Chapter Nine
I guess I’d forgotten how grueling campaigning can be. We’ve been on a war-footing since last March, my reelection coffers filling nicely. No GOP or Independent front-runner has distinguished themselves yet, which works to my advantage.
I need to buckle up and ride this bitch, because it’s going to get a lot hairier before November.
As January arrives and we ramp up for Iowa in a few short weeks, Kevin, Leo, and I are ensconced in my office on Air Force One early this bitterly cold Wednesday morning. We’re winging on our way from Andrews to Los Angeles. There, I’m giving the keynote speech to an international meeting of scientists devoted to working on lowering global greenhouse gas emissions.
Because I don’t speak until nearly eight p.m. Pacific time, it means it’ll be a long damn day. I’m looking forward to escaping the icy grip Mother Nature’s had on the Eastern Seaboard for the last couple of weeks. There was an ice storm just north of the DC area last night, which fortunately didn’t impact our travel itinerary. I won’t be spending much time outside on this trip, but it’ll be nice seeing palm trees and sunny skies for a little while.
With the hotel already cleared and prepped by Secret Service, logistically it makes sense for me to go straight upstairs after my speech and spend the night in the large four-bedroom suite that the Secret Service has readied for me, Kev, and Leo. We’ll already be using it as a staging area before my speech.
I didn’t want to overnight there, but I have to be in Seattle on Friday morning for another speech, as well as a campaign appearance early that afternoon in Spokane. Rather than flying me back and forth across the country, I’ll stay out there. We’ll leave LA late tomorrow after I’ve made a few local appearances and give some interviews, I’ll overnight Thursday in Seattle at the same hotel where the speech will be held Friday morning, stop in Spokane on our way east Friday afternoon, and fly home to DC Friday evening after a quick stop in Iowa for a meet-and-greet with campaign donors.
I can’t argue with Kevin’s scheduling, even if he’d let me. It makes the most sense. It looks like we’re trying to be responsible stewards of the country’s tax dollars.
Plus, the whole “wasting money” thing. I mean, I know there will always be someone bitching about me traveling, no matter what the reason, but Kevin carefully manages the optics to keep our spending down in that area, and to make sure the info is released to the public where we do pay for stuff ourselves.
Hey, except for working trips to Camp David, I haven’t had a “vacation” in over two years. I’ve been too busy, have too much to do.
I can never admit Camp David actually works better for us, because I can ban the press during certain times and the three of us can curl up together in a private suite of rooms and pretend the outside world doesn’t exist.
Lauren stays behind for this trip, because there are a couple of key votes upcoming on the Hill, and we’re flying with a lighter-than-usual press contingent as a result. Lauren will most likely have to hold a press briefing or two in our absence, and it’ll be easier for her to do it there. She’s coordinating closely with Kev. Chris isn’t joining us on this trip because he has several appearances scheduled this week in the DC area, which tie in with my reelection campaign.
Which is fine. I’ve spent my entire adult life traveling, most of that alone—well, without a sleeping companion—so it’s nice to at least have Kev sharing my bed.
And without Lauren around, Kevin and I don’t have to be quite as careful as we normally are. Leo knows about us and is sworn to secrecy, actually helps us find time together and run interference for us.
There’s a knock on the office door, which surprises me. It’s rare we receive interruptions when we’ve asked for privacy.
When we are interrupted, it’s usually bad news, or at the very least urgent news.
Leo, Kev, and I all look up at each other at the same time Kev and Leo’s phones go off with a flurry of alerts.
When Kev glances at his, and his face transforms into Prophet’s blank mask as he stands and moves to answer the door, I know whatever it is is really bad. I look to Leo, who now also wears a mask after having checked his phone.
“What?” I ask.
But he ignores me, looking to Kevin, who now has his head stuck out the partially cracked door, listening to one of the Secret Service agents who are traveling aboard Air Force One with us.
When he closes the door and turns after snapping the lock, I need to know.
“Just tell me. What is it, and how bad is it?”
