“What’re the lawyers saying?”

  “That they have no case. Jameson and Cleo were very clear who they wanted making decisions for Aubrey and Alden, and that’s Elijah.” Their older brother was a junior at Princeton and had designated Sam and Nick as the children’s legal guardians while he was still in school. The three of them made all the big decisions about the kids together, and Elijah had become part of their family, too.

  “Then it should be okay, right?”

  “‘Should be’ are the key words there. They’re making a BFD about custody now that Nick is president. They don’t want the kids in the spotlight or in danger because of their proximity to him.”

  “They say that as if the twins aren’t protected by the finest security in the world.”

  “Exactly, and the ultimate irony is they wanted nothing to do with the kids before their parents’ killers were caught. The minute we solved the case, they tried pulling the concerned-family act. Elijah thinks they’re far more interested in the billions in inheritance that come with the kids than they are in the kids themselves.”

  “He may be right about that. I know it’s hard not to go to the worst-case scenario with this situation, but you have the parents’ wishes working in your favor. The courts take that very seriously and would have to find fault with Elijah to even consider overturning the parents’ request. The grandparents’ case is a huge long shot, and they know that as well as you do.”

  “Still, the stress is real.”

  “I’m sure it is. You and Nick have invested a lot of yourself in those kids and their brother.”

  “It was the strangest thing, Doc. It took all of a day for them to feel like ours.”

  “Amazing how that happens, huh? All those years of fertility struggles, and now you’re the mom of three and a half kids.”

  “I know. Nothing happened the way we thought it would, but we wouldn’t trade this family for anything.” Sam’s cell phone rang, and when she checked the caller ID, she didn’t recognize the number. “I probably ought to grab this.”

  “Go ahead. I’ll see you back at the house. Reminder that my door is always open to you, Lieutenant.”

  “Thanks, Doc.” Sam squeezed his arm and then opened her flip phone. “Lieutenant Holland.”

  “Um, hello, this is Marlene Peters. I’m a friend of Cameron Green’s. We spoke during the Armstrong investigation.”

  “Oh right. What’s up?”

  “I heard something through the PTA grapevine that I thought might be of interest to you.” Her children attended the exclusive Northwest Academy on Connecticut Avenue, where Aubrey and Alden were kindergarten students.

  “What’s that?”

  “The name of the person who leaked the photos of the president at Aubrey and Alden’s birthday party.” Those photos had caused a shitstorm for Nick, who’d taken advantage of a break between meetings during a tense standoff with Iran to come to their former home on Ninth Street to celebrate the twins’ birthday. One of the other parents had violated the nondisclosure agreement everyone had signed by leaking pictures of Nick with the kids while the secretary of State was being detained by the Iranians.

  “You’re right. That’s info I’d very much like to have.”

  “It won’t come back to me, will it?”

  “Absolutely not. Your name will never be mentioned.”

  “His name is Bryson Thorn. His son Sebastian is in class with Alden and Aubrey.”

  “How do you know it came from him?”

  “Multiple reliable sources. That’s all I can say, or it’ll come around to bite me in the ass.”

  “Any idea why he’d do it?”

  “I don’t know him, but one of the people who told me it was him said he’d do it for the attention and to stir the pot.”

  “Who’d want that kind of negative attention with everyone pissed at him, not to mention potential legal exposure for violating the NDA?”

  “You know that saying about how some people will take any attention, even bad attention? I think that applies here.”

  “I’ll never understand people.”

  “Right there with you. I’ve also heard that he’s spouted off about your husband’s youth, inexperience and reluctance to be president.”

  “Do you know where he lives?”

  She provided an address in the swanky Spring Valley neighborhood.

  “What does he do for a living?”

  “Stockbroker. The wife is a piece of work. None of the other mothers like her.”

  “I appreciate this info, Marlene.”

  “I think it’s egregious that he leaked those photos. Just about everyone I’ve spoken to agrees. Your husband wasn’t doing anything wrong, and Bryson did it with the sole purpose of causing trouble for him. He may not align with him politically, but he was a guest in the man’s home.”

  “It’s good to know others see it the same way we do.”

  “Many others do. People are pissed, and the word’s getting out that he was the leaker.”

  “Thanks again for letting me know.”

  “You got it.”

  Sam ended the call and thought about how she wanted to handle the info Marlene had given her. She’d planned to go right to HQ and change out of the uniform that had gotten a little snug since she’d worn it at her dad’s funeral. She needed to quit with the comfort eating.

  However, the uniform might come in handy on this mission. Opening her phone, she put through a call to her friend Lieutenant Archelotta, who ran the department’s IT division.

  “Hey, Sam. Saw you on TV this morning. The place is buzzing about it.”

  “In a good way, I hope.”

  “Mostly. People love the grief group and think it’s a great idea. Well, Ramsey doesn’t, but no one listens to him.”

  “I wish he’d find someone else to obsess about. But I didn’t call to talk about that jackass. I need a personal favor.”

  “Um, okay, but I thought we weren’t doing that anymore?”

