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She washed her hands, thoroughly, then pressed a damp paper towel to her face. When she came out of the rest room, she saw Clete Armbruster approaching the entrance. She met him at the door.

"Senator Armbruster." It suddenly occurred to her that she hadn't rehearsed what she would say. He was an intimidating man under any circumstances. She certainly didn't welcome being the one to tell him that his daughter was dead. "Thank you for coming," she said lamely.

"Young lady, you'd better have a damn good reason for getting me up in the middle of the night," he said, following her to the booth. "I wouldn't be here except-" He came to an abrupt halt when he saw Gray Bondurant.

Gray stood up. "Clete, it's been a while."

The senator was not pleased to see him. Obviously he didn't hold Gray in the highest esteem, and it was easy to guess why. A father would naturally resent a man who had damaged his daughter's honor, especially if she also happened to be the First Lady of the United States, where more than personal virtue was at stake.

"Bondurant." He ignored the hand that Gray extended. "What are you doing here?" He turned to Barrie. "Is this the big surprise you hinted at, thèmatter of utmost importance'?"

"Please sit down, Senator. Give us a chance to explain. Would you like some coffee?"

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"No." He took one side of the booth; Barrie and Gray shared the bench across from him. Drawing a bead on Gray, he remarked, "You're a long way from Montana."

"It's Wyoming, and I'm not here because I want to be."

"I've never known you to do anything you didn't want to."

"He's here because he believes lives are at risk," Barrie said. "As do L"

Armbruster's eyebrows shot up comically. "Really? Whose? Justice Green's?"

His ridicule stung, but she kept her cool. "You may not have much confidence in my credibility," she said, "but what I'm about to tell you is the unvarnished truth. You can draw your own conclusions. Agreed?" "I'm interested in what you have to say only to the extent that it involves my daughter."

Barrie took a moment to arrange her thoughts. "Senator, I don't think your grandson's death was accidental. I believe he was murdered, probably smothered so his breathing would be interrupted and it would look like SIDS."

Armbruster looked at her incredulously. "What are you implying, young lady? If you're suggesting that Vanessa-"

"David killed him," Gray interrupted, cutting to the chase.

Remaining perfectly still, only the senator's eyes moved, springing back and forth between them. After a moment, he leaned forward across the table and hissed, "Are you insane?"

"No," Gray replied calmly. "David killed Vanessa's baby because he didn't father him."

"That's a goddamn lie!" Armbruster protested, but keeping his voice low.

"You're the last one to make moral judgments against my daughter, Bondurant. You slandering son of a bitch, I ought to shoot you right here, right now."

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Gray's face grew taut. "David did not father Vanessa's baby. He couldn't have. He had a vasectomy. Years ago."

Barrie was as astonished as the senator by that piece of news. Gray disregarded her soft exclamation and concentrated solely on Armbruster.

"Nobody knew about it, Clete. Not even Vanessa. Especially Vanessa. For years she tried everything to conceive, and the bastard let her, knowing full well that it would never happen. He took a perverse pleasure in watching her unravel every month when she got her period."

Barrie stared at Gray's profile. She had already determined that he was a complex individual, but she was beginning to wonder exactly how many facets there were to him. Just when she thought she'd seen all of them, another was turned to the light.

"David Merritt never underwent a vasectomy or I would have known about it," the senator said. "You're lying."

"I don't care whether you believe me or not, Clete. I'm telling you the way it is. David couldn't father a child, but Vanessa didn't know that until after she got pregnant and told him."

Clete continued to glare mistrustfully, but Barrie detected a chink in his hostility. "How do you know all this?" he asked.

"Vanessa called and told me."

That news flash took Barrie aback. She had assumed that once Gray retired to Wyoming, he'd had no further contact with Vanessa. Apparently the senator also had been under that impression. He appeared as surprised as she.

"She called me crying," Gray continued. "She asked me what she should do."

"So the baby was yours," Armbruster said.

"That isn't the issue."

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"The hell it isn't!"

