He slid a newspaper across to her. “Did you see the story?”
“Read it online already. Got most of the facts right. You seemed appropriately thoughtful in the photo.”
“It’s a file shot they pulled from my Secret Service days.”
“I thought you looked remarkably youthful.”
“Had a bunch of reporters calling. I kept hanging up.”
“They’re not just calling. They’re parked out in front of our office. I came in through the back. I think someone spotted me, so that exit’s probably covered now too.”
“Great. So we’re trapped in here.”
He stood and paced, his long feet kicking out angrily.
“You want to talk about it now?” she asked.
He stopped, flicked a piece of carpet fuzz with his loafer. “It’s a tough situation,” he answered.
“Which part? Finding a woman cut up and a kid gone? Or something going on inside your head?”
He just started pacing again, his chin tucked to his chest.
“You said you knew the First Lady. How? You were long gone from the Service before Cox was elected. Come on, fess up.”
He was about to say something when the phone rang. Sean turned away, but Michelle snatched it up. “King and Maxwell. We snoop so you don’t have to.” She stopped dead. “What! I… Oh, yeah, sure. Here he is.”
She held the phone out.
“I don’t want to talk to anybody.”
“You will to this person.”
“Who is it?”
“Jane Cox,” she whispered.
Sean cupped the phone against his ear. “Mrs. Cox?” He listened and, giving a quick, embarrassed glance at Michelle, said, “Okay, Jane.”
Michelle did an eyebrow hike and watched her partner closely.
“I know. It’s truly a tragedy. Willa, yes, of course. Right. That’s right. You understood correctly. Have you spoken to Tuck? I see. Of course, I understand that. What?” He checked his watch. “Certainly, we can make that.” He glanced at Michelle. “She’s my partner. We do work together, but if you’d rather… Thank you.”
He hung up and looked at Michelle.
She snapped, “If you clam up and start pacing again I swear to God I’m going to pistol-whip you. What did she say?”
“She wants us to come by to see her.”
“See her? Where?”
“At the White House.”
“Why? What does she want us for? To tell her what we saw the other night?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then what exactly?”