The First Lady - James Patterson Page 0,28
… which is pretty much crap, Marsha thinks.
Now the young man is knee-deep in the water, shouting and holding something up.
The truth is, for her at least, that she loves it. Loves the viewing, the hunting, the anticipation, and most of all, the killing.
She loves it more than life itself.
Marsha shifts the sniper scope once more to the young man. He’s holding up … what?
A piece of jewelry.
That’s it.
A gold necklace with some sort of brooch dangling from one end.
Belonging to the First Lady?
Perhaps.
Marsha settles in, sighs.
Times like these, she wishes she had spent just a bit more time learning something other than the best way to kill someone.
Like lip reading, so she’d know why these four Secret Service agents are so excited.
CHAPTER 23
TAMMY DOYLE DROPS her purse on the near couch. “You’re smoking.”
“Very observant,” her boss says, gently tapping another length of ash into her aunt’s priceless teacup.
“You shouldn’t be smoking in here, Amanda.”
Amanda Price shrugs. “I didn’t see a sign. I needed a smoke. There you go.” She leans forward and says, “You’ve got a hell of a bruise on your cheek. What happened?”
A wave of exhaustion and the need to bawl comes over her, and Tammy struggles to push it back. Besides still being freaked out over what just happened, she’s sweaty, her clothes are a mess, and she just wants to be left alone.
“Car accident,” she says. “My taxi … a pickup truck hit the trunk … could have killed us if it was just a few feet in the other direction.”
Amanda shakes her head. “Interstate Sixty-six … what a horror show that can be. Are you okay?”
“Just … shook up.” She touches the tender side of her face. “Why are you here, Amanda?”
Amanda takes a deep drag from her cigarette. “How long has it been going on?”
“Put the cigarette out.”
“Tammy, you—”
“The cigarette goes out or I keep my mouth shut.” The side of her face is really throbbing and she wants to take a couple of painkillers now, but Tammy’s not in the mood for showing any weakness in front of Amanda.
A few seconds pass as her tougher-than-titanium boss locks eyes with her, and Tammy stares right back. Then Amanda widens her sharp smile, stubs out the cigarette in the teacup, and puts the cup down on a coffee table. “Sharp lady,” she says. “I’ve always liked your style.”
“You want to talk style, or you want to tell me why you’re here?”
Amanda says, “You and the President. Tell me what’s going on.”
“None of your business,” Tammy says.
“None of my business? Ha.” Amanda crosses and recrosses her long legs. “Tammy, m’dear, anything and everything you do, on the clock and off the clock, reflects on Pearson, Pearson, and Price. Clear? If you were pulled over for drunk driving, well, that’s a manageable problem. But you’ve been caught banging the leader of the free world. We need to talk, or you’re going to be unemployed and no lobbying firm in the Western world will hire you. Unless we have … a satisfactory conversation.”
Tammy waits and the hard look from her boss returns, and Tammy knows she won’t win this staring contest.
“We’ve been together about eight months, since a fund-raiser in Denver,” she says, feeling like she’s surrendering to the older woman. Her boss nods in satisfaction, knowing she’s won this one.
“You in love with him?”
Something thuds in her chest. “God, yes.”
“Is he in love with you?”
“Yes.”
“He make promises?”
“I—”
“Tammy, what the hell did the President say to you?”
“He …” Damn it, tears are starting to pool in her tired eyes. “Yes, he promised me that after the election, after the inauguration, he would separate from his wife, and that … eventually … he’d introduce me to the American people … and bring me publicly into his life. That we would get married during his second term.”
Amanda chuckles, a dry, scary sound. “Leaving the First Lady and marrying you later? That damn ship has sailed and is now circling the Cape of Good Hope, on its way to the Pacific. Nope, those plans have been blown out of the water.”
More silence, except Tammy can now make out the low buzz of the news media talking among themselves, out on the street. Amanda says, “Expect rough times ahead. He’ll probably dump you publicly, to save his bacon.”
She says the words without thinking. “No, he won’t.”
Amanda looks like she is going to laugh again, but doesn’t. “Perhaps … I could be wrong. It’s been known to happen.”
Tammy says, “I’ve answered your