First Date (23 page)

Uncle Mike walked in as Addy finished reading.

“I had an older brother or sister.” Addy handed him the journal.

“I know.” Mike nodded. “Your mom came home not long after that.”

“Was she sick?”

“Not exactly. But the grief on top of the malaria and other physical hardships had just worn her down. She came home to rest and get some help.”

“I had no idea,” Addy said.

“Life is hard, baby. Jesus never told us otherwise.”

“But he promised to be with us.”

“That’s exactly what your mama said after she came out of that dark time. ‘If God is for me, who can be against me?’” Mike wiped a tear from his eye. “She went back and saw dozens of people come to Christ. She was even able to help some of the other women in the village who had lost children.”

Help me, God, to be half the Christian my parents were. Show me how to be a missionary to my “tribe.” Tell me what to say
.

Chapter 42

O
rder whatever you want, Addy-girl. You deserve it after all that hospital food.” Mike opened the stained menu and looked over the breakfast options.

Addy adjusted the baseball cap on her head, feeling like a movie star in disguise. Mike had told her the only way they could get in and out of a restaurant would be for her to conceal her identity and go someplace only the locals would go. Addy liked the choice. It reminded her of their favorite diner back home, Dinah’s. But she hated eating while wearing a baseball cap. Especially one as bright orange as the one Mike had found for her. She had been sure she would stick out. Looking around, however, she saw that as a Tennessee Volunteers fan she blended right in.

Within minutes the pair had plates piled high with biscuits and gravy, scrambled eggs, bacon, and a sliver of an orange.

“Garnish,” Mike explained. They took their time eating, neither in a hurry to return to The Mansion. They were just about to pay their bill when a group of three men slipped into the booth on the other side of the wall from them. Greenery separated the tables. From her seat, Addy could see the men, but because of their height, they wouldn’t be able to see her.

“You sure this is a safe place?” a man in a hooded sweatshirt asked.

“Look around, moron,” another man, wearing a gray sweater and knit cap, said. “Only local yokels come here. We couldn’t be safer.”

Curiosity taking over, both Addy and Mike put down their napkins and leaned in toward the table where the men sat.

“Okay, here’s the deal: The kid always takes the plane back to DC on Sunday. Same routine, same plane. I got a guy on the inside. He’s gonna get us in as airport personnel. We wait until the kid is on the plane, then we take him down.”

“But I thought we were getting paid to hit the president,” the guy in the hooded sweatshirt said.

Addy sucked in her breath so loudly, she was sure the men at the other table would hear. The
assassins
at the other table. Men who wanted to kill Jonathon, then kill his father. Addy thought she was going to pass out. Mike’s hand on her knee warned her to remain quiet. He leaned in closer and pulled out his phone, activating the voice recorder.

“Yes, we’re getting paid to hit the president,” the man in the gray sweater said in a hoarse whisper. “But first we get the kid—we don’t kill him, just hurt him. That puts him in the nearest hospital, where we also have a guy on the inside. That’s how we get the president.”

“What about Secret Service? Won’t they be all over him? Especially if his son was just attacked?”

“That’s why we set this up as a crazed fan attacking the kid. Nothing at all to do with politics. The kid gets hit because he’s on that dumb show. Perfect cover. The dad is too worried about his son to beef up his own security, he goes into the hospital, and wham! We got him.”

“All right.” The guy in the hooded sweatshirt shoved the silent man next to him. “Got it, Georgie? This is all you once we’re in.”

Georgie grunted and the men’s waiter came up to take their order.

Mike turned off his recorder, hit the wrong button, and was answered with a loud beep. The men jumped up and peered over the bushes at Addy and Mike. Addy’s heart began to beat so quickly, she could barely catch her breath.

Mike looked down at his phone and drawled, “Dang cell phone. I just got her yesterday and I can’t do a thing with her. I’m trying to get ahold of my boss, and it keeps beeping on me. I’m gonna go deaf. You boys know anything about these kinds of cell phones?” He held his phone out to them.

The men looked at Mike, at each other, then sat back down without saying a word. Mike, staying in character, made a snide comment about “rude Yankees,” paid the bill, and walked—slowly—out of the restaurant.

Addy followed Mike’s lead, her head down with the bright orange bill from her cap hiding her beet-red face. She forced herself to breathe in and breathe out as they made their way to Mike’s car.

Once inside, Addy exploded. “Mike, they’re going to—Jonathon—the airport—tomorrow is Sunday.” She couldn’t continue. Mike squeezed her shoulder as he pulled out of the parking lot and dialed Eric’s number.

Ten minutes later a plan was in place. Addy and Mike were on their way to a secure location to give the recording and their statement to the Secret Service. Eric was meeting with the security officers at The Mansion.

The place was empty because the girls were all in Dallas for the week’s shoot. Addy hadn’t been able to go because of her spider bite.

You even orchestrated that, God
.
If I hadn’t been in the hospital, Mike and I never would have been in the restaurant today, and this plan may have actually taken place
.

“Now, Addy, listen to me,” Mike said as they made their way inside. “This has to stay quiet. You can’t tell anybody. Not Lexi, not Kara, especially not Jonathon.”

“But why?” Addy bit her lip. “Shouldn’t the First Family know about this?”

“The president knows. But he doesn’t want to worry the others. And he doesn’t want word of this to leak. This is top secret. Got it?”