The two men glared at each other, Armbruster with accusation, Gray with defiance. Finally he said, "Do you want to hear the rest of this or not?"

Armbruster made an impatient motion with his hand.

"Despite everything you saw in the media," Gray said, casting a glance in Barrie's direction, "David went ballistic when Vanessa told him she was pregnant, because that confirmed the gossip of an affair with me. You know how David takes offense at the merest slight, so you can imagine what that scene must have been like for Vanessa.

"Jesus." Gray sighed, shaking his head. "He put her through sheer hell every day of those nine months. David had no choice except to go along with all the fanfare, but he was only biding his time."

The senator's wide shoulders had slumped forward. Apparently he was giving Gray's story some credibility.

Barrie was the first to break the sudden, heavy silence. "Why didn't the President have George Allan perform an abortion?"

"I was wondering that myself," Armbruster said.

"Because an abortion wouldn't have been painful enough for her," Gray replied without hesitation. "I think David wanted to punish her for her infidelity. I think the worst punishment he could devise was to let her carry the child, give birth to it, come to love it, perhaps even relax her vigilance over it. When she did, he meted out his punishment, in spades.

And since Vanessa witnessed the murder, he..."

Barrie realized that he couldn't bring himself to tell the senator what must be told. She turned to the older man. "Mrs. Merritt contacted me for a reason. I believe she was trying to signal danger."

"Danger?"

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"For herself. Because she knows of the President's crime." Barrie looked at him sympathetically. "I called you tonight, Senator, because we believe that the President has . . . has made it impossible for her to testify to his criminal act."

"Made it impossible?" he repeated. "What do you mean?"

Barrie inclined her head toward the hospital. Armbruster looked through the plate glass. It reflected the interior of the diner, including their somber images. "She was taken there by ambulance about two hours ago," she said.

"From George Allan's house?"

She nodded. "We followed them."

Armbruster no longer looked like the powerful, brash, authority-wielding statesman he was. He looked like a father who'd just heard terrible news about his only child. In the last few moments, his face seemed to have lost its battle with gravity. Lines appeared more deeply etched, folds of flesh sagged more heavily. His voice was weak, laden with denial. "I was in that house only a few days ago."

"Did you actually see Vanessa?" Gray asked.

When the senator shook his head, the loose skin beneath his chin wobbled.

"George told me she was resting and didn't want to be disturbed, even by me. He assured me that rest is all she needs."

"Clete," Gray said patiently, "George will do anything David tells him to, just as he did the night David killed the baby."

"But the Secret Service is there to protect her."

"They couldn't protect your grandson. Believe me, David has planned this meticulously-with Spence's help, I'm sure. Vanessa takes a lot of medication. He'll probably use that. If she succumbed--"

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"Succumbed?" Armbruster repeated. "Are you saying . . ." His eyes darted from Gray to Barrie.

Later, Barrie couldn't remember leaving the diner and jogging the short distance to the emergency room entrance. The Secret Service agents were nowhere in sight. The nurse on duty at the reception desk asked pleasantly if she could help them.

The senator didn't even glance in her direction. He marched through a pair of automatic doors, with Barrie and Gray close on his heels. Dr. George Allan was leaning against the wall at the far end of the corridor. He looked no calmer than he had when he'd accompanied Vanessa's body into the hospital. When he glanced up and saw Armbruster, Barrie, and Gray bearing down on him, his face turned the color of putty.

"Senator Armbruster, what . . . what are you doing here?"

"Where's my daughter?" He looked at the door behind the doctor. "Is she in there?"

"No."

"You lying bastard." He pushed the doctor aside, but George Allan grabbed his sleeve.

"Senator, please. I can't let you go in. Not until the medical examiner sees her."

Armbruster made a choking sound like a sob. Gray grabbed the doctor's lapels and shoved him against the wall. "You weasel shit. They'll fry you for this-if I don't kill you first."

Alerted to a crisis situation, hospital personnel had collected at the end of the corridor, but not even the chief security guard was brave enough to intervene.

