David Baldacci - First Family

Quarry had no problem with punishment, so long as it was dealt out fairly, evenly. Only it never was.

He left the room and ventured to the nurses' station. He had to make some arrangements. It was time for Tippi to finally leave this place.

It was time to bring his little girl home.

LOOK, KING, we have orders to keep them all here," said the agent to Sean and Michelle.

They were at the entrance to Blair House. The decision had been made to allow Tuck and his kids to remain at the residence where they would have the full protection of the Secret Service, at least temporarily.

"All I'm asking you to do is to let Tuck Dutton know that we're out here. If he wants to see us, there's really nothing you can do about it, is there? He's not a criminal. He's not in protective custody. He's here voluntarily. And if wants to leave, you have to let him leave."

Michelle added, "We'll keep a close eye on him."

"Right, and it's my ass on the line to the president if anything happens to his brother-in-law."

"I'd actually be more afraid of the First Lady," advised Sean.

"I'm not going to get Dutton. Now I suggest that-"

"Sean?"

They all looked up at the front door. Tuck was standing there holding Colleen in one arm and a cup of coffee in the other.

"Mr. Dutton, please get away from the door," warned the agent.

Tuck put Colleen down and told her to go join her brother. Then he set down the coffee cup and came outside.

"Mr. Dutton!" The agent took a step toward him as two other agents moved forward from their outside posts.

Tuck held up his hand. "I know, I know. You're here to protect me. But why don't you go protect my kids? I'll be fine."

"Mr. Dutton," the agent began again.

"Look, buddy. I'm only here because my sister said it was okay. Great, I appreciate it. But the fact is this is America and I can leave here with my kids any damn time I want, and there's not a damn thing you can do about it. So go hang out with my kids or go smoke a cigarette while I talk to these folks. Okay?"

"I'll have to let the First Lady know about this," the agent snapped.

"You do that. And she might be the First Lady to you, but to me she's just the older sister whose panties I used to let my friends see for a buck a peek."

The agent's face flushed. He glanced angrily at Sean and Michelle, then turned on his heel and went inside the house.

"Tuck, that's a side of you I've never seen," said Sean as they walked down the street across from the White House.

Tuck flicked a cigarette out of a pack, cupped his hands, and lit up. He exhaled a small cloud of smoke. "It gets to you, you know? I don't know how Jane and Dan do it. Talk about a freaking fishbowl. It's actually more like living your life under the damn Hubble Telescope."

"Every flaw revealed," said Michelle, as her gaze swept, like radar, grid by grid, in front, to the side, and also behind them. They might be in one of the safest spots on earth, but, as she well knew, that could change in a single explosive moment.

"How are the kids?"

"Scared, nervous, anxious, depressed. They know Pam's gone, of course. And that's devastating enough. But not knowing what's happened to Willa. It's just too much. It's killing all of us. I haven't slept a wink since they took me off the drugs in the hospital. I don't even know how I'm functioning."

Michelle eyed the cigarette. "They've only got one parent left now, Tuck. Do yourself and them a favor and cut out the cancer sticks."

Tuck dropped the smoke on the pavement and crushed it with the heel of his shoe. "What did you guys want with me?"

"One thing."

Tuck put up his hands. "Look, if this is that crap about Willa being adopted."

"No, it's actually about the guy you saw Pam with."

"Did you talk to him? Who is he?"

"He's a Secret Service agent. A pretty high-ranking one," said Michelle.

"His name is Aaron Betack. And he basically says you were wrong in identifying him as the guy you saw with Pam."

"Then he's full of shit. I was staring at him through a clear glass window. No more than ten feet. It was him! I'd swear on a stack of Bibles."

"We believe you, Tuck," said Michelle.

"And there might be an easier way than the Bible thing," added Sean.

"What do you mean?"

Sean pointed across the street. "He's over there right now. We saw him go in. That's why we're here."

"Betack?"

"Yep," said Sean.

"So what do you want me to do?"

"We want you to call your sister and ask to see her with us. When we get in there we want her to call Betack in and we'll confront him with what we know. Then if he wants to lie to her face, let him."

Tuck suddenly didn't seem so sure of himself. "I'm sure she's pretty busy right now."

Michelle took hold of his arm. "Tuck, you just buried your wife. Your oldest child has been kidnapped. I don't think you should be worried right now about your sister being busy."

Sean eyed him intently. "What's it going to be?"

Tuck pulled out his cell phone. "Five minutes?"

"Works for us," answered Sean.

SEAN KING, who'd worked presidential protection detail when he was in the Secret Service, had been allowed in the top security clearance-required White House Situation Room when guarding the president. Yet he had never seen the private quarters of the First Family. That omission had now been corrected. After riding the elevator up and being let out of the small cage by a genuine elevator operator, he and Michelle looked around at the room they were in. It had luxurious furnishings, heavy moldings, and beautiful flower displays. Then his attention returned to the woman who was sitting on the couch across from him, a cup of hot tea in hand. A warming fire crackled in the fireplace. Across the street, protestors could be heard chanting about something in Lafayette Park.

Jane obviously heard this too. "You'd think they would have held off, with everything that's happened."

"It's done by permit," said Michelle. "They have to take their shot when they get it."

"Of course."

She looks tired, Sean thought. And it obviously wasn't just the campaign. The tiny lines on the First Lady's face were more pronounced, the pouches under the eyes thicker, the hair not as meticulous as usual. She also seemed to have lost weight. The clothes she wore hung more loosely.

Michelle's gaze was on Tuck. Jane Cox's brother sat next to his sister, shooting nervous glances around the room. He held a mixed drink that had been brought to him by one of the White House attendants. He gripped it so tightly his fingers were white. The guy probably wanted to light up, but the White House was a no-smoking zone, much to the chagrin of many stressed-out folks who labored there.

"How are John and Colleen doing?" Jane asked.

"Not great."

"We can have them stay here, Tuck."

"It wouldn't matter, sis. It's not the place."

"I know."

Tuck looked around the spacious room. "And this house doesn't really seem geared for kids."

"You'd be surprised," said Jane. "Remember Dan Jr. had a birthday party in the State Dining Room when he turned sixteen. And lots of small children have lived here. Teddy Roosevelt's family. JFK's."

"It's okay, sis, really."

She glanced at Sean. "Thank you for making it to the funeral."

"I told you we'd be there."

"We left things in an awkward way the last time we talked."

"I thought I was pretty clear, actually."

Her mouth set into a frown. "I'm trying to handle this as professionally as possible, Sean."

He sat forward as Michelle and Tuck watched him nervously.

"And we're trying to find Willa. I don't really care whether we accomplish that professionally or not so long as we get her back. I hope you don't have a problem with that." He glanced at Tuck. "Either of you."