“This is absurd.” Phillip raked his hands through his hair. “Her own daughter was here. Why would she do this?”
“I’m not saying she did. I’m saying she had the access, and we need to consider that.”
“Does that mean the First Lady is a suspect, too?” Phillip asked. He could feel the scorn coating his tongue, his face aflame. “If access is the key, does that mean I am a suspect as well?”
“Mr. President …” Wilcox, unrattled, crossed his arms again. “You asked me here for a reason, and I believe it’s to get to the bottom of what is happening. You said it yourself. You said you have a high degree of trust in me. However, in order to do my job the way I need to do my job, I need to speak with Jamie Carter.”
Deep down, Phillip knew Wilcox was right, but his loyalty to Jamie was fierce. “She asked me not to give the telephone number to anyone,” he said flatly.
Wilcox seemed unfazed. “And that doesn’t seem odd to you?”
“In a word, Agent Wilcox? No. You were there with us. You know what that woman went through.”
“I understand,” Wilcox said, in his familiar calm, reassuring voice. “But even if she is innocent of any wrongdoing, and I suspect she is, she may know something that can help us. And … while we’re on the subject of people who can help us, I’d also like to talk with Samuel O’Connell again.”
“Samuel O’Connell?” The name made the hairs on the back of Phillip’s neck rise. “You think he had something to do with this? He’s a kid.”
“He’s the kid who took the video of you at the Barbara farmhouse. When I interviewed him three years ago, I got the feeling he knew more than he let on. About what, I’m not sure, but there’s something there. I know it. He’d be a good place to start.”
Phillip also believed that Samuel O’Connell knew more than he let on, and for that reason he had hoped to never hear from him again. “That is your decision,” Phillip said. He reached for his jacket that had been hanging on the back of his office chair since he had been rushed down to the Presidential Emergency Operations Center. “You do what you need to. Your badge is waiting for you with security in the lobby. And about Jamie …” Phillip buttoned his jacket. “I will contact her and let her know what is going on and inquire as to when she will be returning.”
“Thank you, Mr. President.”
“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Phillip said, heading toward the door. “I have to go give Collins—and maybe Katherine—some oxygen.”
CHAPTER 6
Jamie had been driving for nearly twelve hours, and after an eighteen-hour trip the day before, she should have been exhausted, but her adrenaline was still pumping. It was as if the near-explosion at the White House had awakened some kind of long-dormant plan, buried in the deep recesses of her brain, that kicked into action: Get Faith to safety, and do it now.
She looked through her rearview mirror at the backseat of the rental car where Faith was sleeping fitfully in her car seat, lulled by the constant drone of the motor. Her expression, although innocent, conveyed such a gravity that was beyond her years. How could Faith only have been four years old? While other parents were marveling at how quickly time was moving, Jamie, instead, felt like the years inched forward as if coated in mud. She imagined that’s what happened when each day—each minute of each day—was fraught with worry:
Why is that man staring?
Where are the building exits in case we need to leave?
Is someone following us?
Constant vigilance was draining. And if the worries seemed to be putting the years on the little girl’s face, Jamie could only imagine what they were doing to her own.
She checked her rearview and side-view mirrors. When she was a freelance writer, she had once written a feature story about a private investigator and had learned all kinds of useful tips about how to conduct a stakeout or spot a tail, but she never thought she’d ever use them—or remember them. Now, they were a part of her every day—varying her routes to the supermarket, driving a half hour out of her way to visit Edward, always carrying a change of clothing, including sunglasses and hats—all to make sure she wasn’t being followed. Routine, the autopilot that gets most people through their days, would never be a part of hers. Or Faith’s.
“Momma?” Faith stretched her arms and changed positions, the chewed-up straw that dangled out of her mouth dropping to the car floor. “Are we there yet?”
“Almost, sweetie. You want to watch another movie?”
Faith shrugged. She had already seen the movies they had brought twice. “I guess.”
“I’ll tell you what, just one more movie, and by the time the movie is finished, we will be there. Deal?”
Faith smiled. “Deal.”
Jamie slipped Finding Nemo, Faith’s favorite, into the DVD player as the little girl settled again into her car seat, and she pulled the wrinkled map that was lying on the front passenger seat onto her lap. Jamie bristled at how few ragged, zigzaggy lines there were in this part of the country. If there was one thing she learned on her first trip out west, it was that there was a lot of wide open space. The topography looked more like a tic-tac-toe board than a map, and she instinctively looked once again at her mirrors, missing the safety of the East Coast’s tangle of roadways. Fewer routes meant that she and Faith would be easier to find if anyone was looking for them, not that Jamie was sure anyone was. At least not yet.
She put her finger on the city of Cody, Wyoming, which looked like a pencil point being swallowed up by white space, and she was overcome with doubt. Was she crazy? President Grand seemed to think she was, dragging her daughter away from the people who loved her the most as well as the Secret Service, arguably the best law enforcement in the world. She probably was, but the moment that silent alarm had rung, Jamie could think of only one place to go—an address she had kept secret for more than three years:
33 Cooper Court, Cody, Wyoming.
She put her blinker on and changed lanes. In her mind’s eye, she could still see Bailino sitting in the driver’s seat of Joey’s car, intent on taking them to this place that he claimed could keep them safe. Yet, that was more than three years ago. Would they be safe there now?
