“Yet he accepts shipments of food every day from unknown sources, and that needs to stop.”

“Agreed. You should see to it immediately.” She rose and opened the door to beckon Mr. LaFontaine inside. “Mr. Trask will see you now,” she said while gliding away, knowing Nathaniel was too discreet to haul her back in front of witnesses.

She’d won a reprieve, but he would surely come after her again.

Nine

Nathaniel had learned long ago that sometimes prayers worked, but sometimes they seemed to go unanswered. Ever since accepting the White House job, he’d been praying for his nightmares about Molly to fade, and they had—but only to be replaced by a dull, grinding unease that was always present.

Heat and sun pounded down on him as he crossed Fifteenth Street to the Treasury Building, anxious to get this meeting with John Wilkie over with and get back on duty.

His pathetically small budget meant he had to clear all additional expenditures through Wilkie. Anything involving the president required public scrutiny. Penny pinchers questioned everything spent on the president, from the price of wine served at state dinners to the guards who protected him. During the last administration, President Cleveland’s wife had created a scandal when she requested guards during a summer trip to their New York home. It didn’t matter that the president’s young children had been the target of kidnapping rumors. When the Cleveland family was on vacation, Congress decreed the public should not pay for security.

Those days were mercifully over, but Nathaniel still had to account for every penny, and today’s request was odd.

“I want Caroline Delacroix to be tailed,” he said the moment he sat across from Wilkie’s desk. Everyone else working in the White House had spotless reputations, but Caroline made him uneasy. He didn’t like the idea of spying on her, but it had to be done.

Wilkie didn’t bat an eyelash. “Why?”

“She’s met with a criminal attorney and refuses to tell me why. I can find no blemish on her reputation, but her refusal to be forthcoming is troublesome. The first lady has become unusually dependent on her, and it worries me.”

“Consider it done,” Wilkie said. “I’ll arrange for surveillance and report anything I find to you.”

“Thank you.” Now for the more difficult request. Everything about being responsible for the safety of the president reawakened the grief over Nathaniel’s deepest failing. He’d agreed to the presidential assignment on a short-term basis, and the time was up.

“I’ve done as you asked and designed a solid security plan for the White House, but you need to find someone else to lead this team.”

Wilkie reached for an unlit cigar, slowly tapping and rotating it on the desk. “I wouldn’t have appointed you if I didn’t think you were the best man for the job.”