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“Oh.”

“Did he ever exhibit any hostility toward Mr. Martin or the President?”

“No. Matter of fact, he saw the President recently.” She winked. “But I bet you guys already know that, don’t you?”

“You haven’t heard from Bondurant since yesterday afternoon?”

“No. Sorry. Can I go now? Funerals aren’t my favorite thing.” She reached toward her car door. “Besides, there’s really nothing more I can tell you. Getting involved with Mr. Bondurant, even to a limited extent, was just one of several bad choices I’ve made recently. I’m sure you’re aware of some of my more public blunders. This is one I’d like to forget. The sooner the better.”

“If you hear from him—”

“I won’t. When I told him to take a hike, he launched into that male thing. You know, that ‘how dare you walk out on me, I’m God’s greatest gift’ speech.”

“If he does contact you, please give us a call.”

“I certainly will.” She took the card the agent handed her and placed it in her handbag. “I don’t want to get into trouble on account of him. If he contacts me, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

They thanked her for her time and walked back to their sedan. Barrie watched them go, feeling no animosity toward them. These two were among the good guys. They were doing their job as ordered by their superiors. They were performing by the book.

Not so the surveillance team set up on Daily’s block. They hadn’t yet stormed the house in search of Gray, which confirmed what they had suspected—those “agents” belonged to Merritt’s personal army within the FBI, commanded by Spence Martin, who didn’t want Gray to be found and questioned.

At any time, the President or his aide could command those men to move in and eliminate the pesky band of saboteurs living in Daily’s house. Why hadn’t they?

It was a question that plagued them all. Gray seemed to think they hadn’t made a move because they had something larger in mind, a grander scheme in which he, Barrie, and Daily would trap themselves.

She feared he was right.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Daily signaled to the hippie selling roses at the busy intersection. In under five seconds he was lying on the floor of the backseat, and Daily went through the green light.

“Good going, Daily,” Gray said, slipping off his headband and wig. “They’re three cars back and there’s a bus between you.”

“I’m getting good at this,” Daily replied from behind the steering wheel. “How’s the flower business?”

“Lucrative. I hate to give it up. Who’s that?” he asked, referring to Daily’s passenger.

“I’ve named her Dolly.”

Dolly was a wide-eyed inflatable doll. She was wearing a jacket that belonged to Barrie and an auburn wig even more matted than Gray’s hippie braid. The shoulder harness and seatbelt held her in place in the passenger seat.

“She’s supposed to be me,” Barrie said, crouched in the other corner of the backseat.

Without raising his head too high, Gray took a closer look at the doll. “Pretty good resemblance.”

“I’m glad you said that,” Barrie declared, unperturbed. “Now I don’t feel so bad about trashing you to the FBI.” She told him about being detained after Howie’s funeral.

“That was before Armbruster owned up to his mistake and you were removed from the Most Wanted list. Whatever you said to him worked. He was all over the news this evening, claiming that there’d been a total breakdown in communications. He hinted that the error rested on the shoulders of his office staff, the efficiency of which is being reevaluated. Through the senator, Merritt assured the nation that Spencer Martin is handling a ‘delicate personal matter.’

“Which covers everything from a hemorrhoidectomy to high treason.”

“Right. And that he will resume his duties at the White House when the matter is resolved. Clete received some mild criticism from his colleagues, but he took it on the chin and was good-natured about it.”

“Tell him about your call from Justice.” As prearranged, Daily had been driving aimlessly, trying to shake their surveillance, but he’d also been following their conversation.

“From your source?”

She nodded. “I was paged and returned the call, but instead of giving me information I already had, which was that the search for you had been called off, my source was after information.”