  Sam laughed at the unexpected comeback from the only fellow officer she’d ever fooled around with when she was between marriages. “Shut up.”

  Archie sputtered with laughter. “What can I do for you?”

  “I found out who leaked the photos of Nick at the twins’ birthday party, and I could use some proof that they came from his IP address.”

  “I’d have to investigate something like that after hours.”

  “Understood, and I’d be happy to pay for your time.”

  “No charge. I’d love to help you nail the guy who did that.”

  “You’re the best. I’ll send you his info.”

  “I’ll get on it tonight and let you know what I find.”

  “Thanks, Archie. It means a lot to have friends watching our backs in this new situation.”

  “Situation,” he said, snorting with laughter. “You mean the situation with you guys being the first couple?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one.”

  “We got you covered. I’ll text you later.”

  Thankful to have him in her corner, she ended that call and put through another to her partner, Detective Freddie Cruz.

  “You looked good on TV,” he said when he picked up.

  “I always look good.”

  She could “hear” his eyes rolling through the phone. “Whatever you say, rock star. What’s up?”

  “We need to take a trip to Spring Valley.”

  “What’s way the hell up there?”

  “The guy who leaked the photos of Nick at the twins’ birthday party.”

  “Oh snap, a revenge mission. I’m always up for that, even if it means a trip to the outer reaches of Northwest.”

  Sam gave him the address. “Meet me there?”

  “On my way.”

  Chapter Two

  As Sam sat outside the Thorns’ mansion—there was no other word for the massive contemporary home—and waited for Freddie, she thought about the differences between rich people and everyone else. Rich people needed huge houses with doorbells that sounded like air-raid sirens. At what point did things get so good for a person that they needed a doorbell that would scare the shit out of them every time someone rang it? Although, those doorbells probably got used only when the cops came to visit.

  That thought made Sam laugh to herself. By some people’s standards, she was probably rich now. Nick had told her his salary as president would be four hundred thousand dollars, which was a king’s ransom to her as a public servant. After his presidency, he’d command millions in fees to speak and write books and generally be his awesome self. But one thing Sam knew for sure was no matter how much money her sugar daddy brought home, she’d never live in a mansion with an air-raid-siren doorbell.

  She was still cracking up at the direction her thoughts had taken when Freddie knocked on her window.

  Sam got out of the car.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “If I told you, you’d have me committed.”

  “I’m already building a detailed case, so be careful what you tell me.”

  “Good to know.”

  “What’s the deal with the leaker?”

  “His name is Bryson Thorn. His son Sebastian is in class with the twins.”

  “Bryson and Sebastian Thorn. They sound like romance novel names.”

  Sam chuckled. “Yeah, I guess they do. You wanna bet what kind of doorbell this place has?”

  “I’m sure it’ll be one that sends you into fits.”

  “Let’s find out, shall we?”

  “I’m with you, LT, and P.S., you’re freaking me out with the uniform.”

  “It’s freaking me out, too, especially since it doesn’t fit like it did at my dad’s funeral. I’ve been stress eating.”

  “You’re allowed.”

  “Not if my uniform doesn’t fit!”

  “You’ll get back on track.”

  Sam went through the wrought-iron gate ahead of him. “My poor, delusional Freddie. That’s not how it works for women. Once the fat arrives, it never, ever, ever goes away. Like, ever.”

  “That is not true.”

  “Yes, it is! Ask any woman. A nuclear bomb can’t get rid of fat once it’s gotten comfy on an ass or hips or arms or thighs or stomach. Fat loves the stomach.”

  He cringed. “Whatever you say.”

  Sam positioned her hand over the huge doorbell button. The bigger the button, the louder the commotion. “Ready for this?”

  “Bring it.”

  Sam pushed the button and stood back to listen to what could only be called a symphony orchestra of sounds. “Are you kidding me right now?”

  “You might need to press it again so I can fully experience it a second time.”

  Sam pushed the button.

  “Wow, that’s got to be the craziest one we’ve ever heard.”

  “Takes the gold medal for crazy doorbells. I couldn’t deal with it.” She peeked through the beveled glass on the side of the door and saw a man coming to the door wearing headphones and a scowl on his face. Sam remembered him from the party. He’d checked out their home like a Realtor hosting an open house. When he saw cops on his front stairs, he recoiled as he opened the door.

  “Mr. Thorn?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m Lieutenant Holland, and this is my partner, Detective Cruz. We met when you and your son came to a birthday party at my house.” Tall with dark hair and wearing a wrinkled Oxford shirt, he reminded her of the actor Vince Vaughn.

  “I remember.”

  “You got a second?”

  “I’m, ah, kind of busy working,” he said, seeming suddenly flustered.

  “This’ll only take a minute.”

  “Uh, sure.” He stepped aside to allow them to enter the house.

  The foyer ceiling was easily thirty feet tall. Sam wondered if all the heat ended up at the top, but she wasn’t there to ask that question. “How’s Sebastian doing?”

  Taken aback by the question, he said, “He’s fine. He’s at school.”

