“Evil resides in people of all ages,” the captain said in a world-weary tone that came from thirty years of seeing the worst of humanity.

  “Yes, I suppose it does,” Sam said. “I should’ve looked in this direction sooner.”

  “Could still be another dead end,” Freddie said. “Who knows?”

  “Let’s go talk to Bob Tappen and the Ouellettes again,” Sam said. “We’ll start there while the others do some digging online.”

  “I’m with you, LT,” Freddie said.

  “Keep me posted,” Malone added.

  “Will do.”

  Before she left HQ, she asked Detective Jeannie McBride to join her in her office. “Shut the door, will you?”

  “Everything all right?” Jeannie asked.

  “Yes and no. So the chief is asking us to take a step back from the review of Stahl’s files.”

  Jeannie looked as shocked as Sam had felt the night before. “Why?”

  “Because we can’t handle any more bad PR, especially with the FBI report due after the first of the year. We don’t expect that to be flattering. And I guess the fact that I solved the fifteen-year-old Worthington cold case in an afternoon isn’t exactly being greeted with praise. People are outraged—and rightly so—that it took us so long to solve what should’ve been an open-and-shut case.”

  “I think I’m on to something in finding Carisma Deasly.”

  Sam hesitated, but only for a second. “What’ve you got?”

  “A friend of the mother’s, Daniella Brown, went missing around the same time as Carisma did. Daniella had been in and out of trouble and rehab for a number of years, while the mom, LaToya Deasly, had put herself through paralegal school and had bought a townhouse for herself and her children. She’s always believed that Daniella took Carisma, but couldn’t find either of them or prove her ex-friend was involved.”

  Sam released the clip holding her hair and ran her fingers through the tangled length as she tried to figure out what to do.

  “I can’t stop now, LT. I just can’t. We might be able to find them. I’ve tracked down a guy Daniella was dating at that time, and he’s willing to talk to me about what he knows. I’m supposed to meet him tonight.”

  “This was a direct order from the chief to stand down.”

  “I’ll do it on my own time. Carisma’s family has waited eleven years for answers. They think it’s possible that Daniella has held her hostage all this time, that Carisma would escape from her if she could. How do I go on with my life knowing she might be out there somewhere waiting for someone to care enough to bother to rescue her?”

  Sam’s head felt like it might explode at any second. “Go ahead with it, but report only to me. Don’t tell anyone else what you’re doing, but take Matt with you when you meet with the boyfriend. Tell him it’s about the Tappen case.” She was going straight to hell for defying a direct order from the chief and for encouraging Jeannie to lie to her partner. “We’re out on a huge limb here. We can’t let this blow up into a BFD that makes the department look like shit—again.”

  “I understand. I’ll do everything I can to keep that from happening.”

  “Since both our jobs may depend on it, see that you do.”

  * * *

  “We have a problem,” Christina said when she entered the Oval Office with Trevor Donnelly.

  Terry was in the process of briefing Nick about the latest in the situation in the Gulf of Suez, which had deescalated in recent hours. That was a huge relief. Nick had been sick over the thought of sending in troops, especially right before Christmas. Terry stopped speaking in midsentence to turn to face his press secretary and communications director. “What’s the problem?”

  “You and the first lady are suing a man named Bryson Thorn?”

  “We were until he was murdered overnight,” Nick said.

  “His distraught wife is on TV spouting off about how the president and first lady sued her husband, and then he ended up dead the next day.” Christina held up her phone. “Sam called both of us to try to warn us this was possible.”

  Nick picked up the BlackBerry on his desk and put through a call to Sam.

  She answered on the third ring. “Sorry, I couldn’t get this stupid thing out of my pocket. Did you get my message about Tiffany Thorn?”

  “Nope, but I just heard from Christina that she’s on TV and making not-so-subtle accusations against us.”

  “The wife is about to get her ass arrested for arranging her husband’s death,” Sam said. “She’s probably trying to sow some reasonable doubt before the evidence points right back to her.”

  “Why do you think she killed him?”

  “We think it was because he ruined her chances of being invited to the White House for the twins’ birthday next year.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Afraid so.”

  “Wow.”

  “People are so fucked up.”

  “We already knew that,” Nick said.

  “Yes, we did, but this is further proof. How’s your day going?”

  “So far so good. Things seem to be calming down in the Gulf of Suez, which is the big news. We’ve got a big meeting on cybersecurity at noon. And then a bunch of tech CEOs are coming in to talk about forming a public-private partnership to deal with the issue of hacking and ransomware attacks.”

  “It’s very sexy when you use words like public-private and ransomware.”

  His lovely wife never failed to amuse him. “I’ll have to remember that later.”

  “You do that. Have a good meeting.”

  “Thank you. Can you be here for the Henderson announcement? It’s at six thirty, so maybe aim for six?”

  After another long pause, she said, “I’ll be there.”

  “Take care of my gorgeous wife out there. She’s the sun and the stars and the moon and my whole world.”

  “Swoon.”

  “You’re set to go with me on Friday, right?”

  “Yes, all set.”

