“My guys will find the file,” the other man assured him without even breaking out into a sweat.
“They’d better,” he warned. “And I want that reporter dealt with, too.”
The other man gave a nod. “Any particular way you’d like me to approach that job?”
He went back to his desk for another drink. “I don’t care how it’s done, and I don’t want to know the details.” The less he knew about the process, the better. “But we need to know what she knows first.”
“And after my guy gets her to talk?”
It wasn’t a question of if. For all the headaches and stress that came with situations like these, his guy always gets them to talk.
“Same as always.” He looked up from his glass with a knowing stare. “I just want this thing handled and put to bed.”
The office he’d protect at all costs grew quiet before the man he trusted to get the job done spoke again.
“You’re the boss.” He sat his glass on a nearby accent table. The conniving man opened the door and left the office with a silent assurance that the situation was under control.
With that particular problem off his plate, he returned to the same window as before. The Washington Monument stood high in the distance, like a patriotic, imposable force.
You’re the boss.
A grin graced the corners of his lips as he brought the glass’s rounded edge to his mouth. He tipped his head back and finished the remaining drops of the smooth whiskey. Yes, this was his favorite view so far.
There’s more where that came from.
His thought made his smile grow wide. Yes, he loved the view and the power that came with it. And he’d be damned if he let anyone—especially some no-name journalist from Missouri—take either of those things away.
CHAPTER SIX
“Mr. Daley!” The heels of Janie’s boots clicked along the sidewalk’s hard surface as she rushed toward the person she’d been waiting forty minutes to see.
The White House Press Secretary stopped shy of climbing into the back seat of his government-issued car. Turning her way, the middle-aged man with gray hair flashed her a perfect politician’s smile.
“Yes?”
“Mr. Daley, my name is Janie Reynolds.” She reached him, hating how out-of-breath she sounded.
“How can I help you, Miss Reynolds?” White House Press Secretary Howard Daley politely asked.
Surprised he was willing to even give her the time of day, Janie made a mental note to get back into the gym and got straight to the point.
“Mr. Daley, I’m interested to hear your thoughts on the disappearance of Amy Weaver.”
The man frowned, giving his head a quick shake back and forth. “I’m afraid I don’t know who that is.”
“So you’re saying my source is misinformed?”
“Your source?”
Janie nodded. “Until a few days ago, Amy Weaver was an intern with the White House press office. An officeyou’rein charge of, if I’m not mistaken. I’m currently investigating her disappearance and was hoping to get a statement from you on the matter.”
If Daley had knowledge of Amy or the fact she was missing, he didn’t show it.
“You may find this surprising, Miss Reynolds, but I don’t know every intern by name. But if an intern of mine was missing, I can assure you, I’d be the first to know.”
“Were you aware that her name was removed from the official White House intern list twenty-four hours after she went missing?”
He kept that same, perfect smile, but something flashed behind his blue stare. It was there and gone in a nanosecond, and if Janie’s eyes hadn’t been locked with his, she would have missed the inconspicuous tell.
