“That’s what really scares me, Jack. You don’t even see it coming.”
He tried to catch her eye, but she wouldn’t look at him directly. His brain was working overtime, searching for the magic words. They didn’t seem to exist.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to get into all this tonight.”
“No, I think it’s a good thing.”
She rose and grabbed her coat. “I’m going to bed.”
“Right behind you,” he said, rising.
His BlackBerry chimed, signaling a “new” voice mail message that was actually four hours old. Jack was getting crappy wireless service in Washington. Jack listened as he and Andie walked toward the elevators.
“This call is for Jack Swyteck. Paulette Sparks from CNN International.”
She paused for more than just a moment. Jack might have hung up on another reporter, but he would have recognized Paulette as an important Washington player and a television personality even before his father’s nomination.
“I’d like to meet with you,” she said. “Tonight, if possible. Or first thing tomorrow. There’s something I need to discuss with you. It’s important.”
There was another pause, and Jack sensed that it wasn’t just for effect. The silence between thoughts and halting cadence were very unlike her confident on-air delivery. It only intrigued Jack further.
“This is not another reporter hounding you and your father for the Washington scoop. In fact, this will be totally off the record.”
One more pause.
“It’s…personal, you might say. Call me. Please.”
The message ended, and Jack tucked away his phone, thinking.
“Who was that?” said Andie.
“A reporter.”
“As Ronald Reagan once said, ‘There you go again.’”
“No, this sounded different. She says it’s personal.”
“Funny,” said Andie, as the elevator door opened.
“What?” said Jack.
Andie stepped inside. “I didn’t think
Chapter 13
At 6:00 A.M. Jack walked Andie down to the cab stand in front of the hotel.
“Now remember, Jack. When you go up Capitol Hill without your Jill, don’t fall down and break your crown.”
“Very funny,” he said, then kissed her good-bye. She had an early flight and, as she’d predicted, Jack wasn’t going back with her.
Jack hadn’t slept well last night. He wasn’t really worried about that team of Washington lawyers. He’d dealt with those types before.
The call from Paulette Sparks was on his mind.
Jack walked back upstairs, showered, and dressed. He figured 7:00 A.M. was a civilized hour to return Paulette’s call, given the urgency she had seemed to attach to their meeting.
“Thanks for calling,” she said. “Can you meet me at the Pennsylvania Avenue Caribou Coffee at seven- thirty?”
His meeting with the lawyers wasn’t until nine-thirty. “What’s this about?”
“Can’t discuss it on the phone. We have to meet.”
She made it sound as though they really did
“Sure, I’ll see you there,” he said.
Jack did his best to be on time, but he had so much on his mind that he walked right past the coffee shop without even realizing it. Paulette was on her second cup by the time he doubled back and apologized for being late, but she thanked him just for showing up. Either she was the nicest journalist he’d ever met, or she
“I enjoy your coverage of the White House,” he said.
“Thank you. Let’s hope that doesn’t change.”
She was smiling when she said it, showing Jack a warmth that seemed more genuine than her television personality. She was prettier in real life, too. Less makeup.
“I saw the e-mail you got on Sunday,” said Paulette.
“Really? That hasn’t been made public.”
“I’m a Washington reporter. I see lots of things that haven’t been made public.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t discuss it with you.”
“That’s fine. I’ve already promised the FBI that I wouldn’t go on the air with it.”
“A journalist with self-restraint is a good thing,” said Jack, “at least until the FBI has a better handle on the threat against the president.”
“Nor do I want to jeopardize the investigation into my sister’s murder.”
Jack paused. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. When did that happen?”
“Saturday night. She was shot at a bus stop here in the district a few hours before you got your e-mail.”
“Are you saying there’s a connection?”
She took her iPhone from her purse, pulled up an image on the screen, and slid the phone across the table to him. “You tell me.”
“What is this?”
“It’s a picture I took of Chloe’s e-mail inbox on Sunday morning, right before the FBI came to her apartment with a warrant and took away her computer. Look at the subject line for the message third from the bottom.”
Jack didn’t have his e-mail memorized, but Chloe’s message-
“Eerie, isn’t it?” said Paulette.
“What did the full message say?”
“The FBI won’t show it to me, and I’m still working on a source to leak it.”
“I’m not your source.”
“Don’t need one yet. When I do, I’ll let you know. You’ll come around.”
Jack wasn’t sure if she was kidding, serious, or somewhere in between. He took another look at the photograph.
“I need some context here. Why would your sister get an e-mail like this?”
She began with a sigh, and Jack listened to the compressed version of what he knew was a much longer story. Juxtaposed with Chloe’s most recent job at the
“Why did she get fired?”
“They said she got caught with a joint in her purse.”
“You sound skeptical.”
“Chloe always denied it was hers. Claimed somebody planted it on her. I didn’t believe her. Now, I’m not so sure.”
“What changed?”
“As I’m sure you can imagine, Chloe was kind of an embarrassment for me around the White House.”
“Because she got fired?”
“That. And the rumors.”
“What rumors?”
Paulette smiled thinly. “We’re here.”
