Pursuit by Karen Robards Read Free Book Online Page A

I’m not taking any damned pill,” the President snapped.
    “But sir . . .”
    Except for his dinner jacket, David Cooper was still dressed up in the tux he’d worn to wine and dine the president of Chile. His shoes rested on the tufted gold bedspread of a bed that had not yet been turned down. John Downes, the President’s personal physician, leaned over him, his back to Mark. Leonard Cowan, his valet, hovered on the far side of the bed, a tray holding what appeared to be the President’s favored scotch and soda in his hands.
    “Here’s Ryan,” Lowell announced.
    The President sat up. All eyes focused on Mark. All conversation suspended. Taking a deep breath, he felt his jaw tighten and hoped to hell it was the only outward sign of tension they could see.
    “God in heaven, you want to tell us how this terrible thing happened?” Wayne Cooper’s booming voice was punctuated by an audible clink as he put his glass down on the marble mantel.
    “I can’t answer that yet, sir.”
    “Well, by damn . . .”
    “Dad, everyone, could you excuse us a minute, please?” His customary courtesy back in place despite the slight wobble that was barely detectable in his voice, David Cooper swung his legs over the side of the bed. His face was haggard, his skin pale, his eyes red. Meeting his gaze, Mark felt the knot in his gut twist tighter.
    The zinger was, David Cooper had loved his wife.
    My watch.
    “Davey . . .” Wayne protested. Anguish over his son’s obvious pain quivered in his voice.
    “Please,” the President said again. Wayne Cooper frowned, but he, like everyone else, slowly filed out. The click of the door closing behind them was loud as a gunshot to Mark’s ears.
    The President came to his feet. Their eyes met. It was all Mark could do not to flinch at the accusation he saw in the other man’s face.
    “I trusted you, Mark. You knew what was going on with her. You were supposed to watch her. You were supposed to keep her safe.”
    Making excuses wasn’t his style, so Mark didn’t. “I’m sorry, Mr. President.”
    Cooper took a hasty turn about the room. Watching him, Mark felt a burning inside his chest. He knew what it was like to love a woman who didn’t give a shit about you. It hurt like hell. Right at that moment, his sympathies were with David Cooper.
    The President stopped in front of him, ran his hands through his hair. “Just tell me this: Was she out there trying to score drugs?”
    The million-dollar question.
    “I don’t know. Maybe.” Mark withdrew the artificial sweetener bottle from his pocket and held it out. “I went to the crash site. This was in her purse. Along with a roll of cash and some credit cards.”
    Since the First Lady almost never carried cash, the implication was plain: A drug rendezvous was a definite possibility. The credit cards—who the hell knew what was up with the credit cards? He hadn’t had time yet to even begin to think that through. Although as far as he knew, drug dealers still didn’t accept them.
    Sucking in his breath, the President took the bottle and stared down at it. “Damned pills.” Then he looked up at Mark. His eyes were dark with pain. “This can never get out. Her reputation . . .” His mouth shook, and then his face crumpled like a collapsing building. “Oh my God, my God, I can’t believe this has happened. I can’t believe she’s dead. Annette . . .”
    His voice spiraled into a ragged wail. Even as the door burst open and the room filled with people and he was nearly shoved back out into the hall, Mark could not escape the terrible sounds of the President’s keening. Again, he felt a stab of guilt.
    My watch.
    Lowell caught up to him as he headed for the elevator.
    “That woman.” Falling in beside him, Lowell glanced all around as if to make sure no one was close enough to overhear. “The woman who was in the car. The one who survived.”
    They were in the foyer now, walking fast past a group of new arrivals being