The Devil's bed

The president had supplied him with a copy of all the documents related to Robert Lee’s death and the preliminary investigation. Although a number of jurisdictions had been involved, the paperwork wasn’t overwhelming, a sign that thus far in the thinking of the investigators, there was nothing unusual about the case.

The initial radio transmission had been picked up by the Coast Guard at 1902 hours and relayed to the sheriff’s office in Easton, Maryland. A boat had been dispatched, arriving on the scene at Bone Creek Cove at 1927 hours. The eyewitness who’d reported the accident directed divers in their effort to locate the victim. The body was pulled from the water at 2010 hours.

The sheriff’s people made a tentative ID from both the boat registration and a driver’s license found among the personal belongings aboard the victim’s sailboat. When they discovered that they had the president’s legal counsel under a blanket, they called the FBI, who took over the investigation from there.

The autopsy showed a depressed skull fracture and acute subdural hematoma beneath the right temporal bone, consistent with a blow to the head. No other wound or unusual marks had been noted. The lungs were filled with brackish salt water. (An accompanying lab report indicated the water in the lungs was chemically and biologically similar to samples taken from Bone Creek Cove.) The cause of death had officially been listed as drowning.

According to the statement given by the only eyewitness, a woman named Jonetta Jackson, Lee had been sailing across the inlet, north-by-northwest with the wind. She happened to be following him, a hundred yards back and slightly east, also running with the wind. They were the only boats in the area.

There’d been a lull in the breeze. Both sailboats had come to a stop, sitting dead in the water. Then the wind picked up again, only it had shifted, coming now from almost due north. As she prepared to come about, her attention was focused on her own boat. When she glanced again at Lee’s sailboat, she saw him begin to stand, his attention apparently grabbed by something on the shore. At that moment, the boom swung around and caught him in the head. She saw him go overboard.

Ms. Jackson had sailed as quickly as she could to his location. By the time she reached his boat, he had gone under. She immediately radioed the Coast Guard. In her statement to the FBI, she indicated she was a very good swimmer, and she had entered the water, hoping to locate Lee. Unfortunately, the murky water of the inlet prevented her from seeing anything below the surface. She’d held her position until the sheriff’s boat arrived, and she’d directed the divers in their efforts. According to the notes of the agent who’d interviewed her, she seemed quite shaken by the whole experience.

The Bureau had done a routine background check on Jonetta Jackson. The eyewitness was a consultant with a firm called Hammerkill, Inc. that specialized in high-tech security issues. Prior to that she’d been a special agent of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, a veteran of twenty years, who’d been cited for meritorious action at Waco. Her love of sailing was well known. Her credentials as a witness were impeccable.

Given all the evidence, the FBI was comfortable with a determination that Robert Lee’s death had been the result of a tragic accident and nothing more.

Looking at the evidence himself, Bo thought the same thing.

However, the president was convinced otherwise.

Bo walked to the window. He had a good view of the nation’s capital, a city that quivered in the heat of the August afternoon in a way that reminded Bo of a mirage in a movie. It was a city built on promise, on compromise, on inspiration and empty rhetoric both, on history poorly remembered and easily bent, and once in a while, on good people with the best of intentions who battled against the distrust, misdirection, and deceit that was politics as usual.

He thought about his meeting with Dixon. What had he sensed from the man? Decisiveness. Sincerity. Calm in the face of a difficult situation. All these character traits bumped against something in Bo, something that had to do with how he felt about Kate. He knew it would be easier to feel for her what he did if he believed the man who was her husband was terribly flawed and badly tarnished.

But he liked Dixon.

So, assuming that the president was correct and Robert Lee was onto something, what could it be?

Jonetta Jackson agreed to meet Bo at a Starbucks on Dupont Circle. She was a tall woman, muscular, with sharp dark eyes. As she spoke of her experience on the inlet of Chesapeake Bay, it was obvious the tragedy still affected her.

“I didn’t know who it was. Sometimes I wonder if I had, would I have tried harder, reached him sooner.”

“How far away were you?”