  “Alden and Aubrey enjoyed having him at their party.”

  “Oh, well, that’s good. He had fun. It’s nice of you to step up for them. What happened to their parents was horrific.”

  “Indeed it was, which was why we wanted them to have a great party. They’d been through so much, losing their parents shortly before their birthday.” Sam made a clucking sound as she shook her head. “Poor babies.”

  “They’re sweet kids. The parents were nice people.”

  “Yes, they are and were, which is why I wonder why someone would want to harm the people who are caring for them after their terrible loss.”

  His brows came together in an expression of confusion. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Don’t you?” Sam unleashed her unblinking stare on him. As a kid, no one had been able to beat her in a staring contest. That skill had come in handy many times on the job, and now was no exception.

  Thorn blinked first. “I, ah, have to get back to work.”

  “I know you’re the one who leaked the photos of my husband at the party.”

  “What? I didn’t do that!”

  “Yes, you did. I have several witnesses willing to testify that it was you, not to mention my IT people are tracing the IP address as we speak.”

  He sputtered with outrage. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, you do. I figured I’d stop by to let you know my husband and I intend to fully enforce the legal terms of the NDA you signed when the Secret Service vetted you ahead of the party. You’ll be hearing from our attorneys. I hope the stock market is good to you, because we plan to sue your pants off.”

  “You can’t just come into someone’s home and start accusing them of things.”

  “Detective Cruz, can I do that?”

  “Yes, ma’am. That’s actually a big part of our jobs. We visit people’s homes and accuse them of things almost every day.”

  Sam loved him and the way he rolled with her so, so much.

  “Here’s the deal, Mr. Thorn. By uploading those photos, you violated the airtight NDA you signed before you entered my home. My husband and I will be filing suit against you imminently, and we plan to make it a doozy.” She looked around him into one of those formal living rooms no one actually used—except when cops came to call. “Detective Cruz, how do you think my sofa is going to look in that living room? Nick and I will need a bigger place after we leave the White House. This would do, don’t you think?”

  “The sofa would look great there, for sure.”

  “You’ve made your point,” Thorn said on a low growl.

  “Have I?” Sam leaned in a little closer. “It was a dick move to try to hurt the people providing love and shelter to two children whose parents were murdered in the most horrific way imaginable. Their murders were among the worst we’ve ever encountered, and we’ve seen it all. Did it make you feel like a big man to get that scoop and make trouble for my husband?”

  His mulish look spoke volumes. “I’ve said all I’m going to say.”

  “Excellent. We’ll see you in court. Let’s go, Detective. I’ll take the measurements the next time I’m here.”

  They walked out of the house, leaving the door open. It slammed shut behind them, making Sam laugh.

  “Holy shit, that was fun,” Freddie said.

  “I wish I’d recorded it as a training video. You were on fire.”

  “So were you.”

  “Come for my family, and I’m coming for you.”

  “Are you really going to sue him?”

  “You bet your ass I am. We need to send a message that we’re not putting up with this shit. He signed the NDA, and now he’s going to feel our wrath.”

  “Do you have Archie tracking the IP address—and P.S., I’m shocked that you even know what that is.”

  “I know stuff,” she said indignantly, “and yes, he’s doing it for me on his own time as a personal favor.”

  “That’s awesome. I’m so glad you’re sticking it to Thorn. The stuff about your sofa fitting in his living room was a nice touch.”

  “I’m glad you thought so, even though you know I’d never live in a place like that. Nick and I would get lost trying to find each other.”

  “If you can find each other in the White House, you can find each other in there.”

  “I guess that’s true. Lately, our biggest challenge is chasing Skippy. That dog keeps escaping from the residence.”

  “She’s so cute. The whole country is following her Instagram account. She has, like, twenty million followers already.”

  “That’s all Scotty’s doing. Do you know she gets more than five hundred letters a week at the White House, and we only just got her!”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “We’re working on a form letter from Skippy to send to the people who write to her. Scotty thinks the whole thing is awesome, and he loves having her, but we’re training him to keep better tabs on her. They found her eating daisies in the floral shop in the basement last week.”

  Freddie rocked with laughter. “She’s going to be on the front page of the papers at this rate.”

  “Only we could end up with the wildest puppy in the pound.” When they reached their cars, she said, “Thanks for driving all the way out here to have my back on a personal matter. I’ve learned the hard way not to go into any house by myself.” She shuddered, thinking of the day former lieutenant Stahl had taken her hostage in the Springer house.

  “Don’t think about that,” Freddie said, tuned into her as always. “He’s in prison where he belongs.”

  “Thank goodness for that. Let’s get back to HQ and dive into Stahl’s files to figure out what other cases of his got the shaft.”

  “I’m a little afraid of what we’re going to find in those files.”

  “Me, too.” As Sam drove back to headquarters in heavy traffic, she juggled the secure BlackBerry. Nick picked up on the second ring. “I can never believe you actually take my calls when you’re presiding over the fate of the free world.”

  “The fate of the free world has nothing on my lovely wife,” he said, sounding amused. “What’s going on?”