He had pushed right past her, gone to his bedroom, and closed the door. When Michelle had tried the door, it was locked.
“Dad?” she’d called through the door. “Dad!” She started beating on it, until a hand grabbed her. It was Sean.
“Just let him be for now.”
“But—”
“There’s something going on here that we don’t understand, so let’s not push it for now.”
Sean had slept on the couch and Michelle in one of the spare bedrooms. Her brothers were staying at Bobby’s house nearby.
When they woke the next morning to catch their flight, Frank Maxwell was already dressed and gone. This time Michelle didn’t even try to call his cell.
“He won’t answer it,” she said over a cup of coffee at the airport.
“What do you think he was doing at the farmhouse?”
“Maybe the same reason I was there.”
“Meaning what exactly?”
“Meaning I don’t know exactly,” she said miserably.
“Do you want to stay here? I can pop up for the funeral.”
“No, I don’t think there’s anything I can do down here right now. And going to another funeral won’t be nearly as depressing as staying here and watching my family finish disintegrating.”
The service for Pam Dutton was over now and people were filtering away, though Sean did notice that many folks did their best to finagle a handshake with the president. And to his credit he accommodated them as best he could.
“Can’t chance ticking off a potential voter,” Michelle said sarcastically.
Jane walked out with her brother and the kids. Several agents flanked them, but the bulk stayed with the president. As he watched this scene, Sean well knew that that one life trumped all others. The First Lady was a vitally important protectee in the world of the Service, but her ranking was so far below the president’s that if a choice had to be made as to whom to save, it would not be a difficult decision.
Michelle apparently read his thoughts because she said, “Did you ever wonder what’d you do?”
He turned to her. “What’d I do about what?”
“If you had to choose between the First Couple? Which one to save?”
“Michelle, you know if there’s one rule the Service bangs into your brain it’s that one. The president’s the one life you can not let end.”
“But let’s say he’s committing a crime. Or what if the guy goes nuts and is attacking the First Lady. He’s getting ready to kill her. What would you do? Take him out or let her die?”
“Why are we having this conversation? Isn’t the fact that we’re at a funeral depressing enough?”
“Just wondering.”
“Good, you wonder. I’ll stay out of it.”
“It’s just a hypothetical.”
“I have enough trouble dealing with reality.”
“Are we going to see the First Lady?”
“After my last phone call with her, I’m not sure. I’m not even sure if we’re on the same side as her anymore.”
“What do you mean by that?”