the living room with their coffees the butler had brought in. For a few minutes no one spoke. Sean and Michelle sat there tensely while Jane did not make eye contact.
Finally, Jane said, 'We've certainly come a long way.'
'How's that?' asked Sean.
'Finding Willa, getting things back on track. I can't thank you enough for what you did. If not for you, the president and I would be dead. And so would Willa.'
'Sam Quarry's dead. So is his son. And Tippi Quarry. But then you knew that. And a little boy named Gabriel lost his mother. And Diane Wohl? We knew her as Diane Wright. The woman who was screwing your husband in the car in Atlanta? You remember her, right?'
'Please don't be crude, Sean, there's no need for that.'
'So Willa lost both her mothers. That's a real tragedy.'
'You have no proof that Pam was not her mother.'
He pulled some papers from his pocket. 'Actually, I do. They're DNA results. They show Diane Wohl is or was Willa's mother.'
Jane set her cup down, touched a linen napkin against her lips, and stared at him. 'I asked you here to make an offer going forward. Not to wade through the past.'
'Why do you feel the need to do that?' he asked, while Michelle looked on in silence.
'Because I know you went to that house. I know you saw that room.'
'Oh, you mean at Atlee? The place that burned to the ground right after you left there? The same fire that killed Ruth Ann?'
'I was deeply sorry to hear about that.'
'You met Ruth Ann, didn't you?'
'Briefly, yes. She seemed like a nice woman. I'm glad we were able to help you two gain temporary custody of her son.'
'What, you couldn't think of another way of getting rid of the evidence? Other than burning the house down and killing the woman?'
Jane looked at him with an impassive expression. 'I have no idea what you're talking about. When I left the house it was perfectly fine and so was she. You can ask anyone who was with me. And you are growing dangerously close to something you shouldn't go near, Sean.'
'Now, is that a threat? Because even threats against nobodies like me are actionable.'
'Would you like to hear my offer?'
'Why not? We came all this way.'
'What's happened is regrettable. All around. Without going into detail I will tell you that all of this has been difficult, complicated. For both me and the president.'
'Yeah, good thing it was so simple for the Quarry family. They just had a lifetime of misery because of what your husband did.'
She ignored this interruption. 'For the good of the country I am asking that you not raise any issues that might embarrass the president. He's a fine man. He's served his country with distinction. He's been a wonderful father.'
'And why should we look the other way?'
'In return, I can assure you that no action will be taken against you for breaking into my brother's office and stealing his files. His confidential files, some of which I understand had to do with classified national security issues. This is a very serious matter indeed.'
'I was working a case. On your behalf.'
'That of course would be up to a court to decide. But I never told you to break the law. In addition, I've done a little digging on my own, and it's come to my attention that you also threatened Cassandra Mallory, allegedly blackmailing her. I believe that Ms. Mallory will also allege that you made improper sexual advances to her in her home to which you gained entry under false pretenses while she was in a state of undress.'
'Little Miss Cassandra doesn't scare me at all, Jane.'
'I also discovered that Aaron Betack apparently broke into my office and took something from my desk. And I think the facts will show that he did so at your behest. Not only will Agent Betack's career at the Secret Service be over but the three of you could go to prison.'
'If you can prove it, go for it. But getting back to the list of your wonderful husband's accomplishments, I think you left one out.'
'Which one?' she said coldly.
'Being an adulterer? That one get lost off your little checklist somehow?'
'And how about being a rapist?' said Michelle.
Jane rose. 'You have no proof of anything. So I strongly suggest that you keep such ludicrous accusations to yourself unless you want to find yourselves in very serious trouble. He is the president of the United States. Show some damn respect.'
'Respect for what?'
'I don't care what lies you might have seen on those walls in that house, you have no right-'
Sean cut her off. 'What we saw on those walls was the truth. You knew it too, and that's why you burned the place down. And we have every right, lady.'
'First Lady,' she said.
Sean rose too. 'When did you stop caring about the truth, Jane? When did it stop mattering to you? After the first cover-up? The second? Did you just convince yourself that it was always somebody else's fault? Or that he'd come around one day, take some pills, and it would all be better? The past, the hurt, just wiped clean? That a guy like Sam Quarry would just walk away, let it go? Like everybody else had? Because your husband was such a rising star? Because he'd make such a great president?'
'You can't know what it's like to be here, in this house. To always having to be on. To never once letting your guard down. Knowing that the smallest mistake you make will be broadcast all over the world.'
'Hey, nobody twisted his arm. Or yours.'
'I've worked too damn hard-' She broke off and dabbed her eyes with a cloth.
Sean stared at her. 'I really thought I knew you. I thought I respected you. I thought you were real. It was all bullshit, wasn't it? All smoke and mirrors. Just like this town. Nothing behind the curtain.'
'I think it's time for you to leave my house.'
Michelle stood next to Sean.
He said, 'Fine. But just remember one thing, Jane. It's not your house. It belongs to the American people. You and the hubby are just renting.'
CHAPTER 87
THE NEWSPAPER BUSINESS sucks, doesn't it, Marty?' said Sean loudly. 'Nobody wants to wait for the paper anymore. They can get it all online all the time. Even if it's all made up.'
It was midnight. He and Michelle were standing next to a support column in an underground parking garage in downtown Washington. The man walking toward them stopped and then chuckled as Sean and Michelle stepped out into the wash of light from the overheads.
Sean shook hands with Martin Determann and introduced Michelle to him.
'What business doesn't suck right now?' said Determann, who was short, with thick, graying black hair and a loud voice. Sharp eyes danced behind slender glasses. 'And asking people to take the time to read and actually think about stuff? Heaven forbid.'
Sean grinned. 'Nobody likes a whiner, Marty.'
'So why all the clandestine stuff?' He looked around at the empty garage. 'I feel like I'm in a scene from All the President's Men.'
'Think your own Deep Throat will help you sell a few more papers?'
Determann laughed. 'I'd prefer a Pulitzer but I also keep an open mind. Hey, maybe I can ghostwrite your
