The First Lady - James Patterson Page 0,35

gotten this far and made so much money by ever trusting men.

Parker Hoyt has a few minutes to spare before the first of the congressional staffers arrives, and he stares at his special phone on his desk. This is going longer and darker than he had anticipated. The First Lady … all right, he figured she’d be one angry wife, that was to be expected.

But this?

Disappeared?

And what he has learned from Agent Grissom … some sort of note and the woman’s panic button, untriggered.

Not good.

So what now?

He wants this settled, nailed down, completed … so he can focus on what’s really important—getting that talented man in the office next door reelected.

Parker picks up the phone, dials the second number, the one he hadn’t wanted to touch earlier.

But that was then.

No more time.

The phone rings.

Rings.

Rings.

It’s answered, and from the ambient noise, Parker knows the person on the other end is outside.

“Yes?” comes the quick, impatient reply.

“It’s Hoyt,” he says.

“Can’t talk.”

“I know you’re busy … but …”

“Make it quick.”

Parker says, “I need to know exactly what Grissom is doing, what she’s thinking, what she’s planning, second by second.”

“She’s planning right now to go home to her kid.”

“But—”

The voice says, “I know our deal. I know what you’ve promised. But don’t ever call me again. I’ll be the one making the contact.”

The phone is disconnected.

Parker hangs up on his end, leans back in his chair. It’s now dark, the lights of DC visible.

That call … just checking on his insurance policy.

Someone connected out there, working for him.

Highly illegal, highly unethical, and in the end—considering how much he’s been paid—highly effective.

And that’s all he cares about.

CHAPTER 28

PAMELA SMITHSON QUICKLY and efficiently gets me back home, to an apartment complex in Springfield, Virginia, which is closer than going back to the White House, where my personal vehicle is located. I use my cell phone to arrange a Secret Service driver to pick me up overnight if need be.

Pamela pulls into the parking lot and leaves the engine running. I say, “You call me the second you find anything.”

“You know it,” she says.

“If it weren’t for my daughter, I’d still be at the river.”

“We know that, and Sally, no offense, I want to get back there as soon as possible …”

I put my hand on the door handle. “Okay. Pamela, where is she?”

Pamela looks rattled, which is what I’m going for. Good.

“Sally, I—”

“Back at the farm, just before we started the search, Tanya said something about the farm being one of the two places where she feels most comfortable.”

No reply.

“So where’s the second place?”

“I … I don’t know. None of us know.”

I go on. “I also asked you that besides being tossed by the horse, did you think she had run off. Or was hiding. You just said no and instantly changed the subject.”

Still no reply.

“Who is he?” I ask.

She turns and looks around the parking lot. “Pamela! Who is he?”

Pamela’s face is still turned away from me. “I don’t know.”

“How long has she been with him?”

“I … not sure. A few months at least. I’ve heard her talking to him. Three or four times. They communicate only by phone, best I can tell.”

“Hers?”

Pamela says, “No, a burner phone.”

“How in hell did the First Lady of the United States get a burner phone?”

She turns to me, and under the lights from the parking lot, I see her eyes filling up. “How do you think? She makes a request to a staffer, the staffer makes a request to a low-level staffer, and passes it on to an intern. The intern pays cash for a debit card, buys the phone anonymously, sets up a fake Gmail account to activate it, and then it’s handed back up to the First Lady. Nearly impossible to trace.”

“Who is he?”

“I don’t know.”

“Pamela …”

She wipes at one eye, then the other. “It’s … a man. That’s all I know. I’ve overheard her talking to him a few times over the past months … and once … I heard her say, ‘I love you so much.’”

I take a breath, feel like punching her in the face. “Pamela, your career went down in flames this morning when you and the others lost your protectee. Now … in the next fifteen seconds, however you answer me will determine whether you’re allowed to quietly resign or whether you’re going to appear in court as a defendant.”

She just nods. I say, “Do you have any idea, lead, or hint of who this man is and where he can