Kev takes a deep breath and walks over to me, setting his phone down on the desk first before he takes my hands and kisses them, pressing them to his chest as he looks me in the eyes.
“Charles and Tory ran off the road last night. Pennsylvania State Police found their car this morning upside down in a river at the bottom of an embankment.”
I…I can’t process this. “Charles and Tory? Are they—”
He shakes his head. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
“I…” Chris.
We have to get to back to Chris.
“He’s just been told,” Kev adds, already anticipating my next statement. “The kids are safe. They were at home. Shawna was with them. Charles and Tory went to a retirement party for Tory’s boss last night and never made it home. Shawna reported them missing to police at three a.m., when she couldn’t reach them by phone. There was rain that turned to ice and delayed the search until dawn. They had to get an emergency court order to ping their phones to track them.”
“We need to go back,” I say, still trying to…process this. “We have to be there for him.”
“I’m going to call him first,” Kev tells me, and when I start to argue, Kev switches into Prophet mode and pulls Sir rank on me. “I will call him first, girl,” he softly says.
He’s never pulled rank on me at “work” before. Never.
Then again, I suppose this isn’t work—it’s personal.
Due to the obvious logistics issues, I haven’t been able to spend much time with Chris’ brother and sister-in-law since I took office. When we got married, he explained to them the reason he didn’t tell them we were seeing each other was he wanted to protect their privacy. Considering he was Secret Service, and Charles had a background in military intelligence, they believed Chris.
We’ve had them, the kids, and Tory’s parents over to the White House for Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas every year since I took office, because it’s easier to bring them in than to take Chris and I elsewhere. We also bring them out for Fourth of July, so they can watch the fireworks with us from the roof of the White House. Little Hudson, especially, loves watching them.
It also means with them around that Kev can be a part of the holiday celebrations without raising eyebrows, even if Lauren isn’t there. We don’t have to leave him behind.
Kev eases me back into my chair and pulls his personal phone out of his pocket. We never use them for work. When we text or talk to each other for personal stuff, we always use Signal to help protect our conversations. Kev stands there next to me, waiting for the call to go through.
“Hey, Sir… She’s right here. They just told us… Yes, Sir. Okay. Love you… Here she is.” He holds the phone out to me.
I take it. “Love you, Sir.”
Chris’ sigh sounds bone-weary, ancient. “Love you, too, sweetheart.” That means he’s not alone and able to freely speak, or he’d be calling me ‘girl.’
“I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks. I’ve got Secret Service en route to their house right now. I want the kids protected.”
“What? Why?”
Another sigh. There’s a pause, then I hear the background noise change, like he’s closed a door.
When he speaks again, his voice is lower, barely audible. “Shae, it wasn’t an accident. This isn’t being released yet, so don’t tell anyone. It looks like they were deliberately run off the road. Troopers said there was paint transfer all along the driver’s side that can’t be accounted for any other way. Maybe it was meant to look like an accident, or maybe it was a hit-and-run, but it wasn’t just an accident. And the roads weren’t icy yet when the crash happened.”
“Oh, no!” Horror fills me. “Does Director Eisenthal need me to put in a request with Homeland Security?” They oversee the Secret Service.
“We’ll need one for continued coverage, yeah. Right now, it’s being treated as an active crime scene and investigation, so he could order agents in immediately.”
“Okay. I’ll call Sasha and have her issue that.”
“Thanks.”
I hate feeling…helpless. “We’ll come back and—”
“No.”
I blink. “What?”
“No, Shae. You need to go give the speech. If you want to fly back tonight after, and cancel Friday’s slate, okay, but do not cancel tonight. Put Kev on. Now.”
I automatically hand the phone over at his order. Kev takes it and steps to the far corner of the room, turned away from me. I can’t hear his side of the conversation other than the occasional, “Yes, Sir.”
When he turns back a moment later, there’s a grim determination on his expression. “We continue to LA. I’ll ask the organizers to move you to the six p.m. time slot. We were flying in anyway on Marine One, so traffic’s not an issue. That’ll get us home two hours earlier.”
