“So, to be clear, you’re saying that you’re not going to report a crime that happened tonight just so we can keep working on our book.”

“Right,” says Garrett. “Something like that.”

“And now, because that lowlife Seymour Washington is representing DeMarco, we have to work with him again?”

“Until we find another way to get DeMarco to spill what he knows.”

“Or what he says he knows.”

My phone rings. I don’t recognize the number. Probably the police checking in. “Hello?”

“Is this Brea Cooke?” A male voice. Crisp. No-nonsense.

“Who’s asking?”

“I’ve been trying to reach Garrett Wilson, but he’s not answering his phone.”

“Right. Again, who are you?”

A short pause, and then: “This is Burton Pearce.”

CHAPTER
43

Burton Pearce? The president’s chief of staff? He’s not calling from the White House number. I can’t imagine what this could be about—unless it has something to do with our investigation into Cole Wright?

I mute the phone. “It’s Burton fucking Pearce!”

“On the level?” asks Garrett. “Not some prank?”

A message pops up—Burton Pearce requesting a video call. We don’t really have a choice; we have to accept the call. Garrett nods, and I click on the video function. Two panels appear on the screen. Garrett and I are on the right. On the left, sure as shit, is Burton Pearce, the Gray Ghost himself. He’s sitting in an office chair with a bookcase in the background. Could be at the White House. Could be at his house. Could be anywhere.

“Hello, Mr. Pearce. I’m Garrett Wilson.”

“Pleasure to meet you both,” says Pearce in a low-key, disarming voice. Kind of friendly. Not the total hard-ass portrayed in the news. He pauses, squints at the screen. “Are you okay, Mr. Wilson? You look like you went a few rounds in the ring.”

“Fell in the driveway,” says Garrett.

“Sorry to hear that,” says Pearce. “Okay. It’s late. I’ll get right to the point. I understand that you two are running down some old stories about the First Gentleman and that you’re planning to write a book about your findings.”

“How would you know about our book?”

“You’ve made no secret of it to your interview subjects. I’m concerned about the facts you’re finding.”

I chime in. “Facts are all we’re after, sir.”

“Good,” says Pearce with a smile. “Glad to hear it. That’s where I can help you.”

“Help us?” says Garrett.

Pearce leans forward. His close-shaved, balding head practically fills the frame. “Ever since his days at Dartmouth, Cole Wright has been the victim of false rumors. I know. I was there with him.”

“Lived with him,” I add. “And with Madeline Parson, the future president, correct?”