Born to Run

She shrugged. “Should I know her?”

“Last year she was a White House intern assigned to the vice president. She was fired for-”

“Ah, yes. The druggy.”

“She was murdered Saturday night.”

Mrs. Grayson paused to absorb the news. “I hadn’t heard about that.”

“From what I’ve gathered on the Internet, it was much bigger news in her hometown of Chicago than it was here. What little media attention it got in Washington was couched in terms of Chloe being the younger stepsister of White House reporter Paulette Sparks.”

“How awful for Paulette. I’ve always thought she was such a class act. And her sister-well, what a terrible downward spiral for a young person with so much promise.”

“She was a reporter for the Inquiring Star when she was shot.”

Her arms folded in a defensive posture. No one among Washington’s elite escaped the Inquiring Star. “Now that you mention it, I think I had heard that somewhere.”

“Chloe was having discussions with an anonymous source who claimed to have information that could bring down President Keyes.”

“Now that sounds like something I would have heard on the news.”

“It’s not public information. I heard it from Paulette Sparks. She also told me that Chloe was trying to communicate with the vice president-trying so hard that the FBI contacted Paulette about possible stalking issues. Do you know anything about that?”

“No.”

Jack paused, expecting her to say more. But she was finished.

“You don’t seem to believe me,” she said.

“I do. But honestly, I came here expecting you to say that Chloe’s anonymous source and her attempts to contact the vice president had everything to do with the questions you have about your husband’s death.”

“Well, I didn’t know about those things, so they obviously could not have raised any questions in my mind, could they?”

She seemed to be closing that door pretty tightly. “Obviously not.”

“But I’ll make a deal with you, Harry Swyteck’s son Jack. I will tell you what makes me question Phil’s death, if you’ll tell me what the FBI doesn’t seem to want anyone to know: What caused you and the FBI to arrange that meeting with a homeless man outside the museum on Sunday morning?”

Jack paused. Telling her about the anonymous e-mail was no small step, even if Paulette Sparks-a member of the media-did already know about it.

She said, “Naturally all of this remains between us. You have my word on it.”

Jack was still considering it. She was a curious woman, the widow Grayson. But for reasons he could not fully explain-perhaps it was the way she had reached out to him at the funeral-he trusted her.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” said Jack, and then he fell silent.

“I’m listening,” she said.

“Former Second Ladies first. Please.”

She smiled thinly, as if she liked his style. And then she told him.

Chapter 16

“With or without training wheels, dude?” said Theo.

Theo Knight was the last person Jack had expected to run into at the hotel bar at the end of the day. A flight of tequila shots was set up before him. “Training wheels” were lemon and salt.

“I’m not doing tequila tonight,” said Jack. “And what the hell are you doing in D.C.?”

“Interview.”

“For what?”

“Secretary of Education. I’m big on educational programs. Head Start. Wipe No Child’s Behind. All the big ones.”

“It’s Leave No Child Behind, Einstein. Seriously, what are you doing here?”

“Your father’s lawyers want to talk to me.”

Shit, I am a potted plant. “Nobody told me about that.”

“Said they’re afraid something might come up about the settlement money you got from the state of Florida to pay me back for the four years I spent on death row.”

Jack processed it: it took an act of the state legislature to get compensation for wrongful conviction. Harry’s signature had approved the settlement that made it possible for Theo to buy Sparky’s Tavern.

“So,” said Theo, “with or without?”

“I’m meeting with about a dozen lawyers and the White House chief of staff first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Definitely without,” said Theo. He slid the brimming shot glass in front of Jack.

“Did you not hear me?” said Jack. “No tequila.”

“Dude, what did we do when your ex-wife turned into a fruitcake?”

“Tequila.”

“When your girlfriend Mia dyed her hair, changed her name, and left town?”

“Tequila.”

“When Rene chose relief work in Africa over a love life in Miami?”

“Tequila.”

“Exactly. We’re talking tradition here. You can’t break tradition.”

“You’re talking as if Andie dumped me.”

“Well, she’s going to-if you don’t get rid of this really nasty case of Washington-itis.”

“You talked to her?”

“Yeah. She likes Miami fuckup Jack. Not Capitol suck-up Jack.”

“You make me sound pathetic.”

“You are pathetic.”

Jack raised his glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

They belted back their shots together.

“Smooooth,” said Theo.

Jack winced, as if he were drinking gasoline. “I hope we’re not starting with the good stuff,” said Jack, and he belted back another shot. He slammed the empty glass on the bar and added, “Vice President Grayson had ED.”

It was a perfectly timed non sequitur that had Theo coughing on his tequila. “You mean…the guy… couldn’t-”

“Is there another kind of ED?”

“I don’t know. What do politicians get-electile dysfunction?”

“Stop being an idiot. He had ED.”

“How do you know this?”

“His widow told me.”

“When?”

“Right after his daughter asked me out to lunch.”

“You shittin’ me?”

“No.”

“Dude, you gotta let me come on that date. A mother-daughter thing is like my biggest fantasy.”

“First off, it’s not a date. She wants to tell me what it’s like when your father is vice president.”

“Sounds better than a date,” said Theo, as he slipped into an affected Elizabeth Grayson voice. “Oh, Jack, I’ve been so lonely. Greta Garbo lonely. Farmer’s daughter lonely. Lonelygirl 15 on the Internet lonely. Kiss me, you