David Baldacci - First Family

"You probably don't want to hear this, but it was Sam Quarry who went back in that mine and really saved Willa. If he hadn't done that, she wouldn't be here."

Tuck's face reddened. "Yeah, well, if the asshole hadn't done any of this, Willa would never have been in that mine and Pam would still be here too."

"You're right. Have you talked to your sister much?"

Tuck scowled. "Not too much. Dan wanted to take Willa on a little tour with him on the campaign. But-"

"But you thought it seemed a little too exploitative?" said Michelle.

"Something like that, yeah."

"The kids really need you now, Tuck. So you might want to let your partner David Hilal run the show for a while." He paused. "Just stay away from his wife."

Before a surprised Tuck could say anything, Sean put a hand on the man's shoulder and added, "And if you go anywhere near Cassandra Mallory, I'll cut it right out of your pants, you son of a bitch."

Tuck chuckled briefly before realizing that Sean was deadly serious.

As they were walking to their car later, Willa rushed outside and ran up to them. She handed them three envelopes.

"What's this for?" asked Michelle.

"Thank-you letters, for all you did for me."

"Honey, you didn't have to do that."

"My mom said you always write thank-you letters, and besides, I wanted to."

Gabriel held on to his envelope like it was the most precious thing he'd ever been given. "That was really nice, Willa. Thank you."

She looked up at them, her eyes so large they seemed to envelop her entire face. "I hate Mr. Sam for what he did to my mom."

Gabriel immediately looked down and stepped back.

Michelle said, "I know, sweetie. I don't think he meant for her to get hurt, but it was still his fault."

"But right before he let me go he told me that if you ever love you have to be prepared to hate too. I guess he meant if someone hurts somebody you love you're going to hate them. It's just natural."

"I guess so," said Sean a little uneasily, unsure of where this was going.

"I think Mr. Sam loved his daughter."

"I think he did too," Michelle said softly, rubbing at her left eye.

"He did," said Gabriel. "No thinking about it."

"And because someone hurt her, he hated them."

"That's probably right," said Sean.

"But then he said you always have to let the hate go. Otherwise it'll just tear you up inside. And it won't let any love back in." She looked at Gabriel when she said this. The two children held this gaze for several long moments.

"I think Mr. Sam was right, Willa. For both of us." A tear plunked down on Gabriel's new shirt, while tears slid down Willa's cheeks.

Michelle turned away while Sean took several quick breaths as Willa looked up at them with her wide, sad eyes.

"So I'm not going to hate him anymore."

Now Michelle let out a sob and took a step back, trying to hide behind Sean, whose eyes were tearing up.

"Okay, Willa," said Sean in a hoarse voice. "That's probably a good idea."

She gave all three a hug and then ran back inside.

Sean, Michelle, and Gabriel just stood there for a while. Finally, Gabriel said, "She's a good friend to have."

"Yes she is," said Michelle. "Yes she is." On Election Day, Dan Cox, bolstered by his heroism and the dramatic return of his beloved niece, won a second term to the White House by one of the largest margins of victory ever seen in American presidential elections.

Two months after the inauguration, Martin Determann, who had worked day and night on nothing other than the story of a lifetime, published a nine-page exclusive in the Washington Post. Determann had wisely piggybacked on all the years-long work that Sam Quarry had done, but had brought to it a professional investigative journalist's eye and, more importantly, solid proofs. His story was backed up by facts and sources so meticulously cultivated and catalogued that every media outlet in the world immediately picked up on the story and did their own investigations, uncovering even more well-hidden secrets from Dan Cox's past.

And Determann was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize.

The results of all this created a groundswell of fury across the nation against Dan and Jane Cox. So much so that on a gloomy day in April a disgraced and humbled Dan Cox addressed his fellow Americans from the Oval Office and announced that he would resign the presidency of the United States at noon the following day.

And he did.

A MONTH AFTER COX'S resignation Sean and Michelle once more visited Atlee.

Tippi Quarry had been buried beside her mother in the graveyard of a nearby church. Based on evidence that Sean and Michelle had given as to the time of Sam Quarry's death, his estate had passed to Ruth Ann Macon under the terms of the will that Sean had found in the basement, since Quarry's death had preceded hers, if only by an hour or so.

And that meant that Gabriel, as her only living descendant, inherited Sam Quarry's property. Sean was working on the legal part of all this with a lawyer licensed in Alabama. They were planning to sell the two hundred acres to a real estate developer who was willing to pay a price high enough that Gabriel would have no problem paying for college and with quite a bit left over.

After they finished meeting with the lawyer and representatives of the developer they were walking back to their rental car when a voice reached them.

"Hello?"

They turned to see a man with brown skin, shoulder-length white hair, a wide-brimmed straw hat, and a heavily wrinkled face. He was standing by where the porch to the house had once been.

"Hello, back," said Sean. They walked over.

"Are you Fred?" said Michelle.

Fred nodded as he moved toward them.

"I'm Michelle, this is my partner, Sean."

They shook hands and then surveyed where the plantation had once stood.

"Did you know Sam?" asked Fred.

"A little. I suppose you did?"

"Good man. Let me live on his land. Brought me smokes and the Jim Beam. I'm going to miss him. I'm going to miss them all. I guess I'm the only one left now that Gabriel isn't living here anymore. I had two indigenous staying with me, but they moved on."

"Koasati?" she asked.

"The lost people, yes. How did you know?"

"Lucky guess."

"I hear the property is being sold. Are you involved in that? I saw you meeting with some folks."

"That's right. But Gabriel told us about you and we've made provision that you and your Airstream will still have a place here."

Fred smiled grimly. "I doubt that'll matter."

"Why?"

He coughed deeply. "Doctor says I've only got a few more months left. Lung thing."

"I'm sorry," Sean said.

"Don't be. I'm old. I'm supposed to die." He put a small hand on Michelle's sleeve. "Would you like to come back to my trailer for a beer? It's close by here. And my Airstream has never seen anyone as beautiful as this young lady."

Michelle smiled. "How can a girl refuse an offer like that?"

They sat inside his little trailer and drank a bottle of beer each and Fred regaled them with stories about Sam and Gabriel and life at Atlee.

"You know, I could always tell that Sam was unhappy. He tried not to show it, but he was an unhappy man."

Sean took a swig of beer and nodded. "I think you're right there."

"Sam had great respect for our culture. Asked me lots of questions about it. Our symbols and rituals."

Sean sat up. "Fred, I saw a mark on Sam's arm one time." On the layer of dust on a rickety table in the trailer, Sean drew it out and spoke as he did so. "Four lines. A long one intersected by two perpendicular ones at each end, with a short one in the middle."

Fred was already nodding before he finished. "I told him about that. You see, in Native American culture that is the mark of spiritual protection. It's not Koasati, but another tribal language. Not sure which one. Anyway, the left line means winyan, or woman. The right mark stands for wicasa, or man. The long center line stands for the wakanyeza, or innocent children."