHAPTER

12

Outside Hanover, New Hampshire

I’m driving Garrett’s beat-up Subaru north across New Hampshire as he leans back in the passenger seat, snoring. I’ve always envied his ability to catch sleep on the go.

Even at twilight, the rolling hills are deep green against the backdrop of the lights marking a few distant farms. I remember the first time I came up here from New York City on the Dartmouth Coach. I was terrified of all the open space. So easy to lose your way.

Up ahead is exit 18, which leads to the state road to Hanover and Dartmouth. I take the exit, tap the brakes at the end of the ramp, and make a right turn.

I see a flicker in my rearview mirror.

Shit.

Flashing blue lights come up behind me. I can make out the shape of a dark blue police cruiser. A Ford Interceptor.

I pull over, praying he’ll blow past me on the way to a call.

But he stops.

“Garrett, wake up!” I say, slapping his arm. “We’ve got a problem.”

I flash back to a night when Garrett and I first started dating.

We’d been heading south on the Taconic State Parkway after a day of leaf-peeping. I’d driven the whole way so Garrett could snap pictures. I have no idea how fast I was going, but all of a sudden, I saw police lights pop on behind me. The parkway had a narrow shoulder, so I started looking for a safe place to stop.

It scared the crap out of me when the cop hit the siren. I almost went into a ditch when I finally pulled over, the New York state trooper following close behind.

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