LITMIR.BIZ

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was evasive. ‘Maybe. Sometimes… I dunno.’

      ‘Look, my point is your behaviour has got all the hallmarks of combat-related PTSD. All the hallmarks. And furthermore, you lost Ellie, and I don’t believe you’ve dealt with the guilt.’

      ‘I’d appreciate it if we didn’t go down that road.’

      The hair-gelled doctor stared hard at Cooper. ‘Let me ask you this. You get flashbacks?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Do you feel disconnected from emotions?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Heightened alert?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Nightmares?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Unable to sleep?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘… You still sleep with your knife?’

      ‘Yes, if Maddie or Cora aren’t about. Maddie was never keen on it. Made her feel uneasy. Worried I’d jump out of my sleep and not know who they were. Fill in the rest.’

      ‘Feel unable to relate to family or friends?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Do you alter your reality with the abuse of narcotics or alcohol?’

      ‘No, but whilst we’re on that subject, I’d appreciate it if you could write me another prescription for those pills.’

      *

      Cooper opened the car door for Cora. ‘Sorry it took so long but now we can go and get on a plane tonight and have some real fun.’

      ‘Daddy?’

      ‘Yes?’

      ‘Do you still love her?’

      ‘Of course I do. Listen, I don’t want you to worry about that. I’ll never stop loving Mommy.’

      ‘I don’t mean Mommy, I mean Ellie.’

15

      The long cream hallway, adorned with family photographs, on the second floor of the Executive Residence, 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, is a section of the White House only the first family, and those closet to them, get to see. And it was here in the quiet hush of the early morning that Cooper found himself.

      ‘Coop!’ Jackson stuck his head round the door of the east bedroom, his face conveying delight.

      ‘Hey buddy!’ Cooper gave a wink and a smile and watched as Jackson walked towards him with a wide grin on his face.

      Even from part-way down the hall, Cooper could see the thick raised scar running down Jackson’s forehead; the result, as well a constant reminder, of what happened on the boat with Ellie that day.

      For a while no-one – least of all Cooper – had thought Jackson would recover from his head injury, but he’d been flown to the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota, an eminent neurological hospital, and slowly things had begun to turn around.

      Rehabilitation had been long and painful and frustrating for Jackson, but he was a fighter. And he’d battled. Battled hard. And eventually after sixteen arduous months, that fight had paid off and he’d been discharged – though he certainly hadn’t been left unscathed.

      His head injury from the boom had been of sufficient force to twist and turn Jackson’s brain on its axis. Interrupting the normal nerve pathways. Tearing and damaging its surface and leaving him with a left-side partial paralysis. A direct corollary of his injuries.

      And the large, disfiguring scar ran visibly but the deeper, unseen ones ran right to the heart of Jackson, triggering him on occasion to be lost, unreachable in the dark, debilitating days of depression.

      Cooper grabbed hold of Jackson before he was really near enough to do so. Embracing him and making it last long enough to let Jackson know he cared. Damn, it seemed easier than words.

      ‘Can anyone join in?’

      John Woods stood a few feet from Cooper and Jackson, immaculately dressed in a tailored blue suit, a starched white open shirt and a pair of mismatched socks. His warm smile reflecting in his green eyes. ‘Coop, it’s really good to see you. We were worried… Hey Cora, it’s good to see you. Don’t you look beautiful? I like your dress. How about a hello hug?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Please?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Just a small one.’

      ‘No.’

      Cooper put his hand on her shoulder. ‘You want to show him Mr. Crawley, honey?’

      ‘No.’

      Jackson smiled. ‘Maybe she knows you’re a democrat, Dad.’

      Cooper returned the smile John was giving him. But he knew his was more guarded. ‘Good to see you too, sir.’

      John Woods shook his head. ‘Do we have to go through this every time? Coop, come on, it’s me.’

      Cooper said nothing.

      With a sigh and still with his eyes on Cooper, Woods said, ‘Okay, guys, I gotta get out of here.’

      ‘Hold on,’ said Jackson. ‘Let me go and get that book you wanted to read… Oh and Dad, change those socks… Cora, why don’t you come with me? I’ve got something for you.’

      ‘A flamingo?’

      ‘I’m afraid not. Is that what you want?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Has anyone told you, you’re a funny little girl?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Well hurry up, Jackson,’ said Woods. ‘I’m on the clock.’

      *

      Cooper followed President Woods into the West Sitting Hall, an informal yet elegant living room, classically decorated in creams and quilted gold. They stood by the large lunette window looking out onto the West Wing.

      ‘Jackson looks happy. Is it for real?’

      Woods shrugged. ‘Who knows? He hasn’t been good recently. Sometimes I don’t know how to reach him, Coop, he’s like you in that respect. Maybe that’s why you understand him so well. Each time I think I’ve got him back, a few months later, like a wave it hits him, and I lose him all over again.’

      Cooper stayed silent. Watched the Secret Service through the window doing their morning sweep of the White House grounds. Then after a time, he drew his attention away. Turned to Woods. Made sure his manner was biting. ‘Is Rosedale something to do with you?’

      ‘What?’

      ‘Rosedale. Is he something to do with you?’

      Woods shook his head. ‘Come on, Coop.’

      Cooper’s poise stayed hostile. He knew when somebody was trying to be a wiseguy. ‘Is he or not?’

      ‘What do you want me to do?’

      ‘Stay out of my life when it comes to my work.’

      ‘You want me to stop caring? Is that what you want Coop?’ Woods’s tone appealed, but he was wasting his time.

      ‘I don’t need babysitting, and especially not from Rosedale. I want you to stop thinking you can make it alright.’

      ‘Then tell me what you want.’

      ‘I want you to tell me the truth about Rosedale. Is that so hard?’

      Woods poured himself some

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