Page 63 of The First Gentleman

CHAPTER

58

Mr. Wright?” Garrett asks.

“I’ll get to the point, Garrett. You and Brea Cooke are writing a book about me. How would you like an in-person interview with your subject?”

“Withyou?”

“Yes, with me. It’ll be just the two of us. No handlers in attendance.” Wright sounds cordial, warm. Like a pal.

“Brea’s not here at the moment, sir. Can we wait until—”

“Sorry. It has to happen today. Come by yourself. You can fill her in later.”

This is the scoop of a lifetime!Garrett thinks. Everything they’ve been working for. More than they ever hoped for.

“This would be on the record?” Garrett asks. His head is spinning.

“Absolutely,” says Wright. “Put Agent Keil back on.”

Though Keil steps away from the rental car to take the call, Garrett can hear her say, “Yes, sir. Understood, sir.”

At the Suburban in front of him, Keil has a quick exchangewith the agent behind the wheel. Garrett sees her nodding, then pointing at him. She sticks her phone back into her pocket. She walks over to the rental car and opens the door.

“I’m driving.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll know when we get there.”

Garrett exits the vehicle and goes around to the passenger seat. The Suburban ahead pulls out of the breakdown lane, lights flashing, and speeds away. Keil puts the car in gear. “What is this, a Corolla?”

“Yeah. A rental.”

Keil jams her foot down on the gas. Garrett’s head is thrown back against the seat. The Corolla accelerates and moves in behind the Suburban. The second SUV pulls up behind them. Garrett looks out the passenger side. Within ten seconds, the passing countryside is a blur.

“These things can move,” says Keil, “if they’re handled right.”

Garrett tilts his head to peek at the speedometer. Eighty-five and climbing.

“Can I use my phone?” asks Garrett.

“No, you can’t,” says Keil, maneuvering to within three feet of the Suburban’s rear bumper and locking in at ninety miles per hour. “Just relax and enjoy the ride.”

CHAPTER

59

Concord, New Hampshire

Sad outcome, Marie. But I’m glad it was you who finally found her.”

Deputy Attorney General Hugh Bastinelli is sitting behind his desk in his book-lined office. Across from him is Detective Sergeant Gagnon. Dark suit, white blouse. Her handbag is stashed under the cushioned chair.

“I was hoping for a happier ending,” says Gagnon, “but after seventeen years…”

Bastinelli finishes the thought. “We all knew the odds were against that.”

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