Page 57 of The First Gentleman

CHAPTER 53

Seabrook, New Hampshire

S crew Reginald Hamilton!

If Nottingham won’t publish our book, we’ll find somebody who will.

Or we’ll publish it ourselves.

Or we’ll do a podcast. Or we’ll call Anderson Cooper.

Or maybe Oprah Winfrey.

Garrett is a lot cooler and more composed than I am.

I admire that about him.

He just squares his shoulders and keeps working.

Right now, he’s headed back down to Boston in a new rental car.

He wants to talk to his buddy Detective O’Halloran and see if he’s heard anything about the Amber Keenan case.

And about Tony Romero.

Garrett wants to follow up on the lead we found, that the FBI and Providence authorities have been interested in Tony for years.

I’m thinking about all the enemies we seem to be making, but I’m determined not to be scared off.

The more forces there are against us, the more solid I get.

Maybe it’s genetics.

I think back to my grandfather, nearly beaten to death on the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma.

I think of Mama and Pops talking about the discrimination they suffered at their jobs.

I can’t lie. The slights hurt.

Always have. I overheard people at Dartmouth calling me a “quota gal,” suggesting that I hadn’t been good enough to get there on my own merits.

But it’s also toughened me up and made me sensitive to injustice, no matter where it lives.

Even if it lives in the White House.

My phone buzzes with a text.

Probably Garrett. I grab the phone.

It’s from an unknown caller.

It’s a warning.

Your book is dead.

Leave it be. Or you will be too.

You and Garrett both.

A Brother

What the hell is this about?

Whoever this is should know that warning me away from something has the opposite effect.

If there’s nothing to any of this, why are people trying so hard to stop us?

The more they try to stop us, the more determined I become.

Still, I don’t feel right about having a crucial piece of evidence in my possession.

I need to put the bracelet back where I found it and direct the police to it.