After another hour, Jamie got off at an exit for Cody and brought the rental car to a stop on a desolate corner. A large billboard shouted that the town was named after Colonel William Frederick “Buffalo Bill” Cody, but there was little to see beyond the flat, unforgiving terrain, the mountains in the distance looking like stacked rocks. She stared at the map.
“Are we there, Momma?” Faith asked, looking out the window.
“Almost,” Jamie said, but she was having second thoughts. She felt more exposed than ever out there, and if she hadn’t kept Faith cooped up in the car for all this time already, she had a good mind to turn back and come up with some kind of Plan B. She turned on her burner phone and checked to see if Phillip Grand had left her any messages. He hadn’t. She turned it back off.
“Which way are we supposed to go?” Faith asked.
Jamie didn’t know. She was reluctant to plug the address into an electronic device, which was no-no number one if you were trying to lose a tail. She decided to drive for a bit. Maybe she would come across a visitor or tourist center.
She put the car into gear and drove for a few minutes until she came upon an old man with a cane ambling along the side of the road. His sunken face was covered by flaps of skin and a ZZ Top beard. What were the odds that this guy was following them or was some kind of serial killer? She’d have to take her chances. Still, she reached down to feel for her pistol sitting in her calf holster before pulling the car next to him.
“Excuse me,” she said, rolling down her window. In her rearview mirror, she could see Faith sitting upright in her seat, looking curiously at the old man.
The man slowed down but continued walking, as if afraid to stop because he might not start again. “Good afternoon, ma’am,” he said. “Are you lost?”
“No, not exactly …” Jamie said. She knew she probably looked lost, but it was no-no number two to say that to a stranger. She kept her hand on the pistol under her jeans.
“Figured you might be,” the man said. “You don’t look like you’re from these parts. I’m guessing you’re from back East?”
Jamie’s hand squeezed the pistol tighter. “Why do you say that?”
“You got that anxiousness all about your face.” The old man chuckled. “Plus, you got Virginia plates.” He smiled. “Where you off to?”
“I’m looking for Cooper Court.”
“Oh, the Carter place?”
Jamie stiffened at the sound of her name. “Um, I didn’t …”
“Well, the Carter place is the only thing on Cooper Court, so that must be where you’re off to, unless you’ve got your signals crossed. Most people from back East do.” He chuckled again.
“Yes, I guess that’s what I’m looking for.” She glanced again in the rearview mirror at Faith, who was still eyeing the man closely. “The Carter place.”
The man lifted his eyebrows in surprise. “Don’t get many people looking to go there.” He scratched his cheek and looked around as if trying to remember where he was. “Well, then, you’re not far at all.” He pointed down the road. “Just make a turn here and follow this road about three miles. Make a left when you get to Marge’s store, which is the one with all the nice tables outside. She sells ices in the summertime. The kids love it.” He ducked his head down. “Hello, little lady.”
Faith smiled but didn’t say anything.
“You mentioned Marge’s store,” Jamie said, trying to redirect the man’s attention. She inched the car forward to keep up with him. “Is Cooper Court close to there?”
“Yessiree, just make a left and take that road all the way north to Cooper, and you’ll see it there a ways down, on your right.”
“Thank you so much.” Jamie turned the steering wheel to get back on the road and sped in the direction the old man had indicated.
“Have a nice day!” she heard him call. “And, remember, no need to be in such a rush. You’re in the West now!” He said something else, but by then Jamie had closed the window.
“Was that a nice man, Momma?” Faith asked when they had driven a few blocks.
“I don’t know,” Jamie said. “I don’t really know him very well.”
“Yeah, I don’t either,” Faith said, narrowing her eyes.
Jamie had been in Cody, Wyoming, for only a few minutes, but she felt like she had already seen everything there was to see. Yet, in another mile or so a small downtown appeared, resembling something out of a John Wayne western. Old-fashioned storefronts stood side by side and in various weathered colors, offering clothing and housewares, ice cream, beer, and leather goods. Then came the more familiar stuff—gas stations, banks, wireless telecommunications stores, a McDonald’s, and a few museums, including the Buffalo Bill museum. Soon, Marge’s store appeared, just as the old man had described. It was hard to miss. Colorful flags surrounded it on all sides as if the restaurant were being suspended like a hammock.
“Are we getting ices?” Faith asked, brightening.
“I’m not sure they’re open, honey. It’s not summertime anymore.”
“Can’t we stop and see?”
“Not today.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes, tomorrow,” Jamie said finally, and Faith sat back in her seat, satisfied.
Jamie made a left turn down a narrow road that took them quickly out of the downtown area and onto another barren landscape. After driving for twenty minutes, her internal antennae perked up. She was beginning to think that the old man had given her bum directions.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Faith’s arms wave in the air.
“Momma, look, snow!” she squealed as tiny snowflakes began to dot the front windshield.
“I see it,” Jamie said, putting on her windshield wipers.
