im like she was trying to cover her tracks. He didn’t find a single note, or scrap of paper, or receipt, anything to indicate that she was leaving or why she was going. What he did find were several overdue books from the library, all relating to women’s psychological disorders and SIDS.”
Merritt wiped his perspiring forehead. “She’s still on it.”
“That’s my guess. We located her car in a parking lot at National Airport, then started going through the passenger logs of all flights out of there over the last several days. She didn’t travel under her own name, and there were no credit card charges on any of her accounts.”
The President stopped running. Spence stopped, too. The Secret Service agents halted but kept their distance.
“She’s being awfully paranoid,” Merritt said.
“Right. When her name didn’t appear on any of the logs, we checked airline agents until we found the one who sold her the ticket. Travis was traveling under an alias and paid for her ticket to Jackson Hole with cash. The airline employee identified her from a picture.”
“She went to see Gray.”
“She went to see Gray.” Spence’s expression was as somber as the President’s. “At least that’s what we must assume.”
Merritt stared into space, thinking it over. “He hates reporters. I don’t think he would talk to her.”
“Are you willing to take that chance?”
“Damn.” Merritt flicked a bead of sweat off the tip of his nose. “What if we’re too late? If she’s talked to Gray, if he’s told her anything—”
“Then we have a potential problem,” Spence said.
“Prior to an election year, we can’t afford even a ‘potential’ problem.”
“I agree.” Spence locked gazes with Merritt. “I think we have to guarantee this reporter’s silence.”
The President nodded, then resumed jogging. “Do whatever you deem necessary.”
Spence fell into step with him. “I’ll see to it immediately.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Are you shittin’ me? The FBI?”
“That’s what Howie said.” Barrie was watching herself in the mirror as she talked long distance to Daily from her motel room in Jackson Hole. Was it the poor lighting in the room or her increasing apprehension that made her look so pale?
“Two agents went to WVUE and questioned him about me.” She recounted for Daily everything she could remember that Howie had related to her. “They scared him shitless. Literally. He went into details that don’t bear repeating about distress in his lower bowel.”
“This is no laughing matter, Barrie.”
Another defense mechanism she’d developed during childhood was a sardonic sense of humor. This time her wit did nothing to alleviate the grave situation. She had hoped that Daily would dismiss her concerns. Instead, he was underscoring them. “What do you think it means?”
“I think it means that you’ve made people nervous.”
“What people?”
“Maybe just Dalton Neely. Your repeated calls have annoyed the White House press secretary; they insinuate that he’s being less than truthful about the First Lady’s well-being. His way of telling you to back off is to sic the feds on you.”
“Or?”
“Or,” he sighed, “it could go all the way up to the Oval Office. Did Howie have any theories?”
“He and Jenkins were told that the inquiry was strictly routine, then Howie told them that my interest in Vanessa was a friendly outgrowth of the recent interview.”
“Did they buy that?”
“They seemed to. That probably capped it.”