  “Thank you, Samantha.”

  “You’re welcome, Nicholas. Gotta run. See you later.”

  “Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  * * *

  Sam ended that call and juggled the phones to put through a call on her flip to Captain Malone.

  “Can you try to keep the car on the road while you’re doing that?” Freddie asked.

  “I’ve got this. Don’t worry.”

  “Right.”

  Malone picked up the call. “Didn’t I just see you?”

  “You did, but I forgot to tell you I’m going to Iowa with Nick on Friday, just in case we don’t have this all sewed up by then.”

  “No problem. Do what you have to do. You’ve got a good team to cover for you when you need to be out.”

  “Thanks for the support, Cap.”

  “We all agree that having the first lady working for the department while in office is going to be awesome PR. We’re fully prepared to support you in every way we can.”

  His words made Sam feel oddly emotional. “That means so much to me. Thank you.”

  “Your dad would be so incredibly proud of you both.”

  That brought tears to her eyes. “I hope so. Scotty and I were talking about how he’d be all over the White House in his wheelchair, asking questions and bothering everyone.”

  Malone laughed. “I can see that so clearly. I sure do miss him. I can’t imagine how hard this is for you, especially with Christmas coming.”

  “Thanksgiving was the tough one. He loved that day more than anything.”

  “I can still picture him gnawing on the turkey neck while everyone else was dry heaving.”

  Sam cracked up. “There was literally nothing he wouldn’t eat. By the way, I’ve got a thing at La Casa Blanca at six tonight.”

  “Ah, yes, the announcement of our nation’s first female vice presidential nominee. Exciting stuff.”

  “What do you know about her?”

  “Just what I read in the paper this morning. She’s been instrumental in get-out-the-vote efforts for the party over the last few years and has fired up young voters. People are excited to have a young, dynamic team in the White House, not to mention the young, dynamic first couple.”

  “Not to mention.”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I got a weird vibe from her the one time I met her, but I was in her company for about ten seconds.”

  “That’s usually all it takes for that gut of yours to get a reading.”

  “I hope I’m wrong about her.”

  “I hope so, too. Let me know what Tappen has to say.”

  “Will do.”

  “You got a weird vibe on Gretchen Henderson?” Freddie asked after she hung up.

  “Yeah, but like Nick said, I met her for ten seconds. I need to give her a chance.”

  “Your vibes are usually spot-on.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  She would give the woman a chance because it’d been a huge deal for Nick to nominate the nation’s first female vice president. As someone who thought such things were long overdue, Sam wanted to be supportive of him—and Gretchen. She wanted to be supportive of women everywhere who’d celebrate the elevation of a woman to the second-most powerful office in the world. And she hoped Gretchen proved her—and her gut—wrong.

  They arrived at the Tappen home at eleven thirty. Judging from the cars in the driveway, the family was home, which was a relief. She didn’t have time to waste during her final workweek before vacation.

  Snow was beginning to fall as she and Freddie went to the front door and rang the bell.

  Lucas Tappen answered the door. “Oh. Hey. Did you figure out who killed my mom?”

  “Not yet,” Sam said. “We’re still working on it, though. Is your dad home?”

  “Yeah, he is. Come in. I’ll get him.”

  “Thank you.”

  They waited in the foyer while Lucas went to the back of the house to get his father.

  Holding a dishtowel, Bob Tappen came out from the kitchen.

  Sam noticed that the man looked terrible, like he hadn’t slept in days. Her heart went out to him. In the span of a few days, not only had he lost his beloved wife, but he’d also learned she’d been unfaithful. “We’re so sorry to bother you again.”

  “It’s no problem.”

  With Lucas lurking behind him, Sam said, “Could we speak to you in private?”

  “Sure. Come on into the office.” He handed the towel to Lucas. “Finish up the dishes, will you, son?”

  Lucas eyed Sam and Freddie before he said, “Sure.”

  Bob showed them into the office and closed the French doors. “This was Pam’s office,” he said, glancing around at the disarray left behind by the Crime Scene detectives. “What can I do for you?”

  “We have a slightly delicate question, and we’re sorry we have to ask this,” Sam said hesitantly, still not convinced this was a reasonable line of investigation. “But is it possible that any of your children or the Ouellette children might’ve found out about the affair and been angry enough to do what was done to Pam?”

  At first, Bob seemed too shocked to answer. “Not my children. They adored their mother.”

  “Molly knew about the affair. Is there a possibility that she—”

  “Absolutely not! You’re implying that one of my children is a psychopath, because that’s what you’d have to be to do something like that.”

  “What do you know about the Ouellette children?”

  “I only know Aidan. I’ve met the younger siblings in passing, but I don’t know them at all.”

  “Have you ever heard anything about any of them that would raise a concern?”

  “Not that I can recall.”

  “Thank you for your help.”

  “You aren’t seriously looking at my kids for this, are you?”

  “We’re looking at everyone until we find the person who killed your wife.”

  “My kids didn’t do it. The boys were in Delaware with me, and Molly was in Boston.”

