First Family (Sean King & Michelle Maxwell 4)

Michelle started to protest but Sean said, “Right, sorry.” He gripped Tuck’s arm. “You just focus on getting well. John and Colleen really need you, okay?”

Tuck gave a quick nod and sank back on the bed.

A few minutes later Sean and Michelle were climbing in her SUV.

“Got one question,” said Michelle.

“Just one? I’m impressed.”

“Why was Tuck out of town at a meeting on the day of his daughter’s birthday at Camp David? I mean, the polish meeting in Jacksonville couldn’t wait? Or you couldn’t do it by video conference? And was it just me or did he really seem to want to know if the president could pay a ransom from the U.S. Treasury?”

“He jumped on the cult thing a little too quickly too. That’s why I didn’t ask him about Pam wanting to meet with us, because it could be she wanted to meet with us about Tuck.”

“So you suspect him?”

“I suspect everybody. That’s why I didn’t mention it to Jane Cox either.”

“I liked your tactic in nailing down that he drove straight home. But do you think this really was just a random thing?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Then do you think this is really tied to the First Family?”

“I did until Tuck said it.”

“Said what?”

“That he was working on a big biodefense project for the government.”

CHAPTER 14

LATER THAT EVENING they drove near the Duttons’ home but didn’t pull down the road they lived on because it was closed off to traffic by portable blockades. In front of the barriers police cruisers and FBI SUVs sat slant-parked. Behind the temporary walls, the road was still clogged with police and forensics vans.

Beyond the barrier zone they could see eager journalists running around with fat microphones clutched in hand, while their videographers trotted behind. News vans with electronic masts raised to the heavens were parked up and down the road. Gawkers were out in force as well, trying to get a peek of what was going on and becoming fodder for the reporters who had little else to do but seek out inane comments since the authorities weren’t talking.

“Okay, so much for tripping through the forensics evidence,” said Michelle.

Sean wasn’t listening. He was staring down at the piece of paper on which he’d written the letters found on Pam Dutton’s arms. He was trying to assemble them in a way that made sense.

“Chaffakan. Hatka and Tayyi?”

“Chaffakan? Like in Chaka Khan? Maybe they’re fans of pop singers with cool names.”

“Will you get serious?”

“Okay, Tayyi sounds like Japanese or Chinese. Either a martial art or a relaxation technique.”

“Or how about a code?”

“If so we don’t have the key.”

Sean pulled out his phone and pecked on the digital screen.

“What are you doing?”

“What everybody does these days, I’m Googling it.”

He waited for the search request to load and then started scrolling down the responses. He didn’t look too confident.