Page 139 of The First Gentleman

CHAPTER 135

Washington, DC

I have to see Burton Pearce in person.

I spend the drive south formulating a plan to intercept him, but in the end, all it takes is a phone call.

When I arrive in DC, I pull out my phone, scroll to Burton Pearce’s number, and dial.

It rings. Once… twice…

“Ms. Cooke, I’m guessing this is not a sympathy call regarding the verdict against the First Gentleman. Whatever the reason, is it important?”

I wait a beat.

“Was Eva Clarke important?”

A long pause.

Then he says, his voice low and intense: “What are you after, Ms. Cooke?”

“I’m after the truth. Just like Garrett Wilson was.”

“You have no idea what you’re doing.”

“Prove it. Meet me. I’m in DC and I’d be happy to come to your house. I have the address right here. Or I’ll come to the White House—”

“Don’t be stupid. Meet me at Montrose Park near Georgetown in thirty minutes.”

“Where in Montrose Park? You need to be more specific.”

“The Rittenhouse memorial. There’s a bench nearby.”

He sounds worried.

Good.

He should be.