The urgency in his voice told her she’d made the right decision by not delaying this call. Her letter had obviously been found, but no one at the White House could be certain she hadn’t written it under duress, and she didn’t want to raise more of an alarm than she had to.

“I’m fine. Never been better. And the letter’s genuine, Mr. President. Nobody was holding a gun to my head.”

“John is frantic. How could you do this to him?”

She’d been expecting this. Every member of the President’s family was given a code to use in the event they were being coerced in any way. If she uttered a sentence with the name John North in it, the President would know she’d been taken against her will.

“This has nothing to do with him,” she replied.

“Who?” He was giving her another chance.

“I’m not being coerced,” she said.

He finally seemed to realize she had done this of her own free will, and his anger crackled over the line. “Your letter is filled with rubbish. Your father’s frantic.”

“Just tell him I’m taking some time to myself. I’ll call in occasionally so you know I’m all right.”

“You can’t do this! You can’t just disappear. Listen to me, Cornelia. You have responsibilities, and you need Secret Service. You’re the First Lady.”

It was useless to argue with him. For months she’d been telling both him and her father that she needed a break and had to get away from the White House, but neither would listen. “You should be able to hold the press off for a while by having Maureen announce that I’ve got the flu. I’ll call again in a few days.”

“Wait! This is dangerous! You have to have Secret Service. You can’t possibly—”

“Good-bye, Mr. President.”

She hung up on the most powerful man in the free world.

As she walked back to the car, she had to force herself not to run. Her polyester dress seemed to be permanently glued to her skin, and the legs beneath her elastic stockings no longer felt as if they belonged to her. Breathe, she told herself. Just breathe. She had too much to do to fall apart.

Her scalp itched as she turned back onto the highway. She wished she could take off the wig, but that had to wait until she’d purchased her new disguise.

It didn’t take her long to find the Wal-Mart she’d located last week through the Internet yellow pages. She’d only been able to escape with what fit into her purse, and now it was time to do some serious shopping.