seemed to attach to their meeting.
"Thanks for calling," she said. "Can you meet me at the Pennsylvania Avenue Caribou Coffee at seven-thirty?"
His meeting with the lawyers wasn't until nine-thirty. "What's this about?"
"Can't discuss it on the phone. We have to meet."
She made it sound as though they really did have to meet.
"Sure, I'll see you there," he said.
Jack did his best to be on time, but he had so much on his mind that he walked right past the coffee shop without even realizing it. Paulette was on her second cup by the time he doubled back and apologized for being late, but she thanked him just for showing up. Either she was the nicest journalist he'd ever met, or she really wanted something from him.
"I enjoy your coverage of the White House," he said.
"Thank you. Let's hope that doesn't change."
She was smiling when she said it, showing Jack a warmth that seemed more genuine than her television personality. She was prettier in real life, too. Less makeup.
"I saw the e-mail you got on Sunday," said Paulette.
"Really? That hasn't been made public."
"I'm a Washington reporter. I see lots of things that haven't been made public."
"I'm sorry, but I can't discuss it with you."
"That's fine. I've already promised the FBI that I wouldn't go on the air with it."
"A journalist with self-restraint is a good thing," said Jack, "at least until the FBI has a better handle on the threat against the president."
"Nor do I want to jeopardize the investigation into my sister's murder."
Jack paused. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize. When did that happen?"
"Saturday night. She was shot at a bus stop here in the district a few hours before you got your e-mail."
"Are you saying there's a connection?"
She took her iPhone from her purse, pulled up an image on the screen, and slid the phone across the table to him. "You tell me."
"What is this?"
"It's a picture I took of Chloe's e-mail inbox on Sunday morning, right before the FBI came to her apartment with a warrant and took away her computer. Look at the subject line for the message third from the bottom."
Jack didn't have his e-mail memorized, but Chloe's message--"I can bring down Keyes. No Bullshit. Meet me at . . --was so similar to his message--"J can make your father president. No bullshit. Meet me"--that it triggered perfect recollection.
"Eerie, isn't it?" said Paulette.
"What did the full message say?"
"The FBI won't show it to me, and I'm still working on a source to leak it."
"I'm not your source."
"Don't need one yet. When I do, I'll let you know. You'll come around."
Jack wasn't sure if she was kidding, serious, or somewhere in between. He took another look at the photograph.
"I need some context here. Why would your sister get an e-mail like this?"
She began with a sigh, and Jack listened to the compressed version of what he knew was a much longer story. Juxtaposed with Chloe's most recent job at the Inquiring Star, her work for Vice President Grayson as a White House intern jumped out most for him.
"Why did she get fired?"
"They said she got caught with a joint in her purse."
"You sound skeptical."
"Chloe always denied it was hers. Claimed somebody planted it on her. I didn't believe her. Now, I'm not so sure."
"What changed?"
"As I'm sure you can imagine, Chloe was kind of an embarrassment for me around the White House."
"Because she got fired?"
"That. And the rumors."
"What rumors?"
Paulette smiled thinly. "We're here."
"Here--where?"
"That place I mentioned earlier. Where you trust me enough to be my source."
"Your source on what?"
"These threats, if more come in. The investigation, if there are any breaks into who sent the e-mail you already received."
"And why would I be your source?"
"Because I'm not coming to you as a journalist. I just want to find out what happened to my sister. And because I can tell you things that you couldn't possibly have learned in just two days at the White House. All you have to do is trust
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