“Would anyone here know his last name?”

  “I think Kristy would.”

  “Can you get her for us?”

  “Sure.”

  As she got up to go get Kristy, Gonzo turned to Cruz. “Send the names to Green so he can start looking at the social media. Also, let’s see if any of the neighboring buildings have cameras pointed this way or if the department has anything.”

  Cruz stood to leave the room. “On it.”

  Harley returned with another girl, this one with light brown hair and freckles. Her face was red and swollen from crying. “This is Kristy. She was close with Rachel.”

  “We’re very sorry for your loss.”

  “Th-thank you.”

  “What can you tell us about Gordon?”

  “She really likes him. Or, um, I guess I should say she liked him. I’m sorry. I’m in shock. She was so amazing. Never had a bad word to say about anyone.” When Kristy broke down into heartbreaking sobs, Harley put her arm around her.

  Cruz returned. “ME is here.”

  Gonzo nodded to him. “What’s Gordon’s last name?” he asked Kristy.

  “Reilly.”

  “Can you spell that for me?”

  “I think it’s R-E-I-L-L-Y.”

  Gonzo wrote that down. “Had she been seeing him for long?”

  “Since the fall, but it was complicated.”

  “How so?”

  “He has a longtime girlfriend at home, and even though they agreed to see other people while they were in college—she goes to the University of Georgia—she’s been super clingy and stuff. He’s been saying he’s going to end it with her once and for all. Rachel told him to let her know when that happened, and she’s been keeping her distance from him in the last few weeks. She was upset about it.”

  Gonzo took notes as she spoke. “What do you know about the girlfriend?”

  “Not much except she’s extra, and he’s been looking for a way out of it. At least that’s what he told Rachel.”

  “Thank you for the info,” Gonzo said.

  “Do you think she was murdered?” Harley asked.

  “We don’t know anything yet.”

  She crossed her arms and looked madly vulnerable.

  “Do you have contact info for her parents?” Gonzo asked.

  “I have her mother’s number,” Harley said. “Our mothers insisted that we have each other’s digits.” She withdrew her phone and recited the number.

  Gonzo wrote it down as a feeling of dread came over him. There was nothing worse than having to make that call to an unsuspecting parent. “What’s the mother’s first name?”

  “Caroline.”

  He handed her his notebook and pen. “Can you please provide your names and numbers, too?”

  Both girls wrote down their info.

  Harley passed the notebook back to him.

  “Thank you for your help. We’ll be in touch.”

  Chapter Three

  Gonzo felt bad leaving the young women in such distress, but he had a job to do. If Rachel had been murdered, he would do everything he could to get justice for her. That was how the job was supposed to be done. People like Stahl gave them all a bad name when most of their department was out busting their ass on behalf of the citizens they served every day.

  Before he left the lounge, Gonzo approached Kingston and the university cop. “I don’t want anything about this case released to anyone. This is our investigation. The school and its personnel are out of the loop now. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Who will notify her parents?” Kingston asked, sounding miffed.

  “We will. I want you to ask these kids to keep the news of Rachel’s death off the internet until we’re able to notify her family, which will happen in the next hour or so. If anything gets out about this before then, I’ll hold you personally responsible.”

  “You can’t do that!” Kingston said. “These kids live on their phones.”

  “Want to try me?”

  Gonzo walked away, leaving the two of them staring after him in disbelief. He hoped he’d made his point. Not that he could do anything to Kingston if Rachel’s friends chose to post about her death, but hopefully he’d incentivized Kingston to get them to hold off. Speaking to Rachel’s parents was his top priority after they finished at the campus.

  When he returned to Rachel’s room, Lindsey McNamara and her team were working the scene. They had Rachel’s body on a stretcher.

  “What’re you thinking, Doc?”

  “I’m not sure yet. There’s no obvious trauma, but sometimes trauma isn’t obvious. I’ll know more in a few hours.”

  “Keep me in the loop?”

  “You got it.”

  Gonzo took a call from Malone. “What’s up, Cap?”

  “PG County Crime Scene Unit is on the way.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  He ended the call and looked to Cruz. “PG County Crime Scene is coming.”

  Charles and O’Brien found them in Rachel’s room.

  “We may have something,” she said. “The young man working the desk overnight, Tucker, said there was a ten p.m. pizza delivery for Rachel from a company he hadn’t heard of before. He said the deliveries tend to come from the same ten or twelve places.”

  “The roommate told us she goes to bed early just about every night and was asleep when she got home at eleven,” Gonzo said, consulting his notes. “Did you get a description of the delivery guy?”

  Charles nodded. “Tucker said he was a big dude, like someone who’d played football. His dark hair was buzzed. He had brown eyes and a goatee. The interesting thing was that Tucker said that usually the pizza deliveries make his mouth water even when he’s not hungry because they smell so good, but he couldn’t smell anything coming from that one.”

  “Let’s get back up to Rachel’s suite and see if there’s a pizza box to be found anywhere,” Gonzo said, “and if there is, let’s get it bagged and to the lab.”

  “On it,” Charles said as she and O’Brien headed for the stairs.

