He held out his ID to one of the wall of Secret Service agents stationed in the hallway. Because the First Lady was here they took extra time frisking and wanding him and then ushered him into the room. Tuck sat in a chair next to the bed. Jane Cox stood next to him, her hand supportively on her brother’s shoulder.
Two agents parked themselves against a wall until Jane said, “Please wait outside.” One burly agent gave Sean a piercing look as he and his partner edged to the door. “We’ll be right outside, ma’am.” He closed the door behind him. Sean turned to face the sister and brother.
“Thank you for coming,” Jane said.
“You made it sound like it was important. I hope it is.”
His brusque manner seemed to catch the woman off-guard. Before she could respond, Sean turned his attention to Tuck. “You look like you’re feeling better. The mother of all concussions healing nicely?”
“It still hurts like hell,” said Tuck defensively.
Sean pulled up a chair and sat down across from the pair.
“I just got smacked out of left field by a TV reporter on a witch hunt.” He glanced at Jane. “Know anything about that?”
“Of course not, how could I?”
“I don’t know.” He settled his gaze back on Tuck. “Okay, Tuck, time is of the essence so why beat around the bush? Cassandra Mallory?”
“What about her?”
“Who is she to you?”
“She’s an employee of my company.”
“That’s all?”
“Of course it is.”
“That’s not what your partner thinks.”
“Then he’s wrong.”
Sean rose and peered out the window. Down below was the motorcade waiting for the First Lady to finish her visit. Life in the bubble. Sean knew it well. Every move treated to the closest scrutiny, sucking the breath right out of you. And yet some spent hundreds of millions of bucks and devoted years of their life to getting to that bubble. Was that insanity, narcissism, or elements of both hidden under the excuse of public service?
He turned back to them, thinking rapidly. If he admitted he knew that the password to Tuck’s computer was Cassandra, he’d be confessing his own guilt in hacking into the guy’s database. Instead he said, “You willing to take a polygraph on that?”
Tuck started to say something, but Sean saw the First Lady’s fingers tighten on his shoulder and no words came out.
“Sean,” she began, “why are you doing this?”
“You asked me to investigate this case. That’s what I’m doing. I can’t help where it might lead, even to places you don’t want it to go. You told me to go for it while sitting in the White House. I’m sure you remember. It wasn’t that long ago. I believe the exact phrase was, ‘Let the chips fall.’”
“I also recall that I asked you to find Willa.”
“Well, I can’t very well do that if I don’t find out who took her and why. And killed Pam in the process.” He glared at Tuck when he said this last part.
“I had nothing to do with this,” Tuck snapped.
“Then you won’t mind taking a polygraph.”
“You can’t make me take one,” he shot back.
“No, but if I go to the FBI and tell them what I’ve found out, they’ll start looking in places you don’t want them to look. If you pass the polygraph, I won’t do that. That’s the deal.”
Jane said calmly, “So you talked to his partner, David Hilal?”
“I didn’t think you were that familiar with your brother’s work.”