Determann clapped Sean on the back. “This guy represented me in my divorce. Unknown to me, my ex was a cokehead who burned through my savings, cheated on me with the UPS driver, and actually had the nerve to poison my goldfish. And she still wanted half of everything I had when I caught on and filed to kick her out of my life. By the time Sean was done with old Ursula she got zip. I even got her dog. Which was a good thing, because he always liked me better anyway.”
“I think Marty is exaggerating my accomplishments, but even though he sometimes stretches the truth, he’s a helluva reporter.”
“But still looking for that first Pulitzer.” He eyed the large and packed accordion file Sean had beside him on the seat. “Is it in there?”
“You’re going to find out soon enough.”
They got to the room. Sean closed the door behind them, took off his coat, and said, “Let’s get to it.”
They methodically went through all the photos that Michelle had taken at Atlee as they filled Determann in on everything they had found out, from the AWOL report to the story Quarry had built on the walls in the basement to their near deaths in the mines.
When they got to the part about the First Lady burning down the house and killing Ruth Ann, Determann said, “You’re screwing with me!”
“I wish we were.”
Sean also showed him all the files he’d taken from Atlee that contained some of the background details on Quarry’s hunt for justice.
Determann took copious notes and asked many questions. They ran out for coffee and drank it down as the hours drifted by. As the sun came up they went out for some more caffeine and breakfast at a restaurant in Old Town. While eating they kept going through it as the smooth waters of the Potomac sat in front of them and a jet lifted off from the nearby airport and soared across the sky. Back in the room they endured too much secondhand puff from the chain-smoking reporter and kept plowing through what they had learned and also what they suspected. By the time they were done the sun was high in the sky and it was past time for lunch.
Determann sat back and stretched. “Can I tell you that this is the most amazing shit that I have ever heard?”
“Don’t suck up,” said Sean in a joking tone. “It’s unseemly.”
“No, really, I mean this makes Watergate and Monicagate look like teepeeing a yard after a high school football game.”
“So you believe us?” asked Michelle.
“Believe you? Who could’ve made this stuff up?” He motioned to the photos and pages of notes spread over the table. “And it’s not like it doesn’t come without proof.”
He lit another cigarette. “But what I don’t get is, why kidnap Willa? I mean, she is the niece and all, but how could they be sure that the president would go along? It wasn’t his kid after all. No one could really blame him if he’d ducked that one.”
Sean pulled out another file he’d taken from Quarry’s records. They had purposefully withheld this part of the story from the reporter until he’d asked that question.
“These are the results of DNA tests that Quarry had done. These on Pam and Willa Dutton’s blood. And then this one on Diane Wright. Quarry penciled in the names under each test result.”
“Diane Wright a.k.a. Diane Wohl,” said Determann, who had proven a quick study, and had a strong command of the story and principal players already.
“Right.”
“But why a DNA test?”
“It shows that Diane is Willa’s mother and Pam isn’t.”
Determann took the papers and studied them. “Call me stupid, but I’m not following you, Sean.”
Sean explained about what had happened in that back alley in Georgia nearly thirteen years ago, the first time he’d told anyone other than Michelle. Loyalty to Jane Cox had caused him to keep his silence. However, loyalty had its limits and he had reached his with the First Lady. He had told Sam Quarry back in that mine that he wanted to help the truth come out if he let Willa go. The man had kept his part of the bargain, and while Sean had initially decided to keep quiet, after he’d found out what the First Lady had done at Atlee he intended to honor his promise to the dead man.
Determann sat back and took off his glasses. “Then Senator Cox with Diane Wright on top? Nine months later out pops Willa? She’s his kid? Jesus. And then what he did earlier to Tippi Quarry? What a prick!”
“That’s exactly the part of his anatomy that he couldn’t seem to control,” pointed out Michelle.
Sean picked up a photo that showed the image of a sour-looking man in his late forties. “And Quarry found out that Jane Cox knew the butcher who performed the abortion on Tippi and ended up cutting into an artery. The police found her in the basement of an abandoned building, probably where the scum dumped her after he realized what he’d done. He’d lost his license to practice medicine because of drug and booze problems, but he was still open for business for his old friends.”
“And no regular doc or hospital because Tippi might spill what had happened? Or people might start asking inconvenient questions?”
“Exactly.”
Determann sat forward and studied the papers. “But no one checked the president’s DNA?”