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Her eyes prickled with tears. Despite everything, she missed Dennis. More than anyone, he would have understood her confusion now, and he would have offered wise counsel. Whenever she let herself forget how he’d betrayed her, she also remembered that he’d been her best friend.
She took her time in the shower, so she was surprised to discover that Mat still wasn’t back when she came out of the bathroom. Why did life have to be so complicated? There was only one thing she knew for certain. She loved being Nell Kelly. Living in another woman’s skin had been the best gift she’d ever given herself, and she wasn’t nearly ready for it to end.
All day she’d blotted out images of the hoard of government agents who would be trying to track her down, and now she breathed a silent prayer. Please. Just a few more days. That’s all I ask. Just a few more days . . .
Toni DeLucca was barely paying attention to Dateline as she sat in her hotel room not far from Mc-Connellsburg, Pennsylvania. She and Jason had spent another fruitless morning at the truck stop and an equally fruitless afternoon questioning Jimmy Briggs. Now she was propped in bed munching an apple, instead of the salt and vinegar potato chips she really wanted, while she studied the preliminary lab report on the Chevy Corsica. Cornelia Case’s fingerprints had been all over it, but there hadn’t been any bloodstains or signs of violence. She set the report aside to read through the information they’d just received from Terry Ackerman.
Dennis Case’s chief advisor had reported that he’d talked to Aurora the night before. According to Ackerman, she hadn’t used the code phrase John North during the conversation, nor had she led him to believe her disappearance was other than voluntary. It was a relief to know that Jimmy Briggs hadn’t harmed Mrs. Case, but she wished Ackerman had pressed harder to find out where she was.
“This is Ann Curry with a special report from NBC News . . .”
Her half-eaten apple rolled off the bed as she found the remote and turned up the volume. Thirty seconds later, she grabbed the phone and dialed Jason Williams’s room.
“NBC just reported that Aurora’s missing. CNN’s coming on right now.”
“Got it.”
She heard the television go on in his room, and they both listened.
“Just where is Cornelia Case? Reliable sources in Washington are saying that the nation’s First Lady, who was reported to be in bed with the flu, has, in fact, disappeared. No one has seen her at the White House since Tuesday morning, three days ago. She isn’t at the home in Middleburg, Virginia, she and President Case shared or the Litchfield family estate on Nantucket. While there’s been no official confirmation of her disappearance by the White House, unofficial sources are saying that Mrs. Case left of her own volition. Apparently she told no one of either her plans or her destination. Most alarming, she left without Secret Service protection.”
The screen showed James Litchfield hurrying into a limousine.
“Her father, former Vice President James Litchfield, refused to answer questions today when . . .”
Toni turned down the volume as the report began to speculate about foul play. She propped the telephone receiver in the crook of her neck and frowned. “It was bound to come out.”
“Does it make our job easier or harder?”
She’d been wondering the same thing. “It’ll be harder for her to hide, so there’s a better chance she’ll be forced to surface. But it also raises the stakes. Now every crackpot in the world knows that she’s vulnerable.”
“Come down to my room, will you?”
“Why, babycakes, I didn’t know you cared.”
“Cut the crap. I’ve got something I want to show you.”
“How big is it?”
“Sexual harassment can work two ways, DeLucca,” he snapped. “And you just stepped way over the line.”
“Well, excuuuze me.” She hung up the phone and smiled. Jason might not have much of a sense of humor, but she had to respect his professionalism. She pulled on a pair of baggy sweats that were held together at the waist with a safety pin, picked up her room key, and headed down the corridor.
When he opened the door, she flicked her fingers against his chest. “Mommy’s here. Did you want me to fix your night-light so you won’t get scared in the dark?”
He rolled his eyes in exactly the same way her twenty-three-year-old daughter Callie did when Toni was annoying. Only young people could manage such an extreme degree of eye rolling.
“Take a look at this.” He gestured toward the laptop computer sitting on the desk.
She’d forgotten her reading glasses and had to squint at the screen to see that he’d pulled up the web site for tomorrow morning’s edition of a small West Virginia newspaper.
“What am I supposed to be looking for?”
“Right there.” He jabbed his finger at the screen.
“ ‘Santa Wins Celebrity Lookalike Contest’? Why would I be interested— Whoa.” She readjusted her distance from the computer and went back to the beginning of the article to read more slowly. “How did you find this?”
“Just surfing around. I’ve been checking the newspapers in a hundred-and-fifty-mile radius of Mc-Connellsburg. It says the woman was Hispanic, so it’s probably not important. Besides, why would anyone who was trying to hide enter a lookalike contest?”