  To Cruz, Gonzo said, “Let’s go talk to the boyfriend.”

  * * *

  Naturally, the whole world went mad when Nick was counting the minutes until he could escape the gilded cage of the White House for ten blissful days with his beloved.

  The North Koreans decided to test yet another long-range missile, the Iranians were doing something with plutonium, and an uprising in Niger was causing concerns around the world.

  He wished there was an “unsubscribe” button he could push to disengage for a few days, but that button didn’t exist for the president of the United States. Everything was his problem, whether he wanted it to be or not.

  Following the national security briefing, he consulted with Secretary of Defense Tobias Jennings about the situations in North Korea and Iran and with Secretary of State Jessica Sanford about Niger.

  Satisfied that his team was managing the latest flashpoints and would keep him in the loop, he left the Oval Office and headed upstairs to finish packing.

  He and Sam had said their goodbyes to the kids before they left for school.

  Aubrey’s tears weighed on him. They’d promised to FaceTime every night until the kids joined them at the beach for the second weekend next Friday. That had seemed to satisfy her as she’d headed off to school with her twin brother, Alden, and their Secret Service detail.

  “Have a great time and don’t worry about the kids,” Scotty had said. “I’ll take good care of them.”

  Not that long ago, Scotty would’ve been the one who was teary-eyed at them leaving for a week. Now he was stepping up to help with their Littles. Scotty was such a bright light in their lives, and the twins looked up to him with near-hero worship. They’d be in good hands with him and Sam’s stepmother, Celia, this week.

  When he entered their suite in the residence, Nick was surprised to find that Sam wasn’t back from her meeting yet. He hoped that whatever had resulted in the unusual all-hands meeting wouldn’t mess up their trip.

  After this vacation, he was making it his goal to get out of the White House at least once a week to go somewhere, whether it be an official or unofficial outing. He’d been sticking close to the office since he’d been sworn in, fending off enemies near and far who were looking to undermine his fledgling administration.

  The latest surreal event had occurred when he’d caught wind of a potential military coup orchestrated by the Joint Chiefs of Staff. They’d since been relieved of their duties and dishonorably discharged from the military. Despite this swift action on the part of Secretary Jennings, the media was like a pack of dogs with meaty bones as they continued to report on the story, with huge daily headlines describing each new development.

  Nick had tried to keep his head down to stay focused on the endless demands of the job while others took care of the situation with the now-disgraced Joint Chiefs. The betrayal had cut deeply. He was well aware of his status as only the second unelected president. Chosen to replace an ailing vice president, he’d risen to the top job after President Nelson’s sudden passing last Thanksgiving.

  Four months later, he was still fending off claims of illegitimacy, despite being confirmed by the Senate on a bipartisan vote of one hundred to zero to fill the vacancy created by Vice President Gooding’s departure.

  The Constitution had worked exactly as the framers had intended after President Nelson’s death, and yet, here he was still dealing with illegitimacy bullshit.

  Despite the furor, his plan was to keep doing the job, regardless of what anyone had to say about it.

  He put his shaving bag in the suitcase he’d left open on the floor and zipped it closed just as Sam came rushing into the room, her cheeks red from the chilly March day and her eyes a bit wild looking.

  “That took way longer than I thought it would. Have you been waiting long?”

  “Just got back to the residence a few minutes ago.”

  “Oh, good. Well, not good. But I’m glad I didn’t keep you waiting.”

  “You’re well worth waiting for, babe. And besides, I can’t very well go on an anniversary trip without my better half.”

  Her smile was everything. When she looked at him that way, he forgot all his worries and frustrations.

  He reached out a hand to take hers and kissed the back of it. “Are you all mine for the next ten days?”

  “For the most part,” she said, biting her lip.

  His heart sank. “What does that mean?” For the most part was nowhere near enough.

  “The meeting at HQ?” she said, sighing as they sat together on the bed.

  “What about it?”

  “We’ve received a credible tip that Stahl might be responsible for the disappearances and presumed deaths of upward of twenty women.”

  “What? Holy shit.”

  “I know, right? Just when we think we’ve seen it all with him, there’s more.”

  Nick couldn’t even think about how close he’d come to losing her to that madman, or he’d break into a cold sweat. He still had nightmares about razor wire and fire, not that he’d ever tell her that. She had enough to worry about without adding his fears to her plate.

  “So what do you have to do?”

  “Update two families in Delaware on this latest development. I should be able to knock it out in an afternoon while you tend to world domination.” She gave him a wary look. “I’m sorry about this. I know we strive for as little work as possible on these trips, but—”

  He leaned in to kiss the concern away. “It’s no problem. I have no doubt that my job will be a much bigger cockblocker than yours this week.”

  “You said bigger cock.”

  Smiling, he said, “So I did. What’re you going to do with it?”

  “Everything I can think of, but first you need to get me to Delaware. Stat.”

  After another quick kiss, he got up. “I’ll let Brant know we’re ready to roll.”

  * * *

  With Charles and O’Brien looking for an abandoned pizza box in Rachel’s dormitory, Gonzo and Cruz went to the dorm next door to find Gordon Reilly.