I nod, still processing.
Kev slides his phone into his pocket and picks up his work phone, hits the button to silence it. “I’ll go address the press corps.”
“No,” I say, pulling myself to my feet. “I’ll do it.”
“Honey, Chris said—”
“Please. Let me make a comment. Then you can take over.”
I can see him mulling it over for a moment. “Okay. But let’s do it now. Do not say anything about it not being an accident.” He opens the door and speaks with the Secret Service agent again before we leave my office and head aft.
I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to how the military crew come to attention and salute me as I pass. I feel badly that I’m hurrying, but there are twin prongs in my mind vying for attention—I need to get home to my husband, and we need to get ahead of this story and control the optics.
I guess someone raced ahead of us and warned the press I was coming, because they’re ready for me and pounce almost at once, most of them shouting questions at me over each other.
Prophet takes charge, holding up his hands. “Hey! Knock it off!” he loudly scolds, and they all fall silent, not used to him speaking to them in that tone. Usually, Kev is all smiles and professionalism, even in the most chaotic of situations, but this is all my Sir in charge right now. “President Samuels has just been told what I’m sure you all are wanting to talk to her about. She wants to make a very brief statement, and then I’m taking over. No questions to the President.”
He stands aside, and I’m sure he wishes he could drape an arm around me and hold me, but can’t.
I’m well aware that I’m being filmed. I can also hear the sound of shutters clicking as still photos are taken.
“I’m not going to take any questions at this time,” I echo, “because I don’t have any details. My husband called me to let me know his brother, Major Charles Bruunt, and his sister-in-law, Dr. Tory Harris, died in an auto accident overnight. Their children were at home with their grandmother, and are safe. I’m going to ask you please respect our family’s privacy and allow us time to grieve.
“Lauren and Kevin will pass on details as we learn them, so please coordinate with Communications. My husband has specifically requested that I do not cancel the speech tonight. We’re going to ask if I can speak sooner in the evening. As soon as I finish, however, we will return to Air Force One and fly back to Andrews, so please plan accordingly. This will be a trying time for all of us as we deal with this. There will be some instances where I will need to hang back so the related…insanity of a president trying to go somewhere doesn’t compound the situation or cause undo grief for their other friends and family. I will let my husband and his family set the guidance on this. Thank you.”
I step back, slightly behind Kevin but where I can still see him in profile, and force myself not to wrap my arms around him from behind and rest my head against his back like I usually do when we’re alone.
Of course the press immediately tries to ask me questions en masse, but Kevin takes them in hand once more.
“Hey!” he yells, silencing the cabin. He wears a thunderous expression. “What’d I just tell you? I will make them land this plane in the middle of wherever the heck we are and kick every last one of you off if you don’t settle down right now.”
His angry outburst surprises me—and everyone else—until I pinpoint its source. It’s not on my behalf—it’s more because he can’t be at Chris’ side right now.
I know how he feels.
Only once he knows he has their undivided attention does he speak again. “We’ll do this in an orderly fashion, front to back. One at a time, no follow-ups. Pay attention—no repeat questions.” He points to the CNN reporter sitting directly in front of him. “Go.”
“Are there any indications this was anything other than an accident?”
“I don’t currently have any information stating that. You’d have to direct that question to Pennsylvania State Police investigators. It’s my understanding they’re the lead agency on this.”
He points to the woman seated next to the CNN reporter, who’s from MSNBC. “Go.”
“Kevin, regarding reports stating Secret Service agents are being mobilized and sent to their house—true or false?”
“True. As next-of-kin, Mr. Bruunt is now the children’s legal guardian, and he and President Samuels requested they immediately be placed under Secret Service protection as a matter of protocol and an overabundance of caution until Mr. Bruunt can be transported to be with them. Does not indicate anything other than that. As you all are well aware, Mr. Bruunt is retired Secret Service, and tends to diligently overthink things.” Even that slight joke about Christopher’s well-known intensity regarding security logistics and protocols doesn’t get the laughter it normally would.
