there?â
âI read a story about a baby who was kidnapped from a hospital in Tennessee the day after he was born and how his parents have never stopped looking for him. The thirtieth anniversary of the abduction is coming up, so theyâve gotten some regional publicity. There was a link in the story that led to the blog where the age-progression photo was.â
âSo the photo hasnât been picked up by the media?â
âNot that I could tell, but I was too freaked out by what I was seeing to dig deeper, especially since my thirtieth birthday is next week. I told my boss I had an emergency. I left the office and came right to you.â
âWhy me?â
âAre you serious ? After what you did at the inauguration, the whole country knows what an amazing cop you are. Who else would I go to with something like this?â
Sam winced at the reference to her crowd surfing stunt during the inaugural parade. She wished people would forget about that and move on, but the media attention on her and Nick had been even more relentless than usual since the inauguration and since their interview last week with one of the network morning shows. Theyâd hoped the interview would diffuse the interest, but that had backfired. Andrea, her White House communications director, had been inundated with hundreds of new interview requests for Sam, all of which sheâd declined. The last thing she needed was more attention focused on her.
âYou realize that accusing the FBI director of a capital felony is not something you do without stacks of proof that he was involved.â
âThatâs where you come in. I need proof, and I need it fast before that picture gets picked up by the wires or social media and flung around the country. I need proof before he knows that I know.â
Sam had to agree that time was of the essence before this thing blew up into a shitstorm of epic proportions. With that in mind, she started the car, pulled out of the MPD parking lot and into weekday afternoon traffic that clogged the District on the way toward Capitol Hill.
âWhere are we going?â
âMy house.â
She glanced over at him and saw his eyes get big. âFor real?â
âYes, for real.â She paused before she continued. âLook, if you want me to dig into this, I have to do it at home. Iâm serving out a suspension for punching another officer.â
âWhoa.â
âAs you can imagine, Iâd prefer that not be all over the news in light of who my husband is, and Iâve gotta stay below the radar on this or my bosses will be all over me.â
âNo one will hear it from me.â
After a slow crawl across the District, Sam pulled up to the Secret Service checkpoint on Ninth Street. Normally they waved her through, but she had to stop to clear her guest. âTheyâll need to see your ID.â
Josh pulled his license from his wallet and handed it to her.
She gave it to the agent, who took a close look before returning it to her. âThank you, maâam. Have a nice day.â
âYou too.â
âWhatâs that like?â Josh asked. âBeing surrounded by Secret Service all the time?â
âAbout as much fun as youâd expect it to be.â
âWhy donât you have a detail?â
âBecause I donât need one. I can take care of myself.â Thankfully, he didnât mention the recent siege in Marissa Springerâs basement as an example of her inability to take care of herself. Sam liked to think that was a onetime lapse in judgment, never to be repeated.
Outside their home, her husbandâs motorcade lined the street. What was he doing home so early?
She parked in her assigned spotâeveryone who lived on Ninth Street now had assigned parking spacesâand headed up the ramp that led to their home.
âWhy do you have a ramp?â Josh asked.
âMy dadâs a quadriplegic. He
Tim Lahaye, Jerry B. Jenkins