Chapter 3: The World Outside

Leaving the East Wing, it suddenly began to snow, fine as cottonwood seeds.

The air was sharp with the scent of approaching winter—half snow, half exhaust from the idling town cars out front. "I've long heard you say your home is in Savannah. Will you return home after leaving the White House?"

I paused, then nodded.

It wasn't true, but such a small lie hardly mattered now.

"Yes, I'll return to Savannah."

Peterson adjusted his lapel, concern etched into the creases of his brow. "Actually, if you were willing to bend just a little, the President would surely..."

"Mr. Peterson, take care."

He caught my meaning, and the air between us softened. Mr. Peterson was clever and said no more, bowing with a smile:

"Ellie, take care."

A sturdy umbrella was handed to me. Peterson gave me a solemn bow:

He pressed the handle into my hand, the kind of gesture that said more than words—old American courtesy, the kind they teach at VFW halls and Sunday services. "This umbrella is to see you off for me, to thank you for your past kindness."

I opened the umbrella and looked up, glimpsing under a distant eave the shadow of dark clothing.

Fine snow fell on my forehead, stinging like cold needles, and for a moment, I almost believed Daniel himself might step from the shadows. Looking closely, I realized it was not a person, but a black crow sheltering from the snow.