7:35 a.m.
United States Naval Observatory-Washington, DC
To Susan Hopkins, first female President of the United States, life couldn't be better. It was summer, so Michaela and Lauren were out of school. Pierre had brought them here once things had settled down, and finally, the whole family was staying here in the New White House. Michaela had bounced back from her kidnapping as if it had been a madcap adventure she chose to go on. She had even done a round of talk shows about her experience, and co-authored an article for a national magazine with Lauren.
Indeed, Susan and Pierre found themselves bending over backward so that Lauren didn't feel left out of the publicity. After the first TV interview, they insisted that the girls do the shows together. It was only right-while Michaela was trapped on top of a fifty-story tower guarded by terrorists, Lauren was home alone, her twin sister and lifelong companion ripped away from her.
Sometimes, Susan found her breath taken away at the thought of losing her daughter. She woke in the middle of the night from time to time, gasping for air, like a demon was sitting on her chest.
She had Luke Stone to thank for Michaela's return. Luke Stone had brought her back. He and his team had killed every single one of the kidnappers. He was a hard man to reconcile. Ruthless killer on the one hand, loving father on the other. Susan was convinced he had gone to that rooftop not because it was his job, but because he loved his own son so much he couldn't bear the thought of Susan losing her daughter.
In ten days, the whole family, minus Susan, would be heading back to California to get ready for the school year. She would lose them again, but it was only a temporary loss, and it had been great having them here. So great that she was almost afraid to ponder it.
"What are you thinking about?" Pierre said.
They were lying on the king-sized bed in the master bedroom. Morning light streamed in through the southeast-facing windows. Susan lay with her head resting on his bare chest and her arm around his waist. So what if he was gay? He was her husband, and the father of her two daughters. She loved him. They had shared so much together. And this, Sunday morning, was their quiet time.
The girls, being tweens, were moving into their sleeping late years. They would stay in bed until noon if Pierre and Susan let them. Heck, Susan might stay in bed too, if duty didn't call. President of the United States was a seven-day-a-week job, with a few hours of laziness on Sunday mornings.
"I'm thinking that I'm happy," she said. "For the first time since June sixth, I'm happy. It's been amazing having you guys here. Just like old times. And I feel like, with everything that's happened, I'm finally getting a handle on this President thing. I didn't think I would be able to, but I have."
"You've gotten tougher," Pierre said. "Meaner."
"Is it bad?" she said.
He shook his head. "No, not bad at all. You've matured a lot. You were still very much a girl when you were Vice President."
Susan nodded at the truth of that. "I was pretty girly."
"Sure," he said. "Remember how Mademoiselle had you out jogging in bright orange yoga pants? Very sexy. But you were Vice President of the United States at the time. It seemed a little… informal, shall we say?"
"It was fun being Vice President. I really loved it."
He nodded and laughed. "I know. I saw."
"But then things changed."
"Yes."
"And we can't go back," she said.
He looked down at her. "Would you want to, if you could?"
She thought about it, but only for a second. "If all those people could still be alive, the ones who lost their lives at Mount Weather, I would give this job back to Thomas Hayes in a heartbeat. But failing that, no. I wouldn't go back. I've got a couple more years to go before I need to decide about running for reelection. I feel like the people are starting to get behind me, and if I get another term, I think we'll do some great, great things."
He raised his eyebrows. "Another term?"
She laughed. "A conversation for another time."
Just then, the bedside telephone rang. Susan reached for it, hoping it was something insignificant.
It never was.
It was her new chief-of-staff, Kat Lopez. Susan could tell her voice right away. And already, she didn't like her tone.
"Susan?"
"Hi, Kat. You know it's not even eight a.m. on Sunday, right? Even God rested one day a week. You're allowed to do the same."
Kat's tone was serious. In general, Kat was nothing if not serious. She was a woman, she was Hispanic, and she had fought her way up the ladder from humble beginnings. She didn't get where she was by smiling. Susan thought that was too bad. Kat was super competent. But she also had a very pretty face. It wouldn't hurt her to smile once in a while.
"Susan, a large dam just broke in a remote area of far western North Carolina. Our analysts are saying it might be a terror attack."
Susan felt that familiar stab of dread. It was one thing about this job that she would never get used to. It was one thing about this new life of hers that she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy.
"Casualties?" she said.
She saw the look in Pierre's eyes. This was the job. This was the nightmare. Just a minute ago, she had breezily considered a run for another term in office.
"Yes," Kat said.
"How many?"
"No one knows yet. Possibly hundreds."
Susan felt the air go out of her as if she were a tire that had just been slashed.
"Susan, a group is gathering right now in the Situation Room."
Susan nodded. "I'll be down in fifteen minutes."
She hung up. Pierre was staring at her.
"Is it bad?" he said.
"When isn't it bad?"
"Okay," he said. "Do your thing. I'll handle the girls."
Susan was up and moving toward the shower almost before he finished speaking.
