“This is nuts.”
“Maybe so, but there it is. Prove he’s not Teddy. Prove he’s Barney Cox or anybody else. We have to know.”
Pepper sighed. “This might be fun, if it weren’t so crazy.”
“I hope you enjoy the experience.”
“Is that why you’re on St. Marks? To track down the maybe mythical Teddy Fay?”
“Yes.”
“Did Lance offer any suggestion as to how I am to proceed?”
“His view is that you’re here, on the ground, you have resources, and you know best how to use them.”
“Great, and what are you going to do?”
“Don’t go near Robertson; those are my instructions.”
“And who do I report my findings to?”
“Me. I’ll report to Lance.”
“This is very weird.”
“I can’t deny that.”
“You were sent here to find Teddy, but you’ve been told not to pursue your primary suspect? Or is he your primary suspect? Is there anybody else?”
“What do you think of Pemberton or Weatherby as suspects?”
“Jesus, I don’t know; I wasn’t looking for Teddy Fay when I checked them out.”
“How did they check out?”
“Okay; they had the usual paper trail; as far as I can tell, they’re who they say they are.”
“Have you ever seen either of them?”
“No; they’re snowbirds; they don’t spend all their time here.”
“Are they worth my pursuing them as suspects?”
“Well, apparently, you don’t have anything else to do.”
“Tell me what else you know about them.”
“Nothing-a criminal record, use of a false identity-has come up.”
“Please let me know if you hear anything else.”
“I’ll get back to you.”
“Bye.” Holly hung up, still pissed off that she wasn’t being allowed to investigate Robertson.
27
Kate Lee arrived back at the White House, shed her Secret Service detail and went up to the family quarters. Her husband was sitting in front of the big flatscreen TV he had had installed, watching Katie Couric deliver the news. A commercial came on.