“Ah, God,” Nick said, aching for families who’d lost children right before Christmas.

  “The FBI and ATF have deployed resources to the scene, and we’re expecting more information in about thirty minutes,” Derek added.

  “Thank you, Derek.”

  “Sorry to be the bearer of such awful news, sir.”

  “It is awful, and right before Christmas.” Nick felt sick to his stomach. Gun violence had become such an enormous challenge for the country, and one with no easy solutions. The deaths of innocent children would bring the issue back to the forefront once again.

  Terry, Christina and Trevor looked as shocked and saddened as Nick felt as they followed him into the study off the Oval Office to watch the TV coverage of the unfolding tragedy.

  “You’ll need to make a statement in the next few hours,” Trevor said. “I’ll work on that.”

  “What does one say about such a horrific thing?” Nick asked.

  “You speak from your heart,” Terry said.

  His heart was broken, and whatever he said about this latest instance of unspeakable violence would certainly need to reflect that.

  * * *

  Sam walked into a silent pit and realized her entire team was gathered around the TV in the conference room. “What’s going on?” she asked when she joined them.

  “Shooting at an elementary school in Des Moines,” Gonzo said. “During a Santa event for kids.”

  “Oh no,” Sam said on a long exhale. “How bad?”

  “Horrific,” Jeannie McBride said. “At least thirty dead, and they expect the death toll to rise.”

  “Oh my God,” Sam said, her legs wanting to buckle under her as she imagined the horror of families taking their children to see Santa only to be attacked by a madman with a gun.

  The TV anchors announced that the president would be making a statement in the seconds before the scene shifted to the White House briefing room. Nick walked into the room, looking visibly shaken and paler than usual, which made Sam hurt for him. He stepped up to the podium to face a silent press corps.

  “At approximately eleven thirty this morning in Des Moines, Iowa, a lone gunman entered an elementary school where older children had invited their younger siblings to meet Santa. The gunman opened fire on a group of more than two hundred parents, children and volunteers. More than thirty people are dead, many of them children. The gunman was killed in a shootout with police.” His voice broke as he battled his emotions. “As a father of young children, I ache for the horror that’s been perpetrated in Des Moines today and for the pain the community is experiencing so close to Christmas. I’ve deployed the full resources of the federal government to assist in the investigation and to provide comfort to the grieving families and community. My wife and I are heartbroken for those who suffered unimaginable losses today and for the people of Des Moines as they cope with this horrific tragedy.”

  He left the podium without taking any of the questions that were fired at him by reporters who wanted to know what he planned to do about gun violence in the United States and whether he’d be traveling to Des Moines.

  “You should go to him,” Freddie said quietly so he wouldn’t be overheard. “Go there, Sam.”

  His words jolted her out of the shocked state she’d slipped into. “Yeah. You’re right. I, uh, I’ll be back when I can.”

  “We’ll cover for you,” Freddie said.

  Sam squeezed his arm as she left the conference room and headed for the ladies’ room to change out of her uniform into the clothes she’d brought for after the TV interview. As she worked on removing the uniform, she realized her hands were shaking. All she could think about was Alden and Aubrey, and how excited they’d been to meet Santa at an event they’d held at the White House over the weekend. Tears filled her eyes at the thought of such a horror befalling the precious children in Des Moines.

  She folded her uniform and stuffed it into the bag and was leaving the restroom when she ran straight into SVU Detective Ramsey, her sworn enemy.

  “Well, look who it is. Little Miss Mary TV star. You’re such an attention whore.”

  She tried to push past him with the goal of ignoring him, but he wouldn’t yield. After getting the news about the shooting in Des Moines, the last thing on her mind was Ramsey and his nonsense.

  “Better than being an actual whore,” she said when he gave her no choice but to engage. “How’s the little missus taking the news about your affair?”

  His expression turned thunderous in an instant. “I know it was you who dug up that shit about me.”

