First Daughter

With the engine still ru

"I guess." She put a hand to her temple. "My head hurts."

"Sharon'll get you some Tylenol as soon as we get inside."

"You guys broke up, didn't you?"

Jack nodded.

"Are you going to get back together?" Alli asked.

Jack sighed. "I'd be lying if I said I knew."

"Yeah, I know."

"What d'you mean?"

"Emma talked about you guys a lot because what upset her the most was the fighting. She couldn't bear it."

Jack opened the window a crack. The heated ca

"Plus, she thought it was all her fault."

"That's not true!"

"That's fu

Jack shut up then. There was a peculiar feeling in the pit of his stomach, as if he'd just overeaten and now had to get rid of the food at any cost. He opened the car door, got out. Leaning against the car, he realized that he was having trouble breathing.

Alli slid out, came around the front of the Continental to stand beside him. "I'm sorry if I upset you."

"Don't give it a second thought."

There had come a moment when, looking back, he saw that their fighting had been incessant. And about what? Nothing. They fought because it had become a habit, because they were locked in combat, like ancient enemies who no longer knew how their enmity began. He was sick of it. There had to be a better way to deal with each other than through the armor of anger.

He nodded. "You're just telling me something both Sharon and I should've realized long before now."

SHARON LOOKED scared out of her wits when she opened the door.

"Alli!"

"Hello, Mrs. McClure."

"Come on in." Sharon took a look over their shoulders before closing and locking the door behind them. "Now what's this all about, Jack?"

They went into the living room, sat down on the L-shaped sofa.

"I'll get you something for your headache," Jack said.

"No," Alli said. "It's gone now."

Jack regarded her for a moment before turning to Sharon. "I need a safe haven for Alli," he said. "Just for a short time while I take care of some business."

Sharon looked skeptical. "Alli, why aren't you home with your parents?"

"It's a long story," Jack began.

"I'm asking Alli, Jack."

"It's not for her to answer that question."

"I think it is," Sharon persisted. "Alli?"

Alli looked down at her hands. "This is what Emma said it was like, being with you."

"What?" Sharon said. "What did you say?"

"You wanted her to answer," Jack said softly. "Hear her out."

Sharon glared at him, but remained silent. Perhaps the rattle of sabers was all she was prepared to deliver. Still, Jack could hear the snorting of her warhorse champing at the bit to head into battle.

Intuiting the silence as a tacit acknowledgment that she should go on, Alli took a deep breath. "There's no use arguing over this," she said softly. "Jack's right. If he can't tell you why I'm not with my parents, I can't either." She lifted her head. "But it's important I stay with you, that he's free to do whatever he has to do."

Sharon sat back, looked at Jack. "Did you put her up to this?" Seeing the expression on Jack's face, she raised her hands defensively. "Sorry. Sorry." She nodded. "Of course you can stay with me, Alli." She smiled. "As long as you want or need to."

Alli ducked her head. "Thank you, Mrs. McClure."

Sharon's smile widened. "But only if you call me Sharon."

JACK FOUND Nina's car idling at the curb outside Sharon's house. Before he could open the door, the passenger's-side window slid smoothly down, and Nina, leaning over from behind the wheel, said, "Backseat, Jack."

Curious, Jack opened the rear door. Sliding onto the seat, he found himself next to a rather short barrel-chested man with a neatly trimmed beard and the calm demeanor of a sage.

"Jack," Nina said, "meet De

"Jack, it's good to finally meet you," Secretary Paull said as he briefly enclosed Jack's hand in a hearty grip. "Nina has told me a great deal about you."

"Has she?" Jack caught Nina's eyes in the rearview mirror. "Spying on me?"

Paull laughed. "Keeping an eye on you is how I see it. Nina works for me undercover. She's a damn good operative."

"I'm in no position to dispute that," Jack said.

Paull laughed again. "I don't trust people without a sense of humor, Jack. And d'you know why? Because nothing murders a sense of humor faster than keeping secrets."

"Nina's a barrel of laughs, I can vouch for that," Jack said. "She's the only one I ever met who used a chocolate-chip cookie as a missile."

That got an appreciative chuckle out of Nina.

"Okay, now that we're one big, happy family, let's get down to brass tacks," Paull said. "Jack, I think you're looking for some answers, and I have them. I sent out the Dark Car ma

What have I gotten myself into? Jack asked himself. "Why would anyone want to make a move against me?"

"We'll get to the details in a moment," Paull said. "Now, suffice it to say that you're Edward Carson's man. As you might imagine, the president-elect is seen as something of a threat to certain individuals in the Administration. There's an initiative to get certain matters the president deems pressing sewn up before the twentieth."

"Like rounding up the First American Secular Revivalists."

Paull nodded. "Among other suspect groups."

"The FASR's only crime is that their philosophy is in direct opposition with the current Administration's," Jack said.

"As you no doubt understand, Jack, this Administration has serious perception issues. The world-and the players in it-are what it says they are, no matter the reality."

"Don't you understand that the FASR is being made a scapegoat?" Jack said. "You guys can't find E-Two, so you're going after the easy target."

"Please don't confuse this Administration with the truth, Jack." The secretary shifted in his seat. "Now, I think you may have an answer for me. You know a man named Ian Brady."

It wasn't a question, and Jack's eyes sought out Nina's again. "Yes, sir. Twenty-five years ago, he was a major drug supplier in my old neighborhood."

"Which was?"

"Not far from McMillan Reservoir."

Secretary Paull passed a hand across his brow. It was clear Jack had delivered his answer; trouble was, it was the answer Paull had been afraid of because it confirmed his dark analysis of who Ian Brady really was.

"You need to forget McMillan Reservoir, Jack."

"That's a bit hard to do, sir. This man, Ian Brady or Charles Whitman or Ro

"Nevertheless, you must forget him."

Jack would have said, What the hell are you talking about, sir? except he knew exactly what Paull was saying. The last piece of the puzzle he'd been assembling in his head-the most crucial one-had just fallen into place. No wonder the IDs of the vics at McMillan Reservoir were never revealed. It was the same reason that the crash of the Dark Car and the deaths of the two agents in it never made the news.

Jack's mind replayed the moment at McMillan Reservoir when he'd followed Gus and Detective Stanz, when Gus's snitch said, "I guarantee you'll never get the name of the murderer, either from me or anyone else."

"Brady's protected," Jack said to Paull. "You're protecting a serial murderer, a kidnapper."