He points to the BBC political reporter on the other side of the aisle. “Go.” It’s a reverse shotgun interview, with Kev in full command.
“Is it possible this could be related to Maj. Bruunt’s former career in military intelligence?”
“Answered in question one. Pay attention.” He moves on and points. “Next…”
Leo tries to edge me back to the presidential suite at the front of the plane, but I want to stay and hear this. I’ve always loved watching Kevin deal with the press. Considering he used to be one of them, he almost better than anyone knows how to handle them. Him and Lauren both. I can imagine she’s in a similar buzz saw mode with whoever’s in the pool at the White House, because she also doesn’t take any crap. I’m sure his approach right now has caught them all off-guard. I can see it in their faces when he slams the door on duplicate questions and moves on.
He ruthlessly proceeds, working through the entire press pool in less than five minutes and dropping the hammer on four other reporters who try to ask the “other motive” question in different ways, and three more who repeated other questions.
Kevin is in full-on Sir mode now, even if the press doesn’t know it. It’s breathtaking and makes me believe that, regardless what the next days and weeks bring, Chris and I will be okay with him watching out for and taking care of both of us.
His diligence.
His love.
I couldn’t have asked for a better chief of staff, and I definitely couldn’t have asked for a better Sir.
Kevin finishes and holds up his hands again. “I will come out and speak with you before we touch down in LA,” he says. “I will not answer the same question ten times, so get it out of your systems. This is a very trying time for the First Family, and I need you to show a little compassion for them.”
He turns, motioning for Leo to lead the way and placing a hand in the small of my back to get me moving.
It’s one of the few PDAs he’s ever engaged in with me when there are witnesses, especially press.
That he’s doing it now truly drives home how bad this really is.
Once we return to the office and it’s just the three of us, I turn on him. “Why won’t he let me come home?”
“Because Secret Service has assets deployed in LA and Washington State for your trip. If we change the plan this quickly, they won’t have time to recall and redeploy, that’s why. It’s already a logistics nightmare. Chris wasn’t supposed to leave DC, and now they need to not only plan a motorcade, they need to send more assets to protect the kids. You are the one variable we can control in this shitty situation, and we need to not pile extra stress onto Secret Service right now. Besides, if we cut the trip short after Chris has already stated he wants you to give tonight’s speech, it’ll tip people off even sooner that it’s not just an accident. Investigators need this time right now to do their job. We also need to rewrite the intro to your speech before we land.”
He’s switched gears on me so fast I almost can’t process it. “What?”
“Your speech. Intro. Rewrite. Now. And I’ll send Elliot out to Seattle and Spokane instead of you. Everything’s already set up and waiting, so might as well.” Away from the press, Kev’s expression looks haggard, exhausted, despite us getting a good night’s sleep last night, all three of us going to bed early and actually sleeping, for once.
I start to sit behind my desk when the tears hit.
I can’t be there for my husband.
My presence will actually make things worse for him right now.
Kev grabs a handful of tissues and squats next to my chair. “Sweetheart,” he whispers, “I need you to hold it together for me, okay? I can’t do what I need to do for both of you if you fall apart, too.”
I blow my nose, thankful I opted not to put on makeup this morning. I had thought I might even grab a quick catnap with Kev on the flight out. “This is bad, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. This is bad for you and Chris personally, but I think we just got you reelected.” He reaches up and tucks my hair behind my ear. “Do you hate me for that?”
I shake my head. “No, Sir,” I whisper. “I love you. I can’t hate you. You’re my Prophet, after all. I trust you to be honest with me.”
His smile looks sad, but I love him all the more for trying so hard. “I love you, too, girl. But I need you to trust me, and trust Sir. Don’t go POTUSing our plan. I’ll manage the optics for you.”
I nod, hating myself a little, except that’s all part of it, part of the price we’ve paid to get where we are right now.
We won’t know until after I’m eventually out of office whether or not it was a price worth paying.