“But finding that journal is significant since, before now, all the Mormon Church had was other accounts of what the prophecy entailed. Now Rushton’s own words give new credibility to things. We can’t ignore this.”
And one other thing. “The Constitution actually is hanging by a thread, and the Mormon Church holds the key.”
“We followed Rowan this morning to a meeting with the Utah congressional delegation and listened in. They’re ready to move on Utah’s secession. They have the votes and the political support. The people themselves may well sanction the move. All they need is that document signed in Philadelphia.”
But that wasn’t the only thing dangling.
“Any word from Cassiopeia?” he asked.
“Nothing. You’re going to have to lasso her in. She could screw all this up.”
“She’s a pro, Stephanie. No matter what, if she realizes the implications, she’ll handle it.”
“That’s just it, Cotton. We have no idea what Salazar has shared with her. It might not be enough for her to know what’s at stake. We need her out of this.”
He knew what that meant. “I’ll take care of that. No need to involve other agents. Let me handle her.”
“Can you?”
“What is it with you and Frat Boy? Both of you seem to think I’m some lovesick puppy. I can deal with Cassiopeia.”
“Okay. You get first crack. If she doesn’t stand down, then it’s my turn.”
LUKE DROVE HIS RENTAL CAR THROUGH THE STREETS OF DES Moines. The day was overcast, temperatures in the midsixties. He’d slept nearly the entire flight west on a military transport from Andrews Air Force Base to an Air National Guard facility outside town. His body was seriously jet-lagged, but he was accustomed to that feeling.
Stephanie had already informed him that they thought a place called Salisbury House may be Salazar’s destination, so he was driving there to give the locale a quick once over. She’d told him that Malone was on his way, but she’d yet to say when and where he was to meet the old-timer.
He followed the map app on his phone and entered a quiet neighborhood west of downtown. Salisbury House sat on the crest of a hill among a forest of oaks. The manor looked like something from the English countryside, built of flint, stone, and brick, with gables and a tiled roof. A placard out front detailed how it had once been a private residence, built by a wealthy Des Moines family. Now it was owned by a foundation.
Nobody was around.
But it was just after 10:00 A.M. He knew the Lincoln exhibit inside did not open until 6:00 P.M., this its last day before moving on to its next location.
He wheeled the car past the house. He was hungry and decided some pancakes and sausage would be good.
But first he had to make a call.
He eased the car onto the street’s grassy shoulder, trees casting the pavement in deep shadows. He found his phone and dialed his mother. When she answered he said, “I need to know something. Were Dad and Danny okay when Dad died?”
“I’ve wondered when we would have this talk.”
“Seems everyone was in the know but me and my brothers.”
He told her about the envelope.
“I made sure your father and his brother made their peace.”
“Why?”
“Because I did not want him to go to his grave with that unresolved. And neither did he, by the way. He was glad it was done.”
“Why didn’t he tell us himself?”
“There was too much happening. My God, Luke, he died so quickly. We decided to leave that till later.”
“It’s been thirteen years.”
“It was for your uncle to decide the time. We all agreed on that.”
“Why were Dad and Danny never close?” He truly wanted to know.
“Since childhood, they never were like brothers. Just not close. No one thing kept them apart. Over time, the distance between them grew and they both became accustomed to it. Then Mary died. Your father and your aunt blamed Danny.”
“But not you.”
“That would have been wrong. Danny worshiped Mary. She was everything to him. He didn’t kill her. It was a terrible accident. And Danny dealt with his pain by ignoring it. That’s not healthy, but it’s Danny’s way. I know, though, how much he’s suffered.”
He recalled what his uncle had said. “Danny said you dumped him.”
She laughed. “That I did. He and I dated a few times. But once I met your father that was it for me. Another man never entered my thoughts. I always understood Danny, though. I may be one of the few who do. Your cousin’s death sucked the life from him. Then he watched as his brother raised four strapping boys in a happy family. That had to be tough. Jealousy is not Danny’s style, but every time he looked at us he had to think of what might have been—if he’d just smoked outside.”