  “Thank you for reconfirming your whereabouts.”

  “Please don’t upset their lives any more than they’ve already been,” he said with a pleading edge to his voice. “There’s no way any of them could’ve done this. Pam was everything to them.”

  “Thank you again for your time,” Sam said. “We’ll be in touch.”

  He saw them out and was still standing in the doorway when they drove away.

  “What’re you thinking?” Freddie asked.

  “That he’s a father who naturally wants to protect his children and can’t possibly imagine any of them being capable of something like this.”

  “No parent wants to believe they raised a murderer. Are we going to Josie Ouellette next?”

  Sam thought about that for a second. “No, I want to see Paula again.” If anyone knew the scoop, it would be Pam’s best friend. “Give her a call and find out where she is.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Freddie made the call and learned Paula was at work at a doctor’s office on Connecticut Avenue Northwest. He put the directions into his phone.

  They arrived twenty minutes later after navigating around frustrating traffic delays caused by construction. “I’ll never understand why they can’t do all the road shit in the middle of the night.”

  “Agreed. It makes no sense to do any of it during the day around here.”

  “And it irritates me.”

  “I’ll add that to the list.”

  “I’m going to have Nick call the mayor and ask her why they have to do road construction during the day.”

  “Are you really?”

  “I’ll suggest to him that he might want to ask about that.”

  “I’m sure he’ll get right on it since he has nothing better to do.”

  Sam shot him a look and caught him trying to hold back a laugh, which led her gaze to the sign for the doctor’s office. “Oh my God. Paula works for a proctologist? No way. My ass would have to be falling off before I brought it to a proctologist.”

  He couldn’t hold that laugh in. “I’ll make a note to bring you here only if your ass is actually falling off.”

  “Not one second before.”

  Inside the doctor’s office, Sam noticed that none of the patients in the waiting room gawked at her, which was a welcome relief from the usual routine. If she were a patient here, she wouldn’t want to make eye contact with anyone either. Not that there was anything wrong with proctology. Of course there wasn’t.

  Paula waved for them to come on back and led them to a conference room.

  “We’re sorry to bother you at work,” Sam said.

  “It’s okay. Whatever I can do to help you find who did this to Pam.”

  “Did she talk to you at all about Mark’s children?”

  The question seemed to surprise Paula. “Aidan is a teammate of her sons. He’s a big deal. Everyone expects him to go all the way with football.”

  Since Aidan has an airtight alibi for the time of murder, Sam moved on. “What about his sisters?” Sam consulted her notes. “Grace, Michaela and Alexis. Did she ever speak of them?”

  Paula thought about that for a full minute. “She said the older one, Grace, was troubled.”

  “Did she say how so?”

  “Just that Mark and his wife had a lot of issues with her. She was very willful, didn’t listen to them, constantly broke their rules. That kind of stuff.”

  Sam’s backbone tingled with the sensation that told her they might be on to something. “Has she ever been violent that you know of?”

  “I honestly don’t know that.”

  “Is there anything else you can tell me about things Pam might’ve told you about Mark or his family?”

  “I really can’t think of anything, but if I do, I’ll call you.”

  “Thank you for your help. We really appreciate it.”

  “I really hope you find the person who did this.”

  “So do we.”

  When they were back outside, Sam said, “Call McBride and tell them to focus on Grace Ouellette first. Get me everything they can find on her first and then her brother, Aidan, and her sisters Michaela and Alexis.”

  While Freddie conveyed her orders to Jeannie, Sam drove to Mark Ouellette’s insurance office.

  “They’re on it,” Freddie said. “What’s our next move?”

  “I want to talk to Mark Ouellette again. If one of his kids was pissed off about his affair, he might know about it. I want to see his face when I ask him about that.”

  “Good call. Let’s do it.”

  * * *

  When Gonzo and Cameron arrived at the home where Tiffany Thorn and her son were staying, he showed his badge to the officer standing outside the front door.

  “She just came back a short time ago, Sergeant,” the patrolman said as he handed their badges back to them after a thorough examination. “A real nice lady.”

  The young man’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

  “I had the unfortunate opportunity to spend time with her last night,” Gonzo said.

  Grinning at his comment, the officer said, “Her mother came to stay with the boy while she was on TV going off about your boss and her husband.”

  “Thank you for the info, Officer McDaniels,” Gonzo said.

  “Happy to help.”

  “We’re here to pick her up for a formal interview at HQ. Will you back us up? I don’t expect her to go easily.”

  “You got it, Sarge.”

  Cameron stood next to Gonzo as he rang the doorbell. When Tiffany Thorn answered it, he noted that her hair and makeup were flawless, as if maybe a professional had prepared her for her TV appearances.

  “Did you find Bryson’s killer?”

  “We think so.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Oh good. That’s such a relief. So we can go home, then?”

  “Not quite yet. I’m going to need you to come downtown to MPD headquarters with me.”

  “Why?”

  “I have some follow-up questions I need to ask you.”

  “Why can’t you do that here?”

  “Because this will be a formal interview of a person of interest in the murder of Bryson Thorn.”