Her nostrils flare, but she doesn’t respond, looking to her husband for defense. Something about Peter’s expression suggests my assessment of Sutton and Janice’s relationship isn’t far off. When he doesn’t say anything, Janice snatches her hand away from him and stands, huffing dramatically.
“I want you out of my house.”
She storms out of the room, leaving me with a stressed out Peter. Since I have no desire to overstay my welcome, and no need for the awkward silence we’ve been left in, I push to my feet. “I’ll see myself out.”
Peter doesn’t reply, remaining in his seat as Agent Shaw steps in front of me and Agent Morgan takes my back. We’ve made our way back to the door when he finally finds his voice.
“Mrs. Taylor, wait!” I turn to see him coming up the short hall with his phone in his hand. The screen is lit, displaying an image I can’t quite make out. “I need to show you this.”
I step around Agent Morgan, meeting him halfway. “What is it?”
“A photo.” He pushes the phone into my hand, shame a hard shadow over his features. “Sutton sent it to me a few days before she died. She was convinced someone was following her. I told her she was just being paranoid, that the guilt of the affair was getting to her, but she was insistent.”
My heart is pounding again, slapping against my ribcage so hard I’m scared the repeated collision of muscle and bone are audible. I study the photo. It’s a blurry shot taken with Sutton’s front camera somewhere on the streets of Lexington. Her face is mostly obscured, blonde hair blowing in the summer wind, and it’s clear that she didn’t care if anyone could make her out. What she wanted the viewer to see is the man a few steps behind her.
The top half of his body is cut off, so I can’t see his face. I can’t see anything but the dark wash of his jeans, the hem of his black t-shirt and the crescent moon shaped scar on his right hand. It could be anyone with any number of reasons for walking down the street at the same time as Sutton. I tell Peter as much when I give him back his phone.
“Why did you come here, Mrs. Taylor?”
“To find out if your daughter was still sleeping with my husband.”
It’s the only answer I feel comfortable giving. The only one that keeps me safe and the integrity of my investigation intact. As far as motivations for flying across the country and visiting a stranger’s home in the middle of the night goes, it felt pretty solid to me. No one would have trouble believing that a public figure who’s already been caught unawares once would do anything to avoid that embarrassment again. Peter doesn’t believe me, though. He scrubs a hand down his face to temper his frustration.
“No, if it was just about the affair, you wouldn’t have gone through all this trouble now that she’s gone. It just doesn’t make any sense. I know that’s what you’ve told everyone else, but it’s not the truth. Or at least not the whole truth.”
“What exactly do you think the truth is, Mr. Ellsworth?”
His eyes bounce from my face to the expressionless masks of the agents behind me and then he leans in, voice low and urgent.
“The truth is, you think your husband had my daughter killed, and you came here hoping to find something to help you prove it.” He holds his hand out, showing me the photo once more. “This is all I have. I’m sorry it’s not more, but she was only brave enough to try and get a picture of him once.”
“Wait, so she saw him before this?”
Peter nods, and I resist the desire to ream him out for burying the lead. “Multiple times in the week before she died.Outside of her apartment and a few times when she was leaving work. She was scared, Mrs. Taylor, and I know that might not mean much to you given your history, but it’s true. She spent the last few days of her life paranoid and afraid, and when she came to me, I dismissed her because I was angry that she kept debasing herself for him. Maybe if I had listened?—”
“No.” I cut that line of reasoning short, placing a hand on his arm to get him to look at me. “Nothing you could have done would have stopped this, Peter.”
Hope sparks in his eyes. “So you do believe there’s more to her death than they’re letting on?”
Folding my lips together to prevent myself from saying more, I step back from the grief-ridden man and turn back towards the door. This time he doesn’t give chase or call for me to stop, he lets us go, holding the door open as we retreat into the pink, orange and red hues of a dawning day. Agent Morgan opens the back door for me while Shaw climbs behind the wheel and starts the engine of our rented SUV. I find myself lingering, one foot on the sidewalk and the other inside the safety of the car, all my attention on the person who just gave me the first real lead I’ve had in weeks.
“Mr. Ellsworth?” I call out to him, a sad smile of commiseration curving my lips ever so slightly. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
15
BECK
The turning of the blades of Marine One are a rhythmic thrumming that echoes in my chest as the helicopter descends on the South Lawn. Cal and I share a glance from across the tight space, and the exhaustion weighing down his shoulders and extending the length of his blinks every time his eyes close is nothing more than a reflection of fatigue that’s settled into my bones.
We’d been called on to join Aubrey for an unscheduled trip to Camp David right at the end of a shift. The last minute order left us with no time to do anything but grab our go bags and get on board the bird with Cordelia and the tyrant who, despite having six other men to choose from, requested Cal and I stand guard outside the lodge while he held court with an unknown number of people who arrived before we did and stayed behind to be entertained by Cordelia even when Aubrey had to go.
From what I can tell, the plan was to stay in Maryland for at least a day or two, but something changed. I don’t know what, but I’ve spent the entire flight back praying to God that it has nothing to do with Selene. We haven’t been in the same room since the night of the State Dinner almost a month ago. I’ve hadto live off glimpses of her in the halls and brief updates from Agent Shaw that, up until yesterday, told us nothing more than she’s alive and breathing. Her latest message stood out because it was longer than all the rest and made mention of flight to Kentucky leaving in the wee hours of the morning from a private airfield.
Cal and I have been on high alert since, spending what little free time we’ve had over the last twenty-four hours checking all her socials and asking Shaw for updates that never came. We’re completely in the dark, with no idea of where she’s gone, why she’s left or if she’s even made it back.
The metallic clang of bird’s landing gear settling on top of the aluminum plates meant to protect the grass from damage signals the end of our descent. Aubrey is on his feet in an instant, rushing the flight crew through the deplaning procedure and offering a sloppy salute to the Marine at the bottom of the stairs as he hurries inside. Normally, this would be when Cal and I relinquish our responsibilities to the highest-ranking agent on duty and head home to recover from the overtime we’ve been forced to work, but neither of us are prepared to walk away just yet. Even without discussing it, we seem to be in agreement that Aubrey’s abrupt departure from Camp David has something to do with Selene’s trip to Kentucky.
It just doesn’t make sense for it to be anything else.
