Choking, Diane took a deep breath to clear her lungs. It didn’t work; her senses quickly leaving her, she slumped in his arms. They put her in the back of a rental van parked nearby and drove off.
CHAPTER 4
THE LAW ENFORCEMENT ARMY was here in full, splendid force. Sean and Michelle watched from one corner of the pine needle–strewn yard as cops, techs, and suits swarmed over the stricken Dutton home like ants on a carcass. In certain important respects that analogy was exact.
The ambulances had come and taken the living members of the Dutton family to the hospital. Mrs. Dutton was still inside enduring the swarm. The only doctor she would be seeing later was one who would cut her up even more than she was already.
Sean and Michelle had been questioned three times by uniforms and then tie-and-jacket homicide detectives. They methodically gave detailed answers and notebooks were filled up with their descriptions of the night’s horrific events.
Michelle’s attention turned to two black sedans skidding into the driveway. When the men and women popped out she said to Sean, “Why’s the FBI here?”
“Didn’t I mention? Tuck Dutton is the First Lady’s brother.”
“The First Lady? As in Jane Cox, wife of President Cox?”
Sean just gave her a look.
“So that means her sister-in-law was murdered and her niece was kidnapped?”
“You’ll probably see the news trucks pull up any minute,” he said. “And the answer would be, ‘No comment.’”
“So Pam Dutton wanted to hire us. Any idea why?”
“No.”
They both watched as the Fibbies talked to the local detectives and then marched inside the house. Ten minutes later they came back out and headed toward Sean and Michelle.
She said, “They don’t look too happy about us being here.”
They weren’t. It was clear after the first three minutes that the FBI agents were having a hard time believing that the two had been summoned by Pam Dutton but didn’t know why.
Sean said for the fourth time, “Like I said, I’m a friend of the family. She called me and said she wanted to meet. I have no idea why. That’s why we were coming tonight. To find out.”
“At this hour?”
“She set the time.”
“If you’re so close to them maybe you have an idea who could have done this,” one of them said. He was a medium-sized guy with a thin face, buffed shoulders, and an apparently permanent sour expression that made Michelle think he was either plagued by ulcers or had jumpy intestines.
“If I had any idea I would’ve told the county suits when they asked me. Any sign of the truck? My partner here put a round through the windshield.”
“And why does your partner carry a gun?” Sour Face asked.
Sean slowly reached in his pocket and pulled out his ID. Michelle did the same along with her concealed weapons permit.
“Private detectives?” Sour Face managed to make it sound like “child molester” before handing the IDs back.
“And former Secret Service,” Michelle said. “Both of us.”
“Good for you,” Sour Face snapped. He nodded at the house. “In fact, the Secret Service might take some heat for this one.”
“Why?” Sean asked. “Siblings of the First Family don’t qualify for protection unless there’s been a specific threat. They can’t guard everybody.”
“Don’t you get it? It’s perception. Mom slaughtered, kid snatched. It won’t play well in the papers. Particularly after the Camp David party today. First Family goes safely home. Last Family gets run over by a freaking tank. Not a great headline.”
“What party at Camp David?” Michelle wanted to know.
“I’m asking the questions,” he shot back.