Addy nodded and did the only thing she could think might help—pray.

“Can you hear me?”

Addy coughed—the signal that Mike told Addy meant yes—into her mouthpiece.

“Okay, good. Now just act natural.”

Addy tugged at the long blond hair in the wig she had been forced to wear, straightened the shiny green polyester shirt and white jeans, and tried not to laugh. She felt about as far from “natural” as she could get. Rectangular glasses emphasizing her heavily made-over eyes completed her disguise, ensuring that no one in the world would know she was Addy Davidson.

Addy herself had to look twice when the Secret Service wardrobe team had finished with her. Since she already knew about the planned attempt on Jonathon’s life, the Secret Service wanted to use her to help fill in the small airport where Jonathon’s private plane was to take off. They knew the assassins would be suspicious if the only people there were middle-aged men, so Addy was planted as a “typical teen” reading a gossip magazine—with her face on the cover—and texting on her cell phone as she waited for the next flight out.

Because of Mike’s years in the military and as a police officer, the Secret Service had allowed him to be armed and ready as backup in case any part of the takedown went wrong. Addy had prayed all night that the assassins would be caught and everyone would be safe. She had never been so scared in her life.

“No autographs, please. Just let us through.” This was Addy’s cue. The Secret Service agents on either side of the Jonathon decoy passed her. Addy looked up, surprised to see how closely this young man resembled the real Jonathon.

“Jonathon Jackson!” Addy tried her best to sound like a naive young southerner. “Oh, please, sirs, just one autograph. I’m your biggest fan. Really.” Addy dug in her purse while standing directly in front of “Jonathon.” This, she was told, would keep the assassins from seeing his face clearly and also serve as a distraction while the Secret Service men hidden on the plane prepared to make the arrests.

“No autographs, young lady.”

“No, really, it’s fine.” The Jonathon decoy took the magazine from Addy and pulled a pen from the agent’s pocket. “Thanks for watching the show. So who do you think I should take to prom?”

This was the cue for Addy to move to the side, blocking the ticket agent’s view. Addy had noted earlier that the ticket agent was actually the man in the hooded sweatshirt from the restaurant.

“Oh, Jonathon.” Addy giggled, thinking surely everyone around knew she was faking. “I think you should take me.”

She tried to hug the decoy when the Secret Service agents squeezed him between their two sets of broad shoulders and said to the ticket agent, “We’ve got to get him on this plane. I’m just going to take him straight back.”

“Oh, no problem, sir.” The would-be assassin watched the men make their way down the ramp and onto the small private plane.

She turned to leave, knowing her instructions were to hide out in the bathroom as soon as her part was finished, when she heard a commotion from inside the plane. Men shouted, then a gun went off.

Addy was glued to the floor when she saw Eric out of the corner of her eye. He was holding a small video camera with one hand. With the other, he motioned for her to get out of the gate.

Addy ran to the bathroom. She pushed the button on her earpiece and screamed Mike’s name. She clamped a hand over her mouth, embarrassed that she had been so loud.

“Addy, I’m fine. Relax,” Mike said. “I’m in the same spot I’ve been in. They didn’t even need me.”

“But the gunshot . . .” Her heart pounded. She cracked the bathroom door open as several Secret Service agents exited the plane, each holding a cursing, handcuffed, would-be assassin.

“No one was hurt,” Mike said, leaving the counter. “You can come out. It’s all over.”

Addy’s knees gave way beneath her and she fell to the ground.

Jonathon was going to be all right.

Tears stung her eyes. Maybe it was time to admit just how important he was to her.

Chapter 43

A
ddy woke on Wednesday morning in her trailer. The girls would not return till tomorrow. Mike still had jobs he had to perform at The Mansion, so Addy was left to spend her day in silence.

I’ve forgotten what quiet is like
. Addy laughed to herself.

She spent her morning reading her Bible. She found a Bible study online and was enjoying learning more about the book of John. Though she had read through the book before, she felt like she was seeing it with new eyes. Throughout the book, Jesus told people who he was, he showed people who he was, and yet they still rejected him. And the worst offenders of all were the religious. Addy saw herself in those Pharisees.
God, please help me be more like you and less like those hypocritical religious leaders
.

In the afternoon Addy completed her schoolwork. She took breaks to stretch and walk around the grounds. She tried to call Lexi but her friend was working.

I’m so bored
.

Out of the blue, Uncle Mike pulled up in his truck.

“Addy, come with me.” He opened the side door.

“Where are we going?” Addy jumped in, not even caring what the answer would be.

“Top secret.” Mike pulled out of the long driveway and onto the street. “I don’t even know what’s going on. I just know I’m dropping you off and someone else will take over from there.”

Twenty minutes later, Mike stopped on what appeared to be a road to nowhere.

“All right.” Mike walked around to Addy’s door and opened it. “You’re here.”

“What?”

“Just get out.”

Addy stepped out and peered around Mike’s truck. A black SUV pulled up beside Addy and the front window rolled down.

“Come on, then,” a very stern-looking man said, motioning with his head for her to get in.

Addy wanted to run. Were these friends of the assassins who discovered she was behind the plot being discovered and they were out to “take care of her”?

“I said, get in.” The man leaned a huge black arm out of the window. Addy looked toward Mike. He was already back in the truck, driving off. She looked toward the road in the direction they had just come. Could she outrun the guy in the SUV? She doubted it.