Page 44 of Guarded By the SEAL
Wyatt sat in the dimly lit situation room of HERO Force. One wall was covered in monitors, several computers dotting a long desk that ran the length of another. He was numb, news of Hawk’s surgery and cardiac arrest seeming to push him over some psychological ledge.
He’d left Teslyn and Ivy in the conference room, unable to look into Tess’s knowing eyes. The last thing he could handle right now was discussing the situation, or facing the pity he was sure to see in her stare.
Logan worked at one of the computers, light from its monitor silhouetting him in an eerie blue glow as his fingers typed furiously on the keyboard. “Bingo.” He laughed maniacally. “I’ve got you now, Marilyn.”
“What did you find?”
Logan jumped in his seat. “Jesus, Bulldog. I didn’t know you were there. You scared the heck out of me.”
Wyatt sat in a rolling chair next to him. “What is it?”
“I couldn’t find any records for a Marilyn Gleason her age. Not just in high school records, but anywhere. Then I figured, what if that wasn’t her real first name? Lots of people go by something other than their legal name. So I started looking for women in her age bracket with the last name Gleason in Mississippi, and bam, I found Dale Marilyn Gleason, age 43, Clinton High School class of 1997.”
Logan downloaded and opened a series of files. “And here is their yearbook.” He opened what looked like a scanned image of the yearbook and its pages. “Now we just need to figure out which one of her classmates went on to become a congressman.”
Wyatt watched as the other man cross-referenced the student names with a current list of congressmen, quickly coming up with a name and photograph to go with it. “Meet David Pritchard, republican congressman from the great state of Florida, formerly the Sheriff of Osprey County, Mississippi.”
“That would explain why he had the cops in his pocket. Good work.” Wyatt clapped him on the back. “Print me a copy of that, will you? And see if you can find anything that positively connects Pritchard to Marilyn.” Even as he said it, Wyatt knew finding evidence was likely to be impossible. A man like Pritchard wouldn’t have left loose ends.
“I’m on it.”
Wyatt took the photo off the printer and went in search of Teslyn and Ivy, showing it to them both. “Do you know who this man is?”
Teslyn’s mouth dropped open. “Where did you get that?”
“Who is he, Teslyn?” he demanded.
“That’s Uncle Will. He used to come see us every Christmas. Where did you get it?” she repeated.
He told her about the yearbook and everything Logan found. “What about you, Ivy? Have you seen him before?”
She shook her head earnestly. “No.”
Wyatt took the paper back. “He went to high school with Marilyn in Clinton, outside of Jackson, Mississippi.”
Teslyn jerked her head back. “Clinton? That’s not possible.”
“Why not?”
“I know Clinton. It’s an affluent suburb. I can’t imagine my mother setting foot in a town like that, no less going to high school there.”
Wyatt shrugged. “She went there, all right.”
Logan entered the conference room brandishing another printout. “Not only did she go there, she was prom queen, and you’re never going to guess who the prom king was.”
“Uncle Will?” Teslyn took a second paper from Logan. “Oh, my God. That’s him. But I don’t understand. How did Marilyn go from the suburbs of Clinton to a trailer on the bayou in Osprey?”
Logan shrugged. “What causes people to drop in social status? Teen pregnancy, drug addiction, involvement in illegal activity…”
“All things Marilyn, rolled into one.” Teslyn frowned and handed the paper back to Logan. “What do we do now?”
Wyatt ran his hand through his hair. “We need proof, though I doubt we’re going to be able to find any.” He was keenly aware of the trouble Teslyn was in, and exonerating her was necessary to get her life back. But how?
“I thought you might ask. Congress is in recess,” said Logan. “Pritchard lives with his wife in St. Augustine.”
Wyatt lifted his chin and leveled his stare at Teslyn. “You and Ivy will stay here—”
“But I know him!” Teslyn interrupted. “Maybe I can get him to talk. He used to bring me flowers when I was a girl.”
