First Family (Sean King & Michelle Maxwell 4)

Sean looked at the man, back at Tuck, and then at Michelle.

“Aaron Betack?” said Sean right as the rain picked up.

CHAPTER 47

ARECEPTION was held for the people attending the funeral. Not at the White House, but at Blair House, right across the street. It was actually four houses connected together and at about seventy thousand square feet was larger than the White House. Normally the residence was used by visiting foreign heads of state and other high-ranking VIPs. Harry Truman and his family had even stayed there in the 1950s when the White House had been stripped down to its support beams and totally rebuilt. But today it would be a place for people to gather and remember Pam Dutton, have a few drinks and nibble on some food prepared by the world-class White House kitchen chefs.

Sean and Michelle passed through the metal detector, walked under the long awning, were wanded at the front door, and then entered the house. They had both been here before on high-level dignitary protection during their years at the Service. However, this was the first time they had seen the place in a nonworking capacity. They accepted drinks from a waiter and hugged a corner, watching and waiting. The president arrived with Jane, and then Tuck and the kids followed them in.

“There he is,” said Michelle.

Sean nodded as Aaron Betack entered the room and scoped it out grid by grid as every agent who had ever worked for the Service instinctively did, retired or not. It was simply a habit you never forgot. Or else couldn’t break.

“How do you want to do this?” she asked.

“He can’t exactly fire us for grilling him.”

“But should we tip our hand that we know about his seeing Pam?”

“That’s the big question. Let’s circle around it with him and see if the answer falls out of his mouth.”

They waited until Betack had broken away from another group and walked into an adjoining room.

“Hey, Aaron,” said Sean as he and Michelle came in behind him.

Betack nodde

d at them but said nothing.

Sean eyed the glass in the other man’s hand. “Not working today?”

“Just paying my respects.”

“Sad day,” said Michelle.

Betack clinked the ice cubes in his glass and nodded, biting down on a cracker. “Shitty day all around, actually.”

“More than the funeral, you mean?” said Sean.

“Nothing on the girl. First Lady’s not happy.”

“But FBI’s still working leads. We just saw Waters. He didn’t strike me as a guy who gives up easily.”

Betack drew closer. “Best detective in the world needs to have a lead of some kind.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“So no more communications from the kidnappers?” asked Michelle.

“Not since the bowl and spoon.”

“Odd,” commented Sean.

“Everything about this sucker is odd,” Betack said strangely.

“But it was also really well planned. If Michelle and I hadn’t shown up at the house unexpectedly, we’d know even less. So you think they’d be in regular communication.”

Betack shrugged. “It is what it is.”