“No, I don’t think so.” Chase stopped beside the window. “We tried when we were looking for her brother.”
“I don’t see how this woman doesn’t have records,” Cassady said.
“What do we know about Dario’s family?” Chase asked.
Reno looked down at his computer printouts. “Parents deceased. A female child, registered as stillborn, born ten years prior to Dario Imperi, but no other siblings. I couldn’t find any record of another sister, which leads me to believe TQ wasn’t really a sister or she paid someone to alter the records.”
“What do we know about the stillborn?” Chase started pacing again.
“The family doctor signed the death certificate,” Reno reported.
“Has anyone talked to the doctor?” Chase asked.
Reno shook his head. “Dead end. He died twelve years ago.”
Chase paused behind Reno and peered over his shoulder at the printouts. “Do we know where the stillborn was buried?”
“Yeah,” he replied. “Same cemetery in Wichita, Kansas, where the parents were interred.”
“But…we don’t know there’s an actual body,” Chase said.
“What do you mean?” Cassady asked.
Monty looked at Chase. “An exhumation.”
“You think it’s empty?” Cassady asked. “That the child never died?”
“Everything is possible.” Monty smiled, happy to have anything at all to go on.
“Like I said, no one is a ghost.” Chase started her restless pacing again. “I bet my PEZ collection that grave is empty.”
“Why would the parents fake the death?” Cassady asked.
“Illegitimate child, couldn’t afford a child, too soon for a child.” Chase stopped and looked pointedly at Monty. “Or simply an inconvenient child. Pick one.”
Cassady turned to glare at him as well. “Yeah, Monty. Pick one.”
Monty wished both women would stop staring at him. Cassady was aware of who Jaclyn was to him, but did Chase know as well? And if so, did both of them think of him as despicably as he did of himself? As much as he had wanted to tell his daughter the truth, he’d never had a reason. He’d kept assuring himself all those years that Jaclyn was with him and that was all that mattered. But he’d never considered what mattered for Jaclyn. “There are reasons to give away or not want to acknowledge a child.”
“If you say so.” Cassady turned to Chase. “Which means the evil sister is alive and thriving.”
“If TQ was given to another family, it was an off-the-record transaction,” Chase said, “which would explain why we can’t come up with anything, not even a social security number, under the Imperi name.”
“How are we going to find out who took the child?” Cassady asked.
“We don’t have the time to jump to conclusions, so first things first,” Monty replied. He turned to Reno. “See if you can cross-reference—”
“I’m on it.” Reno scooped up his printouts and headed back to his office.
“Skip the paperwork,” Chase said. “Have someone in the area check it out now.”
Monty reached for the phone and called Joanna. “Who do we have near Kansas?”
*
The White House
Two a.m.
Ryden was dreaming, deep in slumber, when the phone rang, but because she wasn’t used to calls at this hour, the jangling startled her into heart-pounding full awareness in an instant.
She hadn’t been able to sleep when she’d finally turned in close to midnight. Thoughts of Kennedy and everything she had told her kept replaying in her head. She wasn’t certain that Kennedy realized the severity of the situation both of them were in. Though she was confident she wouldn’t deliberately do anything to harm her, Ryden worried she might do something irrational to protect her and uncover whatever she thought was going on.
When she closed her eyes, all she could see was Kennedy. Her expressive blue eyes, determined chin, enticing mouth. That soft whisper of Kennedy’s lips on her wrist; how could anything feel that soft? And how could a simple smile be so sexy? How had she never noticed women before, and especially women like Kennedy? Maybe because woman like this EOO guard usually didn’t enter her world unless they were lost or looking for directions.
She glanced at the clock as she snatched up the phone before it could ring a second time. Two a.m. She’d slept less than an hour. “Yes?”
“It’s time. I’ll be at your door in ten minutes,” Ratman said, and hung up.
Her heart boomed double time in her panic as she fumbled for the bedside lamp. When it blinked on, she let her eyes adjust and looked around the room, taking deep breaths. It was time to go home, wherever that might be. And it was time to start a new life—one that didn’t include Kennedy.
Almost as if in a dream, she went to the closet to begin the departure procedure they had drilled her on. She grabbed the jeans, long-sleeve T-shirt, hoodie, and sneakers they had supplied her with—items that had nothing to do with the president’s wardrobe—and quickly changed into them. She had nothing else to prepare or take; what she now wore was all she owned.
“I don’t get to say good-bye,” she mumbled, as she zipped up the hoodie. She walked over to the adjoining door and placed her hand on it. “Good-bye, Harper,” she said, using Kennedy’s first name for the first time.
The knock she had been waiting for since she entered the White House came promptly. She unlocked the door and Ratman walked in, while Jason, her backup Secret Service agent, waited just outside.
“I’m ready,” she said immediately, wanting to avoid a private encounter with Ratman.
“Why so glum?” He smiled.
“Can we just…go?”
“Of course. Your father is in critical condition, after all.” Ratman turned to Jason. “Get Kennedy and join us downstairs.”
She could scarcely conceal her shock. “Are they both coming with us?”
“Of course,” Ratman replied. “They’re your guards, after all.”
“But they—”
Ratman pulled her out into the hall and shut the door. “We have to move. The cleaners have an hour to remove all traces of you.”
She walked behind him on unsteady legs. Kennedy’s going to be there. Escorting me. The knowledge of what would happen next made her sick to her stomach.
*
Shield opened her door and found Jason standing outside. She’d thrown a White House robe over her navy pajamas.
“I was about to knock,” he said.
“What’s going on?” She pretended she hadn’t heard the conversation from the other room. Moore had come to get Thomas; something apparently was wrong with her father.
“Beacon’s father had a stroke and is en route to Suburban Hospital in Bethesda,” he replied. “She’s being taken out via the tunnels to keep things quiet. We have to move.”
“Who’s we?”
“You and I and Advisor Moore.”
“I have to notify the Secret Service to get a detail and vehicles dispatched to whatever exit we’re using. Why wasn’t I told about this?”
“Moore called me. Don’t know why.” Jason rocked up on his heels impatiently. “Look, she has to move ASAP. Why don’t you get ready while I arrange that?”
“Where’s Beacon?” she asked.
“On her way to the tunnels. They’re waiting for us.”
“Call SS. Tell them to haul ass.” She left the door open to ensure he made the proper arrangements as she dressed—casually, in jeans, button-down shirt, and jacket, so she wouldn’t draw attention in the hospital. Poor Elizabeth, she thought. The last disaster she needed on top of everything else was a sick or dead father. First a murdered husband, and now this. The woman couldn’t catch a break.
Shield could hear Jason out in the hall, informing the Secret Service about Beacon and making arrangements for three decoy cars to follow the presidential vehicle.