Page 24 of The First Gentleman

Two hours later, I’m eating waffles with Garrett in the downstairs lounge.

This is nice. Cozy. Almost makes me forget why we’re up here—to dig up evidence that the man married to the president of the country has blood on his hands.

“How many people know that we’re working on this book?” I ask.

“Marcia Dillion. Felicia Bonanno. Teresa. And we told Laurie yesterday.”

“You think Marcia is blabbing it around back in New York?”

“No way. Not until she sees what we’ve got.” He turns to me with a guilty look. “While you were sleeping, I called in a little backup.”

“Not your friend in Roxbury again!”

“Seymour is definitely not my friend,” says Garrett.

“One of your hackers, then.”

Garrett doesn’t say anything. Got him. “The Ukrainian or the Serbian?”

“The Ukrainian. Daryna. She’s an expert digital fact finder. Reliable and fast.” Garrett sips his coffee. “Here’s another idea you won’t like. We need to cover more ground. I think we should conduct separate research.”

He’s right—I don’t like this idea either. And I’m sure it shows on my face. “Garrett. We work together. We’re a team.”

“Just listen,” he says. “We need to find out who was writing for the underground student newspaper and who might have known about the story that got killed. Digging out files and records is your strength, so I was thinking you could look for that reporter.”

“And you?”

“I’ll rent a car and head to Boston,” says Garrett. “Meet with a retired police detective who worked the Bonanno case back then, see how the cops handled Suzanne’s disappearance.”

“Ordidn’thandle it.” I can’t help inserting that on Suzanne’s behalf.

Garrett nods, acknowledging my point. “Afterward,” he says, “I’ll head down to Providence to look for Tony Romero.”

CHAPTER

21

The White House

The phone on Maddy’s desk rings and rings. Maddy finally picks up. “Yes?”

“Madam President, Jessica Martin from thePostis here for her appointment.”

“Very good,” says Maddy. “Have someone escort her to the study.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Maddy hangs up, pushes away from the Resolute desk, and walks to the door that opens into the president’s study. It’s much smaller than the Oval Office, with a low wooden desk, bookcases, and three chairs. A coffee service sits at one end of the desk.

Maddy eases down into one of the chairs and thinks about the advice she’s gotten from former presidents. There’s a consistent thread: Compartmentalize; approach problems one at a time; once a decision is made, never look back.

A knock on the door. “Come in,” says Maddy.

And always, always, focus on the big issues. Don’t major in the minor, like tracking who’s using the White House tennis court or fretting over criticism in a column written by someone who doesn’t have all the facts.

Maddy walks over to the door as it opens. A young male aide says, “Madam President, Jessica Martin of theWashington Post.”

Maddy smiles. “As if we’ve never met.” The president extends her hand. The reporter returns her firm grip. “Thanks for coming, Jessica.”

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