She was dressed in a dark blue skirt and blazer, with a cream-colored blouse. She looked like an athlete, like a woman who could have pulled Robert Lee to safety if she’d been able to find him. She sipped from the cappuccino Bo had bought for her, and she nibbled on a croissant.
“You radioed for help right away?”
“Before I went into the water. I knew I’d need medical backup at the very least.”
“You said in your statement that he was alone. You’re certain?”
“I was close enough that I could see his boat pretty well. He was alone.”
“You also said something seemed to have caught his attention. Any idea what?”
“Like I said, the wind came up suddenly and shifted. I was busy with my own boat, preparing to come about. When I looked back at him, he was just beginning to stand, looking toward shore. I saw that big boom swinging, and I knew what was going to happen. I even opened my mouth to yell, but it was too late.” She let out a deep breath, as if she’d just gone through the experience again. “So, no. I didn’t see what he was seeing. I was watching him.”
Bo took a sip of his iced coffee. “When you were ATF, you were cited for valor at Waco.”
“Yes.”
“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“We got the order to go. Then all hell broke loose. They fired on us from the compound. One of my fellow agents went down. I just pulled him out of there.”
“I understand you were wounded yourself at the time.”
“I didn’t realize it then. I was pretty intent on getting Alex out.”
“Alex?”
“The other agent. We partnered on occasion.”
“Alex. Did he make it?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry.” Bo listened to the ice crack in his coffee. “Somebody tipped them off, right?”
“Yeah. But hell, we knew that going in. It was a mistake. A criminal decision.” She sounded bitter. Bo wondered if that had anything to do with her choice to move into the private sector.
He wanted to bring the discussion back to the issue at hand, Robert Lee. “On the map, Bone Creek Cove appears small and out of the way. What were you doing there?”
“Probably the same thing as Lee. The bald eagles. Because the inlet’s isolated, there are a number of bald eagles that nest there. They’re quite beautiful.” She lifted her coffee cup, but before she drank she said, “Not a lot of people know that. I’d just as soon you keep it to yourself. I’d hate to see that lovely place overrun.”
“Maybe that’s what caught Robert Lee’s attention. He saw the eagles.”
“Maybe.”
“Did you see any eagles that day?”
“No. That day all I saw was a man die.” She pushed her croissant away, barely touched. “Mind if I ask you a question?”
“Go right ahead.”
“You’re Secret Service. The investigation was FBI. What’s your interest?”
“His proximity to the president. We just want to be on the safe side.”
“A good idea,” she agreed.
After they’d separated, Bo thought about Jonetta Jackson. He figured if she hadn’t been able to save Robert Lee, probably no one could.
chapter
thirty-five
Bo pulled up to the northwest gate of the White House at 6:00P.M. The Uniformed Division officer on duty checked him through. Bo drove to the West Wing, where Lorna Channing awaited him.
They’d agreed that it might be best for Bo to conduct whatever investigation he felt was necessary within the White House in the evening when many of the staff had gone home for the day. Even so, there seemed to be an enormous amount of activity in the West Wing.
Bo knew the White House employed more than 1,600 personnel. He’d heard it described as a small kingdom made up of innumerable fiefdoms, each with its own rules and ruler. Within such a setting, he could easily imagine intrigues. As he and Channing proceeded to the second floor, Bo caught glances directed his way. Eyes latched onto him and held in a way that made him feel exposed. How secret was his mission, he wondered.
Upstairs, Channing paused at a modest outer office. “Working late, Dorothy,” she said to the secretary there.
The nameplate on the desk said D. DELVITTO. She was a small woman, and when she glanced up from her computer screen, she looked tired. “There’s so much to do these days.” She gave Bo a quick once-over.
“I’m picking up some items from Bob’s office,” Channing said.
Dorothy Delvitto nodded somberly. “The president left word you’d be dropping by.”
Channing led the way inside and Bo followed, closing the door behind them.
He stood in the middle of the room. He didn’t know where to begin, so for a moment he simply tried to take in the place, hoping to get a feel for how Robert Lee might have worked, how he might have organized himself, where he might have put certain things. All of which would have been easier if Bo had the slightest idea what he was looking for.
Lee was a neat man. The office was clean and orderly. There were shelves of books dealing with law and with congressional issues, several filing cabinets, and near the window, a hutch with a computer, monitor, and printer. In one corner sat a large safe. A big desk was central and, except for a couple of neat stacks of papers, was free of clutter. To the left on the desktop, set in a gold frame, was a photograph of Lee standing proudly beside his docked sailboat. Another photograph, in a much larger frame, occupied a place to the right. This one was a family portrait, Lee and his wife flanked by two sons who very much resembled their father. They all looked happy with life and with one another.
“Where do we begin?” Lorna Channing asked.
“Let’s see what he’s got on his desk.”
Bo began by checking the stacks of papers. Memoranda, mostly, composed but lacking Lee’s signature initials. Not sent? Nothing of their content leaped out at Bo as significant to his purpose. Channing shook her head as well.
They went carefully through the desk drawers and drew a blank there.
“The computer?” Lorna Channing said.
Bo went to the hutch and turned on the PC. It booted and asked for a password. Bo looked at Channing, who just shrugged her shoulders.
“Ask Ms. Delvitto if she knows,” he said.
When she came back, she said,“Maggie.”
Lee’s wife. It made sense. Bo typed in the name, but was denied access.
“He must have changed it without telling his secretary.”
“I wonder when,” Channing said. “And why.”
Bo sat back a moment. “What are his sons’ names?”
“Nick and Cal.”
Bo tried them both, then Nicholas and Calvin. No luck.
“Any pets?”
“Not that I know of.”
“All right,” Bo said. “Let’s check the file cabinets.”
He abandoned the computer and, with Channing, went through the cabinets, drawer after drawer. He didn’t hope to stumble across anything marked as obviously asSenator Dixon’s Conspiracy, but he hoped something might