Armbruster opened the door that Dr. Allan had been guarding, but he drew up short on the threshold, then he fell back against the doorjamb, grasping on to it for support.

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Across the room, against the wall, was the gurney. The security straps had been removed. The still form had been draped in a blue sheet.

"Oh, Jesus." His voice sounded like rending cloth.

He pushed himself away from the door and trudged across the tile floor.

Barrie and Gray were on either side of him, ready to lend support. George Allan came into the room. His vehement protests went unheeded.

When they reached the gurney, the senator simply stood there gazing down at the blue sheet, his large hands hanging heavily at his sides.

"Clete?" Gray said.

The senator nodded. Gray picked up two corners of the sheet and pulled it back.

A gasp went up as they stared down into the face of the cadaver, into the face of Jayne Gaston, R.N.

"gayne Gaston was the private nurse hired by George Allan to care for Vanessa while she was in seclusion at Highpoint." Barrie lay on her back on the cot on which Cronkite had taken his naps when she'd brought him to Daily's house. She was bringing Daily current on last night's events. "By the way, thanks for not turning me out," she said.

"Where else would you go?"

"Exactly my point. I'm a pariah. If I were a leper, I couldn't be more aggressively avoided. Maybe I should tie a bell around my neck to warn people that I'm coming down the street."

"That's not very funny," Daily said sourly.

"I didn't think so either." Her voice was thick with unshed tears.

"Anyway, back to last night. Apparently Jayne Gaston suffered cardiac arrest yesterday afternoon at Dr. Allan's Highpoint home. He attempted to revive her, but to no avail."

For a time, Daily's wheezing was the only sound in the small, cluttered room. Scattered about were the few purchases Barrie had made since the demolition of her home.

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Most of the clothing was still in shopping bags. Daily sat at the end of the cot, Barrie's stocking feet resting on his thighs. He was giving her an uninspired foot massage.

"If the nurse died in the afternoon, why'd they wait till after dark to remove the body?" he asked.

"Dr. Allan had to arrange for Vanessa's transport back to Washington. He wanted to shield her from the trauma of Mrs. Gaston's death. A helicopter was dispatched to return her to the White House, but by then she'd learned about Mrs. Gaston. She was inconsolable. According to the doctor, the two had formed quite an attachment.

"Then, Mrs. Gaston's next of kin, a son who lives here in the city, couldn't be located immediately. Dr. Allan didn't want to arrive at the hospital with her body before the son was notified."

"But that happens all the time."

"But not when the deceased is the First Lady's private nurse. Dr. Allan was afraid the story would be leaked and get out over the airwaves before the son could be reached. He wasn't too far off."

"I guess that makes sense," Daily muttered. "Seems a thin excuse, though, if you ask me."

"Well, anyway, Dr. Allan waited to call the ambulance until he felt he couldn't wait any longer. Gray and I happened to see the motorcade on the road. We followed it. When we saw the dead body . . ." She sighed. "You drew a conclusion based on supposition instead of fact."

"Rub it in, why don't you?"

"I can't believe you actually called Armbruster to the scene."

"Believe it. Armbruster, and a WVUE cameraman whose timing was excellent.

He showed up seconds after my dreadful mistake was discovered. He recorded for posterity

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my astonishment and Gray's, Armbruster's near-collapse, and the arrival of Ralph Gaston, Jr., the deceased's son, who not only was dealt the blow of his mother's death but was plunged into the tumultuous aftermath of my snafu.

"Some sadistic individual on the hospital staff notified the local press, which in turn . . . Well, you know the denouement. We created headlines.

Thank God the story was killed before the networks got there. I absconded with the only videotape of the event."

She paused to blot her eyes and blow her nose. She'd been weepy ever since the tongue-lashing she'd received from Senator Armbruster. Impervious to eavesdroppers, he'd lambasted her for making a goddamn fool of herself and, worse, of him. She ought to be horsewhipped for scaring him like that, he'd said, and warned that she was going to pay for her unforgivable, inexcusable, and unprofessional behavior. Having no doubt that he meant every word, Barrie had taken his warning to heart.