  “I had nothing to do with it, but here’s a pro tip—if there’s no shit to find, then it’s not possible to dig anything up. You have a good day, Detective.”

  “Your day is coming, you bitch.”

  Sam turned to face him. “Are you threatening a superior officer by any chance, Detective?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Nah, I’ll pass.”

  Ramsey stormed off as Captain Malone approached her from the other end of the corridor. “What was that about?”

  “The usual pleasantries,” Sam said, “but he did warn me that my day is coming. And that’s a direct quote. Perhaps you could pretend to have overheard that part of the conversation?”

  “Perhaps I could, and that of course would lead to yet another suspension for the detective. They’re starting to add up.”

  “At what point will there be enough to get rid of him?”

  “Not soon enough. He has ‘rights,’ you know.”

  Sam rolled her eyes. “I was going to come find you. I assume you heard what’s going on in Des Moines.”

  “I did. It’s horrifying.”

  “I was thinking I should go to be with Nick. I know I’m on duty, but…”

  “No, you should go. We’ll take care of things here today.”

  “Thank you for understanding. I’ll make up the time.”

  “We owe you more time than you could make up in a lifetime.”

  “I guess that’s a good thing, since I’ve got this other part-time gig going on.”

  Malone snorted with laughter. “Is that what you’re calling it? A part-time gig?”

  “I’m still not sure what to call it. I’m figuring it out on a day-to-day basis.”

  “You’re doing fine. Go support your husband and the country during this horrific tragedy. We’ve got things covered here.”

  “Thank you for the support, Captain. It’s appreciated. I know this is a unique situation—”

  His bark of laughter cut her off. “Unique. That’s one word for having the first lady of the United States heading up our Homicide division simultaneously. Public Affairs is being bombed with requests for interviews about how you’re handling the dual roles, how we’re managing it, etc.”

  Sam was appalled to hear that. “Tell them I’m sorry for the added workload and to deny all interviews on my behalf. I’ll never understand why the media thinks they should have unfettered access to my every move.”

  “You don’t understand that? Really?”

  “Well, I do, but I hate it. Right now, I need to go be with Nick as he handles a massive tragedy.”

  “Go do that. We’ll hold down the fort here.”

  “Thanks, Cap.” Sam headed for the morgue exit and ran into Chief Medical Examiner Dr. Lindsey McNamara, who was in tears.

  “It’s the most awful thing,” Lindsey said, hugging Sam.

  “It is.”

  “Are you going to the White House?”

  “I am. I figured Nick could use the support.”

  “Terry texted me that everyone there is a mess.” Lindsey’s fiancé, Terry O’Connor, was Nick’s chief of staff. “And right before Christmas. I just can’t handle it.”

  “I know. It’s horrific. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  “I’ll be here, and I’ll be praying for you both as you lead the country through this.”

  “We need all the prayers we can get.”

  “You’ll do it beautifully. I have no doubt.”

  “Thank you.” Sam left her friend with a sad smile as she headed out into the blustery cold, wishing she had as much confidence in herself as Lindsey did. The eyes of the entire world would be on Nick, and her by extension, as they tried to console a grieving city and nation. No life experience or education could prepare anyone to deal with something like this.

  Vernon and Jimmy were in the black SUV that accompanied Sam everywhere she went these days. When Vernon saw her coming, he rolled down the driver’s side window. “I assume you’ve heard the news about the shooting.”

  “Yes, I have, and I’m heading to the White House to be with Nick.”

  “We’ll be right behind you.”

  When she’d agreed to have a detail trailing her, she’d insisted on continuing to drive herself. As she navigated the short distance “home” to the White House, she tried to muster the courage it would take to get through the next few hours and days. People would be looking to them for solace and compassion, and they’d do their best to provide whatever was needed even as their own hearts ached for the victims and their families.

  This is what it will be like, she thought. For the next three years, anytime something awful or tragic happened in the country or the world, people would look to Nick—and her—for guidance on how to handle it.