  They showed their badges to the student working at the front desk, introduced themselves and asked where they might find Reilly.

  “What do you want with him?”

  Gonzo gave the cheeky kid a don’t-fuck-with-me look intended to make the kid’s balls shrivel. “What room is he in?”

  “Uh, 212.”

  “Thank you.”

  The young man’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, which gave Gonzo tremendous satisfaction.

  “I love how he thought you were going to tell him what we want with Reilly,” Cruz said as they hoofed it to the second floor.

  “Idiot.”

  When they opened the door at the top of the stairwell, they stepped into a crowd.

  “Whoa,” Gonzo said. “What’s going on?”

  “Big fight in 212,” a female student with red hair said. “Been going on for hours now.”

  “Is there an RA around?” Cruz asked.

  “They’re all in classes,” someone else said.

  “Step aside,” Gonzo said, adding, “Now,” when the group didn’t immediately react to his direction. He held up his badge so they could see it. That got them moving out of his way. “Everyone back off.” He pounded on the door. “Police. Open up.”

  “Now see what you’ve done?” he heard a male voice shout inside the room.

  “Open the door,” Gonzo said. “Right now!”

  The door opened to reveal a handsome, dark-haired young man with high color in his cheeks, like he’d been exerting himself.

  Gonzo showed him his badge. “Step back into the room.”

  He shoved the kid back and followed him into a room with a twin-size bed.

  Cruz came in after him and shut the door.

  A woman with braided blonde hair sat on the bed, her face tear-stained. She looked freaked out to see cops.

  “What’re your names?” Gonzo asked.

  “Uh, Gordon Reilly, and she’s Tori Stevens.”

  “What’re you fighting about?”

  Gordon glanced at her. “We… We’re breaking up.”

  “No, we’re not!” Tori shot back.

  “Which is it?” Gonzo asked.

  “I am breaking up with her. She says it’s not over. Thus the fighting.”

  “How long has this fight been going on?”

  “Most of the night.” Gordon ran his hand through his hair. “But she was just leaving.”

  “I’m not going anywhere until we work this out! We’re not throwing away seven years like they meant nothing!”

  “I told you hours ago there’s nothing left to work out, and I’m done talking about it. Now there’re cops here, which is the last freaking thing I need. Will you please just go?”

  She crossed her arms and gave him a mulish look.

  “Have you both been in this room all night?”

  “I was,” he said. “She stormed off for a while at one point. I’m not sure when that was.”

  “Where’d you go?” Gonzo asked her.

  “For a walk to get some air.”

  “When?”

  “Sometime last night.”

  “How long were you gone?”

  “I don’t know. A while.”

  Gonzo glanced at Cruz and saw that he was having the same thoughts. “We’d like you both to accompany us downtown to get this sorted out.”

  “To get what sorted?” Gordon asked, sounding panicked. “We had an argument. No one was hurt.”

  “Rachel is dead.”

  Gonzo watched the words land on the young man like a bomb detonating right in front of him. “What?” he asked softly. “What did you say?”

  “Rachel was found dead in her bed this morning.”

  When his legs gave out under him, Gonzo grabbed the kid and kept him from crashing to the floor. He emitted a roar full of pure, guttural grief. “Rachel. No. No. No.”

  Gonzo nodded to Cruz and used his chin to point at Tori.

  He went over to Tori. “Stand up.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I told you to.”

  She stood reluctantly.

  He put his hand on her arm, intending to escort her from the room.

  “You’re arresting me?” she shrieked as she landed a hard kick to his shin. “For what?”

  “Assaulting a police officer, for one thing,” Cruz said as he cuffed her. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law.”

  “I haven’t done anything! You can’t just arrest innocent people.”

  “You kicked me. That’s called assault of a police officer. I could also charge you with obstructing a homicide investigation.”

  “Homicide? I haven’t killed anyone! You can’t do this!”

  He recited the remainder of her rights. “Let’s go.”

  “Why do I need handcuffs?”

  “We cuff everyone we arrest, and we can’t trust you to behave yourself while we’re transporting you.”

  Gonzo couldn’t have said it better himself. “Gordon, we need you to come with us, too.”

  “Wh-what happened to Rachel?”

  It said something about him that he was more concerned about her than he was with his own plight, Gonzo thought. “We don’t know yet.”

  “She’s really dead?”

  “She is. I’m sorry.”

  Gordon bent at the waist as if someone had punched him. The sound that came from him reminded Gonzo of hundreds of other people who’d lost the person they loved the most.

  If Gordon loved Rachel the most, had Tori known that? Could that be why Rachel was dead?

  * * *

  “Does it really take twenty vehicles to safely convey the first couple to a beach vacation?” Sam asked Nick an hour later as they headed east on US-50, ensconced in The Beast, the presidential limousine that’d been built to withstand just about any kind of attack. Sam hoped they never had to test those parameters.

  “Apparently, it does,” Nick replied. “What do we care? We’re alone and finally away from La Casa Blanca for ten glorious days. I don’t care if it takes a whole armada to get us there.”