The flakes became larger and more frequent, and Jamie’s ears began to pop with the rise in elevation. They came upon a small intersection or what appeared to be an intersection—the cross street was barely a dirt road. Jamie stopped the car, the sound of the motor and the thump of the windshield wiper the only sound in the desolate landscape, where the snow was settling all around them.
“This can’t be it,” Jamie said, looking for a street sign. “Maybe I missed it?”
“Momma!” Faith pointed outside the window. “It’s a sign!”
“Where?” Jamie leaned over and peered out the passenger window but didn’t see anything beyond a line of trees.
Faith was pointing toward the ground. “Down there.”
Jamie put the car in park, took off her seat belt, and moved closer to the window. Outside, on the ground, was a wooden street sign that read Cooper Court.
“Is that it?” Faith asked. “It begins with a C. Is that the one we’re looking for?”
“Yes, honey, that’s the one.”
Perhaps the old man had come through. She put the car into gear and was about to make a right on the small road when Faith called out again.
“Momma, look!” She was pointing about ten yards down Cooper Court at a wooden post, and that’s when Jamie saw it: a mailbox. She turned right and inched the car up to the post to read the name hanging on a small plank of wood:
Carter.
She caught her breath. This was it.
“Hey, that says my name,” Faith said. “C-A-R-T-E-R. Carter. Why does it say my name, Momma? And why did that man say our name? Is this our house?”
“I’m not sure.”
“But—”
“Hold on, honey, just let me think for a minute. I have to figure some things out.”
Seeing her name on the tiny sign in the middle of nowhere was both reassuring and unsettling, as if she and Faith were being expected. She didn’t like that. She tried to remember what Bailino had said about the man who lived there. He was an architect and lived alone, but so much could have changed in three years. Had the man married? Had he moved away and had someone else moved in? Why did it say Carter? Had that been the man’s name? She looked around and saw nothing but trees and mountains, but the snow was really coming down now, hampering visibility. Was the Carter home even there anymore? Had the place been razed?
She pressed the gas pedal, and the car’s wheels spun on the ice.
Shit.
“Momma, I’m getting cold,” Faith said.
Jamie pressed the gas pedal, this time harder, but the wheels only spun faster. She quickly turned on the heat, threw the car into reverse, and floored it. The car bucked backward off the icy patch until they were back in the intersection. Still not a car in any direction.
“Are we going to Carter’s house, Momma?” Faith asked.
The sun, now hidden behind a gray blanket, seemed to be quickly sinking. They didn’t have much time before sunset.
“Yes, we’ll see what’s there, honey.” She put the car back into drive, drove around the ice patch, and continued down Cooper Court.
The road was uneven, the rental car bucking up and down like a bronco. In her rearview mirror, Faith’s little body bounced up and down in the car seat. They drove for five more minutes, the road curving into a patch of tall trees, and the snow disappeared entirely until they came out the other side. Now Jamie could tell she was on a hill. She was getting concerned—the farther they drove from the town, the longer it was going to take to get back, and it was already beginning to get dark.
“Maybe we should head back,” Jamie said. She pulled the car onto a patch of clean snow at the crest of a small hill and caught her breath.
Below them, down a short roadway, was an enormous log cabin.
“Momma, look!” Faith said.
“I know. I see it, honey.”
“Is that Carter’s house?”
“I don’t know.”
She drove slowly toward the home, her tires crunching the snow along the pebbled
driveway, and stopped just before the house.
“Are we here?” Faith said eagerly.
It was quiet, but Jamie’s quickened heartbeat rang in her ears. The large house was three stories high and nearly identical to the contemporary-styled log cabin Bailino had owned in upstate New York. The home’s large floor-to-ceiling windows faced west, and Jamie imagined whoever lived there had a stunning view of the sunset each evening. Behind it was a smaller house, which must have been the guesthouse Bailino mentioned to her, where he had planned on staying.
Jamie sat in the car for a few minutes to see if anyone would come out to greet them, but no one did. She threw the car into park, turned off the ignition, the silence settling on the car like a blanket, and opened the door. As she got out, her legs buckled beneath her, and she almost landed in the snow.
“Momma, are you okay?”
“Yes, sweetie.” She stretched her legs as she opened the back door and Faith tumbled out of the car.
“My legs don’t work either, Momma,” she said with a laugh, landing in the snow.
“Careful, sweetie,” she said. “Don’t get too wet.” She frowned at the little girl’s sneakers and her own Mary Janes. Neither of them were prepared for this weather.
“It’s so cold, Momma, but, look, it’s melting in my hands.” Faith dug her hands into the snow and scrunched up a handful into a ball.
Jamie smiled. It had been a long time since Faith had played in the snow. Washington, D.C., hadn’t seen more than an inch or two since they moved there late last year.
“Kick your legs into the air a little bit,” Jamie said. “You’ll get the blood moving and also get some of that snow off your sneakers.” The little girl hopped around like a bunny.
“C’mon, let’s go see who’s home,” Jamie said. She took Faith’s hand, and they walked toward the log cabin.
“It’s so pretty here,” Faith said. “Who lives here, Momma?”
“A man.”
“His name is Carter too?”
Baby Carter (Baby Grand Trilogy, Book 3) Page 5
