The Apostle

Elise had arranged to meet Hutch for coffee after his overnight shift had finished. Until she could account for how Nikki Hale had spent her final hour and a half before driving away drunk and killing herself and four other people, she wouldn’t be able to forget the conversation she’d overheard between the president and Stephanie Gallo.

She met Hutchinson at a Starbucks a few blocks from the White House on Pe

“So what’s with all the cloak and dagger?” he asked as they exited with their coffees and headed toward Lafayette Park. “We could have grabbed a table inside.”

“I thought it would be nicer if we walked.”

Todd Hutchinson looked up at the overcast sky and turned up the collar of his overcoat. “What did you want to talk with me about?”

Alone, and one-on-one like this, Campbell had expected the man to come on to her as he had in the past. Instead, his demeanor was surprisingly professional.

“I want to talk about the night Nikki Hale died.”

Hutchinson’s coffee cup was halfway to his lips when the question came, and instead of taking a sip, he lowered the cup and looked at Elise. “Why do you want to talk about that?”

“Call it professional curiosity.”

“It was a sad night for everyone,” he said, raising his coffee cup again and taking a sip.

“I understand you saw her shortly before she died.”

“Who told you that?”

“Max Holland did,” she replied.

“Why were you and Max talking about Nikki Hale?”

Campbell ignored his question and gently pushed forward with her own. “Do you think the president was sleeping with her?”

“Who?” responded Hutchinson. “Nikki? How would I know?”

“The night she died she had been alone with him for a while.”

“Maybe they were sleeping together. Who cares?”

“Max says that after she left the president, she was still on the estate for a little bit before she finally climbed into her car to drive back to her hotel,” stated Campbell.

“So?”

“So,” she replied, “he also said while she might have had a drink or two with Alden, she didn’t look drunk to him when she left.”

“What does any of this have to do with me?” Hutchinson asked.

“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”

As a Secret Service agent, Campbell had been trained in detecting microexpressions, small facial clues that indicated someone was either lying or trying to mask an intent to do harm. As she glanced at Hutchinson’s face, she could clearly see the man was under stress and did not like answering her questions.

“Elise, listen,” he said. “If Max knows where Nikki Hale went after leaving the president that night, he should tell you. If he doesn’t want to, then that’s between the two of you.”

“Hutch, he did tell me. That’s why I’m talking to you.”

“It’s unprofessional.”

“Why?”

“Because by pointing you to me, he’s casting aspersions on the first lady.”

Campbell looked at him. “I don’t get it.”

“Listen, I know Holland doesn’t care for me,” said Hutch as they passed Blair House and entered the park. “There are plenty of senior agents just like him that I’ve either butted heads with or not gotten along with over the years. I don’t want to lose my position. I like being on the first lady’s detail.”

“How are you going to lose your position by talking to me?”

“If I start telling tales out of school and the first lady hears about it, how long do you think it’ll take for her to have me reassigned?”

Elise couldn’t argue with him. It was the same fear she’d had, still had actually, about pursuing the conversation between the president and Stephanie Gallo. “So this is a job security issue for you.”

“No,” said Hutchinson, pointing to a nearby bench. “It’s a loyalty issue. We’re here to protect these people. That’s our job. And their job is to let us, and that can’t be easy for them. They aren’t allowed many private, unguarded moments.”

“Okay,” said Elise as she sat down on the bench with him. “We all know that. It’s drilled into us as agents, but-”

“No ‘buts’ for a second,” said Hutchinson, interrupting her. “I want to know why you suddenly find Nikki Hale’s death so interesting.”

Elise had no intention of lying to Hutchinson. He had the same training she did and would be able to smell a lie a mile away. At the same time, she had no intention of being completely truthful with him either. “Someone is considering bringing a civil suit over her accident.”

Hutchinson was clearly taken by surprise. “Who?” he asked.

“Christine De Palma. The business partner of Sheryl Coleman, who was killed that night.”

“The wife of the man driving the mini-van,” Hutchinson said absent-mindedly.

“Who also,” added Elise, “was the mother of the two children killed in that crash.”

“Why now?”

“Maybe she wants justice.”

“It was an accident. A lawsuit is not going to change anything. What grounds could this woman possibly bring a civil suit on?”

“Hale obviously had way too much to drink before she left the estate. I’m not an attorney, but from what I understand, if anyone contributed to Nikki’s intoxication, and knowingly allowed her to drive drunk, they could be in some serious trouble.”

Hutchinson balanced his coffee cup on his knee and stared across the park toward the statue of Andrew Jackson.

“How do you know about this lawsuit?” he asked.

“I’m friends with a detective in East Hampton.”

“Do you think this De Palma woman is serious about the suit?”

“I don’t know,” Campbell replied. “But if she does go through with it, everyone who was there that night is going to get subpoenaed.”

Hutchinson closed his eyes and shook his head. Exhaling a long breath, he opened them again and said, “The first lady is not fond of the women the president surrounds himself with. Stephanie Gallo and Nikki Hale in particular. She resents the access Gallo has to her husband. It makes her feel like she has been cast aside. Wherever the president was on the campaign trail Gallo was always close by. In fact, she traveled with him more than Mrs. Alden did. Rumors of affairs have been rampant-”

“As have rumors of the first lady’s drinking,” interjected Campbell, wondering aloud about something many insiders had long suspected. “Some say that played a part in the president’s not putting her out front as much as other candidates do with their spouses.”

Hutchinson shrugged. “From what I saw, I’d say the stress was pretty hard on her.”

“How does Nikki Hale fit into all of this? Was she with the first lady that night?”

Whether Hutchinson was resigned to the fact that the information was bound to come out at some point, or simply needed a colleague to unburden himself to, Elise couldn’t tell. All she knew was that for some reason, Hutch had decided to come clean with her.

“Stephanie Gallo is a beautiful, powerful woman, but with all her money there is one thing she doesn’t have-youth. That was something Nikki Hale had in abundance, and it was her that the first lady most suspected her husband might be having an affair with,” he said.

“Did she have any proof?” asked Campbell.

“Not that I know of. I think she was going more on intuition than anything else. The president sure seemed to spend a lot of time alone with her.”

Elise looked at him. “From what I understand, she was one of the primary architects of his web campaign. Considering how influential it was and how much money it raised, I’d say she was an important player.”

“I’m not defending the first lady. I’m just telling you what I saw.”

“Well, what did you see the night she died? Was she with the first lady?”

“Yes, she was,” said Hutchinson as he turned away and looked off at the statue again.

“Why? What did the first lady want with her?”

“She had decided to confront her. She asked me to find Hale and bring her back to the guesthouse.”