“And I can’t sell my ship. Cancel the sale of the Pelican, and good luck tracking down my brother to settle those debts. Let me know when you’re ready to give me those three names, and I’ll pay them off.”

The glass in the door rattled as Gray slammed out of the office.

Caroline was the most likely person to know Luke’s private business. Gray didn’t have an appointment with her, but neither did the dozens of other people who walked up to the front door of the White House and knocked, asking for a chance to see inside. The president’s home was open to visitors every day until three o’clock, and Gray funneled in with the rest of them. A uniformed butler stood at the entrance to the East Room, an oversized chamber covered in embossed paper, gilt mirrors, and richly appointed furnishings.

Gray approached a footman. “I’d like to speak with Caroline Delacroix, secretary to the first lady. I’m her brother and need to speak with her on an urgent family matter.”

“Miss Delacroix is a very busy lady,” the footman said. “I’m not sure Mrs. McKinley can spare her.”

“Please inquire,” Gray asked. He wasn’t sure what had prompted this burning sense of urgency, for Luke wasn’t going anywhere, but if he was being blackmailed, Gray wanted to know.

The butler disappeared down a hallway, and Gray cooled his heels alongside the rest of the tourists gawking at the life-sized oil paintings and glittering chandeliers.

Caroline scurried into the room a few minutes later, her face tense with expectation and anxiety. “Any news?”

He shook his head, hating the disappointment that darkened her face. He wanted to protect Caroline, not pour more problems on her shoulders. “I need to speak with you privately,” he said.

She nodded and beckoned for him to follow her to a small waiting room near the back of the main floor. It was a windowless room but still decorated with a grandiose coffered ceiling and velvet-flocked wallpaper. Chairs lined the wall, but they didn’t bother to sit. The moment Caroline closed the door, she turned to him.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Who does Luke know in Philadelphia?”

She stilled. “Aside from the obvious? No one.”

“His bank account is overdrawn from checks written to three people in Philadelphia. I’m worried he was being blackmailed. Did he confide anything to you?”

She sank into a chair as though she didn’t have the strength to keep standing. “He’s still sending money to the families. He’s been doing it for years.”

“What?” he burst out. “I paid those people off long ago. Luke knows that!”

“Gray, I don’t think you have any idea how miserable Luke has been over what happened. It consumes him. He’s never stopped obsessing over it, and he’s been writing checks to those people ever since it happened.”