The summer sun had not yet risen over D.C. and Secretary of Defense Elaine Becker had just finished an early-morning interview with a European news outlet. She was wanting nothing more than a black coffee and a few moments with her heels off when her trusty assistant, Jennifer Sloan, came rushing up.
“Madam Secretary,” Jennifer said timidly. “Sorry to bother.”
“What is it, Jen? I need a minute.”
“Understood, but I think you should hear this,” Jennifer said. “There is a woman in custody right now. She wants to speak with you.”
The SecDef sighed.
“She showed up at the White House early this morning. She’s been vetted and is currently being detained,” Jennifer said. “She didn’t go to the FBI because she wanted to talk with you directly, but”—Jennifer lowered her voice—“it looks like she’s been corresponding with Encyte.”
“Where is she?” the SecDef said, barreling toward the door. “And somebody get me some freaking coffee!”
Always a good judge of character, Elaine recognized immediately that the woman in front of her had a psychological issue. One could argue that the arm restraints were a dead giveaway, but even so, there was something about the woman’s eyes, the way they bounced like pinballs to different points on Elaine’s face.
“What’s your name, miss?” Elaine asked in the kindest tone she could muster.
“Leigh Ann,” the wild-eyed woman responded softly.
The SecDef could smell her—body odor mingled with coffee and cigarettes. She clearly hadn’t showered in many days.
Jennifer slid a couple of coffees on the table, and Elaine motioned for the guard standing behind Leigh Ann to remove the restraints. “I’m sorry for the precautions,” Elaine said.
Leigh Ann’s hands shook as she accepted the steaming cup.
“I’ve been debriefed on your communications,” the SecDef said. “But why don’t you tell me yourself why you are here.”
“I saw you on CNN,” Leigh Ann began, “last night. You were talking about Encyte and the potential threat, and I knew you were the one I had to come to … my half sister is dead,” her voice quivered. “Killed in the California school shooting a year ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” the SecDef’s voice softened a little. “Tell me more about what you have planned.”
“I don’t know for sure if it’s him, but someone approached me on the Tor browser. His name is GrievingDad_12—” Leigh Ann stopped. “I know what I’m telling you is awful, but I didn’t do it.” She looked frantically around the interview room. “I’m not going to do it. That’s why I came here today. I’m not going to be arrested, am I?” She pushed back from the table.
“Please.” Elaine’s mind raced. She shouldn’t have let them take off the restraints. This woman was a wanna-be serial killer for goodness’s sake. She thought about her own daughter and what she would tell her later.
“Please sit,” the SecDef said as two guards came over. “Laura Ann…”
“Leigh,” she said, slumping back in her seat, rubbing her wrists.
“Leigh Ann,” Elaine corrected herself. “You came in here talking about a shooting. That’s something very serious.”
“I know. And I need your help to stop it. He wanted me to shoot all the kids at a band camp … we were targeting children of the executive of the NFA, Frank Henryson. We’ve been planning this for weeks, very detailed. I have a wheelchair to help get me through school security, so the guns won’t be detected. I can show you screenshots of the messages we exchanged, if you’d like.”
The SecDef sat in silence, thinking. “You said you planned to attack a band camp?”
“Yes. There’s an end-of-the-summer performance at Fairfax Middle School. We planned to … attack them at the rehearsal. We wanted the shooting to be at a school.”
The SecDef turned to her assistant. “I want you to set up a virtual meeting with Ken and the director of Camp Valor … now.”