  She swallowed hard, hoping she, and they, had the fortitude to provide the kind of leadership that would be needed to guide the country through such a senseless tragedy.

  When she arrived at the White House and was waved through the gate, she parked at the door to the East Wing, where her offices were located. She went right to the office of her chief of staff, Lilia Van Nostrand, who dabbed at tears with a tissue as she watched the coverage from Des Moines.

  “Hey,” Sam said, startling the other woman.

  “Oh, you’re here.” She stood and came around the desk.

  Sam hugged her. “I’m here.”

  “It’s so awful.”

  “Yes, it is. I’m going to find my husband.”

  Lilia nodded. “It’ll be good for him to have you here.”

  “That’s what I figured. I’ll see you in a bit.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  Sam headed from the East Wing to the West, realizing at some point over the last few weeks that the massive White House campus had become more familiar and less daunting.

  Nick’s vice presidential reception team had moved to the lobby of the Oval Office and waved her right through when she arrived. They, too, looked as if they’d been crying. Hell, the whole country was probably crying today.

  Nick was seated at the Resolute desk, surrounded by aides, all of whom seemed to be talking as he kept half an eye on a television that had been brought in. Only when he glanced away from the TV did he see her in the doorway, a faint smile lighting up his weary face.

  “Excuse me,” he said to the others as he stood and came to greet her with the kind of hug he specialized in. “Thanks for coming.”

  “I figured you might need this,” she said, holding on even tighter, her arms around his waist inside his suit coat.

  “You figured absolutely right.”

  “What’s the latest?”

  “Forty-two confirmed dead, thirty of them children under the age of ten. The gunman, who is among the dead, was a disgruntled former employee of one of the families attending the event. The five of them are among the dead.”

  “Dear God,” she said, blinking back tears. She saw and heard a lot of horrible things in the course of her work, but this was on a whole other level. “What can I do?”

  “It helps that you’re here. How long can you stay?”

  “As long as you need me.”

  He linked her hand with his and brought her with him to rejoin his team as they worked to manage the unfolding crisis.

  Sam stood by his side later that afternoon as he again addressed the nation to express their profound sorrow and disbelief at the nightmare unfolding in Iowa.

  “These were babies,” he said, his voice breaking, “going to see Santa, full of excitement for Christmas. The person who perpetrated this cowardly act did so out of vengeance toward a former employer. He was known to have had significant mental health challenges, but had refused any form of treatment. I took an oath to preserve and protect the Constitution of the United States, and I shall do so with every fiber of my being, including protecting the right to bear arms afforded by the Second Amendment. But we must find a way to keep assault weapons out of the hands of people who shouldn’t have them. I promise you here and now that finding a way to make that happen will be a cornerstone of my administration. I ask people of goodwill who have watched this tragedy unfold today to join me in this effort to come together as a nation to work toward solutions that would make this country safer for all of us, especially our children. Sam and I send our deepest condolences to the families whose lives were shattered today and to the people of Des Moines and Iowa who are coping with this unspeakable tragedy. We will keep you in our prayers during the difficult days and weeks to come.”

  He didn’t take any questions because he didn’t want to debate sensible gun control measures. Not tonight. There’d be time for that later.

  “I need to see my own kids,” Nick said after he and Sam left the press room.

  “Me, too.”

  Chapter Four

  They climbed the stairs to the residence where they found the kids in the kitchen under the supervision of Sam’s stepmother, Celia, who’d moved into the White House to help with the children. After the recent loss of her husband, Skip, Celia had welcomed the distraction that came with being part of their chaotic life. As she hugged Sam and Nick, she, too, looked as if she’d been crying.

  Their fourteen-year-old son, Scotty, was subdued as he stroked Skippy’s soft fur while the twins chattered on, blissfully unaware of the tragedy that had occurred in Des Moines. Sam hoped to keep them unaware. Her phone rang, and she stepped out of the kitchen to take the call from Archie. “Hey,” she said. “What’s up?”

