“We need to go back,” I say, still trying to…processthis. “We have to be there for him.”
“I’m going to call him first,” Kev tells me, and when I start to argue, Kev switches into Prophet modeandpulls Sir rank on me. “Iwillcallhim first,girl,” he softly says.
He’s never pulled rank on me at “work” before. Never.
Then again,I suppose this isn’t work—it’s personal.
Due to the obvious logistics issues, I haven’t been able to spend much time with Chris’ brother and sister-in-law since I took office. When we got married, he explained to them the reason he didn’t tell them we were seeing each other was he wanted to protect their privacy. Considering he was Secret Service, and Charles had a background in military intelligence,they believed Chris.
We’ve had them, the kids, and Tory’s parents over to the White House for Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas every year since I took office, because it’s easier to bring them in than to take Chris and I elsewhere. We also bring them out for Fourth of July, so they can watch the fireworks with us from the roof of the White House. Little Hudson, especially, loves watching them.
It also means with them around that Kev can be a part of the holiday celebrations without raising eyebrows, even if Lauren isn’t there. We don’t have to leave him behind.
Kev eases me back into my chair and pulls his personal phone out of his pocket. We never use them for work. When we text or talk to each other for personal stuff, we always use Signal to help protect our conversations. Kev standsthere next to me, waiting for the call to go through.
“Hey, Sir… She’s right here. They just told us… Yes, Sir. Okay. Love you… Here she is.” He holds the phone out to me.
I take it. “Love you, Sir.”
Chris’ sigh sounds bone-weary, ancient. “Love you, too, sweetheart.” That means he’s not alone and able to freely speak, or he’d be calling me ‘girl.’
“I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks. I’ve got SecretService en route to their house right now. I want the kids protected.”
“What? Why?”
Another sigh. There’s a pause, then I hear the background noise change, like he’s closed a door.
When he speaks again, his voice is lower, barely audible. “Shae, it wasn’t an accident. This isn’t being released yet, so don’t tell anyone. It looks like they were deliberately run off the road. Troopers said therewas paint transfer all along the driver’s side that can’t be accounted for any other way. Maybe it was meant to look like an accident, or maybe it was a hit-and-run, but it wasn’t just an accident. And the roads weren’t icy yet when the crash happened.”
“Oh, no!” Horror fills me. “Does Director Eisenthal need me to put in a request with Homeland Security?” They oversee the Secret Service.
“We’llneed one for continued coverage, yeah. Right now, it’s being treated as an active crime scene and investigation, so he could order agents in immediately.”
“Okay. I’ll call Sasha and have her issue that.”
“Thanks.”
I hate feeling…helpless. “We’ll come back and—”
“No.”
I blink. “What?”
“No, Shae. You need to go give the speech. If you want to fly back tonight after, and cancel Friday’s slate,okay, but donotcancel tonight. Put Kev on.Now.”
I automatically hand the phone over at his order. Kev takes it and steps to the far corner of the room, turned away from me. I can’t hear his side of the conversation other than the occasional, “Yes, Sir.”
When he turns back a moment later, there’s a grim determination on his expression. “We continue to LA. I’ll ask the organizers to move youto the six p.m. time slot. We were flying in anyway on Marine One, so traffic’s not an issue. That’ll get us home two hours earlier.”
I nod, still processing.
Kev slides his phone into his pocket and picks up his work phone, hits the button to silence it. “I’ll go address the press corps.”
“No,” I say, pulling myself to my feet. “I’ll do it.”
“Honey, Chris said—”
