Not wanting to disturb her while she talked with our pastry chef, I began to back out of the room.

“Just a moment, Ollie,” she said, holding up a finger. “If you don’t mind.”

What could I do? I mumbled acknowledgment and stood near the door to the cross hall, watching.

Mrs. Campbell took a few long moments to study the frivolous yet inspiring details worked into the piece. She smiled, but I thought it a sad smile. “At a time like this, it is good to be reminded of beauty. I am humbled by your talent, Marcel.”

Marcel gave a little bow. “You honor me, madame.”

“Thank you,” she said, in a near-breathless voice. Nodding to Yi-im, she made her way to me and guided us both into the cross hall. She didn’t stop there, however, instead waiting until we were in the center of the Entrance Hall to talk.

“Would it be too much trouble to arrange for a dinner tomorrow evening?” she asked.

“Of course not,” I said quickly. When the First Lady asks for anything, the answer is always an enthusiastic yes. “For how many?”

“Four,” she said. “My colleagues Nick Volkov, Senator Blanchard, and Helen Hendrickson will be joining me here.”

I opened my mouth to say something, thought better of it, and clammed up again.

Mrs. Campbell blinked moist eyes. “You have been privy to a great deal of information lately,” she said. “I apologize for that. I sense your apprehension.”

“It’s not my place…”

“Perhaps not, Ollie, but I plan to get this matter settled once and for all.”

I couldn’t stop myself this time. “Have you decided to sell?” Horrified that the question popped out, I raised my hand to my mouth. “Sorry.”

She didn’t appear to get angry. Rather she smiled, then sighed, deeply, looking away, as though speaking to herself-convincing herself of what she planned to say to her three friends. “No matter what they tell me, I can’t believe Sean took his own life. I also cannot believe that he gave me bad advice. I trusted Sean.” She met my eyes again. “I can’t make such a monumental decision with so much that hasn’t been explained.”

I hesitated, but knew that if I didn’t speak up now, I’d be sorry later. “I have a letter,” I said, “from Sean.”

My words puzzled her. “What are you talking about?” she asked. “He sent you something? When?”

“He left it for me, on my computer,” I said, explaining how I’d found it, and what the letter had said. I finished by adding that I was also convinced that the letter’s tone was such that I couldn’t imagine Sean taking his life either.

“Where is it?” she asked.

“I still have it on my computer,” I said, pointing down toward the kitchen. “But I gave a copy of it to Special Agent-In-Charge Gavin.”

She considered that. “Would you please make a copy for me?”

“Of course,” I said, starting for the stairs. “I’ll do that right now.”

“I’ll come with you.”

Everyone in the kitchen stopped what they were doing to welcome the First Lady. Her visit wasn’t completely without precedent, but it wasn’t the norm. “Thank you,” she said, with her characteristic grace. “I won’t be in your way for very long. Ollie has something of importance to share with me, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

When her back was turned, Bucky’s eyes rolled so far up into his head I thought he might be on the verge of collapse. I warned him with a glare.

Mrs. Campbell took time to speak with Cyan, Rafe, and Agda while I pulled up my files. Bucky whispered close: “Always nice to cozy up to the First Family, isn’t it? Lots of perks can come your way when you’re buddy-buddy with the boss.”

“Back off,” I said.

He did, but took a long moment to stare at me. I couldn’t tell what crazy thoughts danced behind those murky eyes. I could tell he’d been surprised by my sharp retort, but I wasn’t sure if the added emotion was amusement or fury. And I didn’t have time to bother.

As I clicked at my keyboard, my stomach jittered. What if it had been deleted? Or what if someone else had come across Sean’s letter and modified it? I eyed Bucky, who I discovered was eyeing me back. It would be just like him to think he was funny by messing with my stuff-and I remembered Sean’s concerns about Bucky being annoyed with him for accessing my computer.

My head pounded with worry and potential embarrassment as I pulled up a list of recent documents. Even as I rationalized that a true copy still existed-with Gav-I worried that this one would be gone and I’d be the laughingstock once again. After the bomb incident-the bomb that everyone believed was fake, but I knew to be real-even I thought I was starting to sound like Chicken Little.

“Come on,” I whispered, urging the computer to move faster. I double-clicked on the file, exasperated when I was rewarded by the little hourglass that warned me to wait.

The computer made that unwelcome and not-very-nice sound when it can’t find what it’s looking for.

“No,” I said, softly.

Cyan broke away from the First Lady. “Are you looking for what I think you’re looking for?”

Her eyes today were amber brown. I stared into them. “It’s not here.”

“Hang on.” She leaned in to where I was working and commandeered the mouse. She double-clicked on a file titled “YEO” and then typed in a password when prompted. Winking at me, she whispered, “Buckminster.” Bucky’s full name. Good choice, I thought.

A split second later, Sean’s document was on the screen.

“There,” she said.

Amazed by her foresight, I thanked her. “YEO?” I asked.

“Stands for ‘Your Eyes Only.’ In my culinary school, students were always trying to steal one another’s ideas. I learned to password-protect early.” With a shrug, she started back toward the counter, but leaned forward to add, “I thought this one was worth protecting.”

“You’re good,” I said, clicking the command to print.

“Just watching your back.”

Mrs. Campbell continued talking with the other chefs as I pulled Sean’s letter from the printer. When I had it in hand, she turned to me. “A moment, Ollie?”

We walked out across the Center Hall into the Map Room, where Mrs. Campbell read the letter. I would have preferred to allow her to read it by herself, but she asked me to stay when I offered to give her privacy.

When she looked up, her eyes were shining. “Thank you,” she said. “I know just what to do with this.”

“You know that Gav has a copy, too?”

She smiled. “I’m certain he’s doing the best he can. But one of the benefits of my position is that it allows me to cut through red tape when I need to. You have done me a great favor, Ollie. And you’ve done the president a great favor as well.”

I felt myself blush.

“I know you have a lot to do, so I won’t keep you longer, but I want you to know that my husband and I appreciate all you do for us.” She looked down at the letter, then up at me. “Today… and every day.”

ON MY RIDE HOME, I STAYED HYPER-ALERT FOR any sign that I was being followed-any hint that people were out to get me. Today’s stand-down on the reception, however, meant that our work load lessened and my commute home was at a more busy time than when I’d been attacked. It was getting dark, but it wasn’t terribly late. There were people everywhere-and so many on the Metro that I had to stand for part of the trip. I didn’t mind. Oblivious humanity provided a degree of comfort.

I reached into my replacement purse and smiled. How appropriate, I thought-the chef carrying pepper spray to defend herself. After my last altercation, I realized I needed to take a more proactive approach to guarding my safety.

I had to admit that I didn’t expect to be attacked again, but what I really didn’t expect was a reporter outside my apartment building. I didn’t realize at first that the woman sitting alone in an idling Honda Civic was waiting for me.