  “I was able to tie the IP address to the post your guy made under an anonymous account. We’ve got him.”

  “That’s great, Archie. Thank you for this. Let me know what I owe you.”

  “No charge. What he did was lame. He deserves whatever you have planned for him.”

  “We have a massive lawsuit planned, and you’ve provided the final piece we needed.”

  “I sent the info to your personal email.”

  “Appreciate this, my friend.”

  “Anytime. How’re you guys holding up over there? It’s just the most horrible thing.”

  “It really is, and we’re taking it a minute at a time.”

  “I saw Nick just now. He said all the right things.”

  “It’s hard to know what the right things are during something like this.”

  “He got it right. People are fed up with this shit.”

  “It’s a very difficult issue, but one that needs some sensible solutions.”

  “If anyone can get this done, Nick can.”

  “I guess we’ll see. Thank you again for using your superpowers to help me.”

  Laughing, he said, “Happy to do it. See you tomorrow.”

  Sam ended that call and put through another to Andy.

  “Hey,” he said. “Saw you guys on TV just now. It’s so awful.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Nick did a good job of setting the right tone.”

  “I think so, too. In other news, I heard from my IT guy, and he was able to connect the dots to our friend Mr. Thorn. I’ll forward his info to you the next time I’m on a computer.”

  “That’s great news. I’ve got the suit ready to be filed and served as soon as you give the green light.”

  “Hang on a second.” She gestured for Nick to join her in the hallway. “Andy has what he needs to file the suit against Thorn. Just confirming you’re still on board.”

  “I’m on board, but will we be crucified for the timing after the shooting?”

  “We could say it was already in the works when the shooting happened, which is true.”

  He thought about that for a second. “Tell Andy to go ahead, then.”

  “Did you hear that?” Sam asked Andy.

  “I did. We’ll take care of it tomorrow. I’ll let you know when he’s been served.”

  “Thanks again, Andy.”

  “Happy to help. Could I speak to Nick for a second?”

  “Sure, hang on.” Sam handed her phone to Nick. “He wants to talk to you.”

  Leaving Nick to speak to his friend in private, Sam went back to the kitchen and found Shelby Hill and her son, Noah, had joined the group. Shelby had agreed to be the White House social secretary and had hired a nanny to help with Noah during work hours. They’d set up a playroom on the third floor of the residence that Noah, Alden and Aubrey were enjoying.

  “How was your day, Mrs. Hill?” Sam asked her close friend, whose face was red and puffy from crying.

  “Wonderful and awful. The news of the shooting has broken my heart.”

  They kept their voices down so the children wouldn’t overhear them.

  “I know. Mine, too. I worry about people going numb to the violence because it’s so much a part of our everyday lives.”

  “It’s unbearable. Babies going to see Santa.” Tears ran down Shelby’s cheeks that Noah adorably wiped away. “Thank you, sweet boy. Mama is sad tonight.”

  “Go home and snuggle with your husband,” Sam said, hugging her friend.

  “That’s the plan, but I wanted to see my other babies before I left. How cute is Scotty with that dog?”

  “Adorable.” Skippy was glued to Scotty at all times, and when he wasn’t home, the dog came looking for Sam, which everyone found hilarious. Now that Scotty had finished eating, the dog had moved to his lap. Before long, she’d be too big for anyone’s lap, but Sam suspected that wouldn’t matter to Scotty, who was madly in love with the puppy.

  Usually, this was Sam’s favorite time of the day—home with her husband and children, even if the home was new to them. But tonight, she couldn’t escape the dark cloud of despair that hung over everything after the day’s events. They went through the motions with the Littles, overseeing baths and pajamas and story time, all the while protecting them from the heartbreak that had seized the country. Alden and Aubrey had already been through enough heartbreak recently. They didn’t need any more.