Executive Privilege

The first lady was a powerfully built woman who had gone to Oregon State on a volleyball scholarship and ended up as a third team all-American in her senior year. Her shoulder-length brown hair was curly, her nose was a little too large, and her blue eyes were a tad small for her face. She had a high forehead and flat cheekbones. Though not plain, she was certainly not girlishly pretty, but she was charismatic, and her size and intellect dominated any gathering. She had been the captain of her high school and college volleyball teams, captain of her high school basketball team, valedictorian of her high school, and an honors student in college and medical school.

Chris and Claire had married while Claire was in medical school in Portland and Christopher was on the verge of his first run for office. Claire had cut back on her practice when Patrick was born and had given it up when the family moved to Washington, D.C., after Christopher was elected vice president.

“You could have come in and kissed Patrick good night,” Claire said.

“You two seemed so at peace that I didn’t want to spoil the moment.”

The president kissed his wife on the forehead. “Have I ever told you what a great mother you are?”

“From time to time,” Claire responded with a sly smile, “and you’re going to get many more chances.”

Farrington looked confused, and Claire laughed. “I’m pregnant.”

Farrington stopped short. He looked stu

“You’re serious?”

Claire stopped smiling. “You’re not sorry, are you?”

“No, no, it’s just…I thought you were on the pill.”

“I decided to stop taking it two months ago.” She put her hands on Chris’s shoulders and looked him in the eye. “Are you mad?”

A mix of emotions swept across the president’s face but the words he spoke were the right ones.

“We always wanted more kids. I just thought another pregnancy would be tough with everything you have to do as first lady.”

“Don’t worry about me. Being pregnant didn’t slow me down during the gubernatorial campaign.”

“True. It was actually a plus, if I recall.”

“And it will be a plus this time. The women will applaud your family values and the men will be in awe of your virility.”

Farrington laughed. Then he hugged Claire.

“You’re a treasure.” He stepped back until they were at arm’s length. “Are you going to be okay tonight?”

“I’ll be fine. My speech is short and it will be nice going out in public before I start looking like a whale.”

“You don’t feel sick?”

“I’ve had a little morning sickness, but I’m okay now. Chuck called ahead to the hotel and booked a suite in case I need to rest.”

“I love you,” Farrington said, hugging her again. “You know I wouldn’t have dumped this on you at the last minute if this meeting wasn’t important, but Gaylord’s pulling out all the stops. Chuck says she’s raising a lot of money.”

Farrington sounded worried. Claire laid her palm against his cheek. It was warm, and the touch calmed him.

“Maureen is going to shit bullets when we a

“I’m going to send Chuck with you.”

“Won’t he be needed at the meeting?”

“I want him by your side, Claire. I want to know you’re protected.”

Claire kissed her husband’s cheek. “Don’t worry about me, and definitely don’t worry about Maureen Gaylord.”

Chapter Four

Dana Cutler was bored out of her skull. After three days of following Charlotte Walsh to class, the supermarket, restaurants, and her apartment, she was ready to shoot herself. This girl’s life was so dull that Dana couldn’t imagine why anyone was interested in it. She would have quit if the job didn’t pay so well.

A little after 6 P.M., Dana had left a phone message for her mystery client at the number Dale Perry had given her, explaining that Walsh had walked out of Senator Gaylord’s campaign headquarters in the company of a white male, approximately six feet tall with wavy blond hair and a neatly trimmed mustache. The subject and her escort had proceeded to the House of Thai where they were currently sharing what appeared to be pad thai, spring rolls, and some type of curry. Cutler was able to give this detailed report because she was seated in her car in a disabled parking spot viewing the couple through the lens of the Leica M8 digital camera that belonged to Jake Teeny. The disabled parking permit on her dashboard was courtesy of an acquaintance at the Department of Motor Vehicles who sold fake driver’s licenses, disabled permits, and other DMV goodies to supplement her income. If anyone ever asked, Dana would claim she was recovering from hip-replacement surgery and she had a letter from a quack who was on her acquaintance’s payroll to back her up.

Dana had taken a chance and peed in another restaurant two doors down from the Thai place as soon as Walsh and her buddy ordered. Now, an hour later, she was free of the call of nature, but her stomach was rumbling. Dana grabbed a doughnut from the box on her passenger seat and was taking a bite when Walsh stood up. She stopped in midbite. Walsh had grabbed her backpack and headed for the door. Dana dropped the camera next to the box of doughnuts and started the engine of her inconspicuous, brown Toyota. The car looked like a piece of crap but Dana had installed an engine that would have made a NASCAR driver envious. Her father had owned a garage and raced cars when he was younger. Dana loved speed and learned how a car worked almost as soon as she learned her ABC's. Her dad had died of a stroke before she’d finished working on the engine and she’d always been sad that she hadn’t been able to take him for a spin in her jalopy.

Thinking about her dad brought back memories of her childhood. She was certain that her memories were far different from those of Charlotte Walsh. Dana’s mother had walked out on the family in Dana’s sophomore year in high school. They talked occasionally, but Dana had never forgiven her for deserting the family. Walsh probably had great Thanksgivings and Christmases with loving parents and bright, overachieving siblings.

Dana’s folks hadn’t been poor, but there was never any money for frills. Dana had to work during high school if she wanted spending money. Long nights as a waitress had paid her tuition to a community college, and Dana had been an underachiever until she joined the police force. Being a cop was something she was good at, but her days on the force were behind her now and she’d never get them back.

Walsh headed back toward Gaylord campaign headquarters on K Street. A lot of the people who worked on K Street were lawyers, lobbyists, and employees of think tanks, and many of them had returned to the suburbs for di

There weren’t many cars on the road so Dana hung back, speeding up anytime she felt in danger of losing sight of Walsh’s taillights. She hoped Walsh was going home to bed so she could get some sleep, too. The Toyota hit a pothole and the camera bounced on the passenger seat. When she thought about the camera, she automatically thought about Jake Teeny. He was a photojournalist Dana had met when he’d been assigned to take the photos for an article on policewomen. When she left the force, he’d helped her through her hardest days.

It wasn’t unusual for Jake to be away for weeks at a time in some exotic locale or war zone. When he was in D.C. and they both felt like it, Dana stayed at Jake’s house, which was roomier than the small apartment she called home. They’d been friends and off-and-on lovers for years, but neither of them wanted anything permanent and the relationship was convenient for both of them. Jake was the only person to whom she’d opened up about what had happened at the farm, though she hadn’t come close to telling him the whole story. She couldn’t risk losing him, something that could very well happen if he learned everything she’d done.