"Of course, though that opening line needs some work. Are you breaking up with me?"
That didn't even get a chuckle, and Seth's stomach dropped. Samantha sat down beside him. "I have some intel for you. I heard you were asking around about the president's affair and if anyone knew anything more about it."
"What do you know?"
"Two things. First, the agents who were on President Markinson's detail are talking to each other and trying to decide whether or not they should tell you what they know. You have to understand this isn't personal. It's not that they don't like you or don't trust you."
"I don't take it personally. Breaking confidentiality is big, even with a fellow agent."
"Yes, and only a few know."
That suggested the affair had been a short-term thing, then. Otherwise, more agents would have been privy to details. "Good to know. What's the other issue?"
"You also wanted to know if any of us had overheard Mrs. Markinson talk about the president's affair."
Seth merely nodded.
"I did." She took a deep breath as if she had to fortify herself. "I overheard a conversation at a party in February of last year. She was telling someone about the affair. A man. I never found out who it was because she was in a closed room and the conversation was hushed. And when she left the room, I had to follow her, so I never got to see who he was."
"Can you give me anything? A read on his age? Type of voice? Speech pattern, anything?"
"You have to understand I wasn't listening in. I wasn't observing. This was a private party, so I really wasn't paying attention to the conversation."
Seth put a hand on her arm. "Sam, I know. If you don't know anything else, that's fine."
"I do, but I just want you to be aware this may be inaccurate. It was a long time ago, and as I said, I wasn't consciously paying attention. But I'd peg his age as somewhere between forty and sixty. Definitely a mature adult. His voice was too deep to be younger. He sounded confident, dominant, spoke in short sentences. You know Mrs. Markinson could be…somewhat long-winded in telling a story, but he listened to her with patience, didn't interrupt her, and didn't take over the conversation. But when he spoke, his words held force, even though I couldn't make out what he said. It's hard to describe, but that's the best I can tell you. He spoke like someone used to people listening to him."
"So someone with power."
"Yeah, that's my best guess."
"Do you remember what the party was for? An exact date?"
"It was her sister's birthday. Mrs. Dunham turned sixty-five and threw a big birthday bash. It was supposed to be a garden party, but the weather was crappy, so they moved indoors in a country club."
"How many attended?"
Sam pursed her lips as she thought. "Probably around a hundred? The president and the first lady were both there, as were all their kids and grandkids. Except for Noel Markinson, who had just joined the Marines the month before."
Seth filed that fact away for later. He wasn't sure how it could be relevant, but that man kept popping up in their stories, so it was worth checking out. "Any chance you'd be able to give me a list of attendees?"
"I can try. If we don't have a record anymore, I might be able to access pictures. Mrs. Dunham had hired a photographer, and I do know him, so I'm sure I could get a hold of those photos if needed."
Hmm, interesting how she had stressed the word do. "How well do you know him, exactly?" he teased her.
"Let me tell you that man knows how to use what the good Lord gave him. Contrary to what you men seem to think, size really doesn't matter all that much. Us ladies care much more about skills. And believe me, he's got 'em."
Oh, size really did matter, but Seth had no intention of telling her that. Then again, his man not only had the perfect tool but also knew how to use it. The slight sting in Seth's ass could testify to that, the lingering evidence of a rather vigorous round of lovemaking in the shower earlier that morning. He'd almost blacked out with how hard he had come.
Sam laughed. "You are so thinking about your hot boyfriend. I can practically see the dirty thoughts."
Seth shrugged, grinning. "You've seen him, so can you blame me?"
"Nope, not at all. I'd climb him like a tree."
Seth grew serious again. "I would appreciate those pictures…and all information you may come across or may remember."
"Seth…" She leaned in. "Why is this relevant? That's what everyone is asking. We know who killed the president, don't we? What does Mrs. Markinson have to do with it? Why is this affair even on your radar?"
"I can't tell you. All I can say is that it matters, more than you can imagine. If you have any sway over the agents on the president's detail, I'm begging you to use it."
Sam's green eyes drilled into his. "You're scaring me. Should I be scared?"
What could he tell her? Fear was not a healthy emotion, not for a Secret Service agent, though she probably didn't mean it literally. But even the slightest distraction could prove to be fatal in a job like theirs. The last thing he wanted was for her to worry. But he also wouldn't mislead her. He might not be able to tell her the truth, but he wouldn't flat out lie. If that came out, none of his fellow agents would ever trust him again.
"Scared? No. But watch your six. I mean that, Sam."
She searched his face, then slowly nodded. "I will." She rose. "I'll get you those photos as soon as possible. I may have to get to know the photographer even better to obtain them, if you catch my drift."
Seth winked at her. "The things we do for our country."
"And for the president. He's a good guy, President Shafer. It shouldn't make a difference, but it does."
"Yes, he is." He let out a sigh. "It does matter."
After she'd left the bunker, he sat, rubbing his temples. Sam had given them a crucial clue. One hundred people at a party, so who had Annabeth Markinson talked to? If half of them had been men, that left only fifty people. Rule out a few that were too young, too old, or not a likely option for other reasons, and it shouldn't be that hard to figure out who she had talked to. Small steps. It was progress, but fuck, this grinding was not his thing.
He checked his watch. Duty called. He shut off his computer, grabbed his stuff, and headed out.
The previous shift had nothing important to report, and so Seth took up position in the residence. Kenn was about to meet his new tutor for the first time, a man named Warrick Duvall. He was a law professor who had recently found himself unemployed when his small, private university had fired him…for being gay. Not the official story, of course, which was some crap about having different visions on student development, but they all knew the truth. Including the president, who had personally handpicked a few candidates to interview and ultimately decided on Duvall being the best choice. That Duvall was an Army veteran had probably influenced that decision, but Seth couldn't blame the president for that.
"Hey, Seth."
Kenn was still shy around him, but he had already opened up more than before. "Hey. How's life?"