"How have you been?" Seth asked. He figured it would be smart to start with a little small talk. Coulson had agreed to let him take the lead because of his relationship with the former first lady, and Seth loved that he trusted him enough to do that.
"It's been good being here. Peaceful. And the weather has been so nice we haven't even put the boats in for the winter," Mrs. Markinson said.
"Not even the sailboats?" Seth asked.
The Markinsons owned two: a thirty-five-feet one they used when they had guests and a dinghy she could sail on her own. The Secret Service always followed her in a motorboat, allowing her to sail solo. She'd done it too many times to count, never happier than when the wind caught her sails and she raced over the water.
"Just the Pride and Glory," she said, referring to the bigger of the two. "That's already in winter dock. I'm keeping an eye on the weather. As soon as we get real frost, we'll take out the Jacob as well. But I'm still sailing several times a week."
"'I don't have any experience in sailing, so this may be a stupid question, ma'am, but isn't it cold?" Coulson asked.
She grinned at him. "Only if you capsize." They all laughed. "But seriously, of course it's cold, so I wear appropriate clothing, including a full wetsuit. But in all my years of sailing the Jacob, I’ve only landed in the water twice. Once in an unexpected storm and once because a Jet Ski got way too close. Boy, that kid got an earful from the Secret Service. Weren't you the one yelling at him, Seth?"
Oh, he remembered that day. He'd watched the Jacob getting caught in the wake, unable to stop it, and his heart had skipped several beats. "I was, ma'am. And he deserved every bit of it."
"Well, you can bet he never did anything like that ever again. I think he about wet himself in fear."
Seth smiled. She probably wasn't far off there.
"Do you plan on going back to Frederick for the winter?" he asked.
She sighed. "I guess I'll have to. You know how treacherous the roads can get here with ice and snow. For me, it wouldn't be an issue as I wouldn't go out much, but I'd hate to subject the agents to that. It's not safe. But I'll stay here as long as I can. This has always been my happy place."
"You deserve all the happiness in the world, ma'am."
"I do, and you and I both know I didn't have much of that last year."
"Yes, ma'am. And I am so sorry about that."
She waved her hand dismissively. "Not your fault, honey. We both know who was to blame. And I'm not one of those women who projects the mistakes of one man unto all men. You wouldn't cheat. You're far too loyal, to a fault, even."
"Yes, ma'am." What else could he say? She wasn't wrong.
"I've been happy here, Seth. Happier than I have been in a long time."
Her tone was almost defiant, and Seth's stomach knotted. The subtext was coming through loud and clear. What did he do now, push or accept the implicit answer? He didn't have much of a choice. Not with what was at stake.
"I'm beyond glad to hear that, ma'am, even if it was due to such horrific circumstances."
Her eyes sharpened. "Horrific indeed," she said, her tone flat. "Though I'm sure you'll forgive me for not grieving in a more dramatic way. I've cried enough over him. He doesn't deserve any more of my tears."
Seth swallowed. "Ma'am, I hate to ask this question, but is there anything about the assassination you'd like to tell us about?"
"No, not particularly."
"Is there anything you should tell us about?"
"Seth, leave it alone. It happened, we know who did it, and that's what matters. President Shafer will be a much better president for this country than my husband ever was, so let's rejoice in that and let the past be the past. It doesn't matter anymore."
She wasn't denying it. That truth stung. Despite the ache in his chest, he pushed a little harder.
"Ma'am, did you know that on the same day your husband was assassinated, an Annapolis cop accidentally prevented a second bombing?"
So far, they had managed to keep that out of the press. Mrs. Markinson's eyes widened. "A second bomb?"
Her shock was real; Seth didn't doubt it.
"Yes, ma'am. Intended for Vice President Shafer."
Her gasp was genuine. "Oh my God," she whispered, her hand flying to her mouth. "How?"
"I'm not at liberty to discuss details," Coulson said. "But a routine traffic stop delayed the bomber, and he wouldn't have been able to make the event, which had been canceled anyway, but he didn't know that. So either way, the bombing wouldn't have taken place, but the fact is there was a very real, credible attempt to assassinate the vice president as well."
"I'm… That's awful." A million emotions flashed over her face. Then she schooled her features again. "I assume the bomber was from the same terrorist group?"
"We don't have definitive confirmation on that, but the facts strongly support that theory," Coulson said.
"Praise God that was foiled, then." Her voice held the slightest tremor, but other than that, she seemed to have herself under control again.
Seth leaned forward, drilling her with an intense look. "Mrs. Markinson… We have reason to believe that an article Henley Platt wrote a year ago about weaknesses in the Secret Service was used as a starting point for the assassination plan."
She swallowed. "Okay."
"The trail seems to lead to you as his source, ma'am."
She held his eyes, staying quiet for a long time. "What's your evidence for that?" she finally asked.
"At this point, circumstantial," Seth admitted. "But, ma'am, we will keep digging. It's all connected, that article, the assassination, and even the Pride Bombing."
Her shoulders dropped, and tears gathered in her eyes. "I feel awful about that," she whispered. "So many innocent people died that day."
Seth was taken aback at her genuine sorrow. She'd always been neutral toward LGBT+ issues until her grandson had come out. That had changed her into an advocate, albeit a naïve one. But he'd never heard her express such deep feelings about the Pride Bombing before, and the timing seemed strange.
"Ma'am?" he asked gently.
She stared into the distance. After a minute, she dabbed her eyes and focused on him again. "I'm tired, Seth. I'd like to withdraw now, please."
They'd been dismissed.
"Yes, ma'am."
She rose to her feet, and he and Coulson did the same. They followed her out of the sunroom, through the living room, into the hallway, where she opened the front door. Coulson stepped outside first, and when Seth wanted to follow him, Mrs. Markinson put a hand on his shoulder.
"I'll think about what you said, Seth. If there's anything you need to know, do I call you?"
He nodded. "Day or night, ma'am. You have my cell phone number. It hasn't changed. And if necessary, you can always reach me through the White House switchboard."
8