She smiled at her reflection. “You’ve got him on the hook, girl. Now go get him.”

  Chapter Eight

  Worthy’s assistant had somehow provided clothing in all her sizes, including the high-cut briefs she favored and the double-D-cup bra. How had they known? She chose a pair of leggings and a soft long-sleeved top in a shade of light green that would make her eyes pop. How often had she been told they were among her best features? Her legs, tits and ass were also on that list, and she used each of them to maximum effect.

  Leaving the guest suite, she walked to the main area of the apartment, her feet snug and toasty in a brand-new pair of Ugg slippers. They’d thought of everything she might need.

  Nicoletta was stunned to find Collins standing watch over a pan of eggs he’d obviously made himself. He’d removed his suit jacket and tie and rolled up the sleeves of a crisp white dress shirt.

  “Hope you like scrambled. That’s my specialty when it comes to eggs.” He flashed that disarming grin. “Well, that’s not true. I don’t have a specialty, per se. More like a go-to.”

  He was rambling like a nervous boy making breakfast for a woman for the first time, when that couldn’t possibly be true.

  “Scrambled is perfect.” Her mouth watered at the scent of decent food after days of that crap they called food in jail.

  “Toast?”

  “Sure, thanks.”

  He popped four slices into the toaster and poured her a cup of coffee, pushing it across the counter, followed by cream, sugar and artificial sweetener. “Wasn’t sure how you take it.”

  “Black is fine.”

  “That’s how I like it, too. Not sure why people put all that garbage in it when it’s perfectly good as is.”

  “My sentiments exactly.” She took a seat on one of the plush stools that lined the longest island countertop she’d ever seen. It had to be twenty feet.

  “Did you find everything you needed?”

  “And then some. How did you know all my sizes?”

  “My assistant is very good at these things. I have to give her full credit.”

  “Please tell her thank you for me.”

  “I’ll do that.” He served the eggs and toast with butter, jam and a bowl of fruit.

  “This is lovely. Thank you so much.”

  “My pleasure.”

  He brought his plate with him and sat next to her.

  They ate in companionable silence, which she appreciated. She’d grown weary of men who felt the need to be entertaining every minute they were with her out of fear she might lose interest. What they’d failed to realize was that she’d never been interested in the first place. So there’d been nothing to lose but her patience with their endless yammering about themselves.

  This man knew how to work the silence, which made her even more intrigued.

  After they’d finished eating, he cleared their plates and offered her more coffee.

  She nudged her mug forward.

  “We need to talk about your case,” he said gently after he’d refilled both their mugs.

  Her bubble of contentment burst with those words. “Must we?”

  “I’m afraid so. The DA has reached out with a possible deal that would keep you out of jail.”

  “What kind of deal?”

  “The kind where you might have to turn over your client list.”

  She gasped. “Never.”

  “I understand your reluctance, but here’s the thing. Your business is dead. The only way you can save yourself is to deal with the prosecutors. They’ve offered to clear the charges from your record in one year, provided you’re not charged with the same crimes again, in exchange for the client list. It’s a very fair deal, Nicoletta.”

  “Fair to whom? To save my own skin, I have to sacrifice thousands of other people?”

  “That’s about the gist of it.”

  “I can’t do that, Collins. I simply cannot.”

  “Then you’d have to take your chances at trial, which would be a national media circus the likes of which you can’t begin to fathom.”

  The thought of that was unbearable, even if she did relish being the center of attention. That kind of attention, however, was not the kind she enjoyed.

  “What about the federal charges?”

  “Those are a bit trickier.”

  “How so?”

  “The Feds have indicated they’re planning to play hardball on the money laundering.”

  “Are those the same Feds that work for my son?”

  “Indirectly. The Justice Department is supposed to be independent from the president.”

  “Could he tell them to back off?”

  “He could, but it wouldn’t be a wise move on his part. It would be seen as an inappropriate use of presidential power.”

  “He never does anything inappropriate.”

  “He does seem to color inside the lines, from what I’ve seen thus far.”

  “He gets that from his father.”

  Collins chuckled. “I think it’s safe to assume there’s no help coming from him.”

  “Agreed. We’re not on the best of terms.”

  “We may have another option.”

  “What’s that?”

  “If you agree to community service and make a huge donation to a youth crisis organization, we may be able to plead the federal charges down to a misdemeanor with probation.”

  “How big of a donation are we talking?”

  “A million dollars?”

  “I don’t have that!”

  He raised a brow.

  “I don’t!”

  “Not even in offshore accounts?”

  How did he know about them? “I, uh…”

  “You have the money to buy your way out of this, Nicoletta.”

  “But that’s my nest egg. My security.”

  “Which is worse? Being penniless or being in jail?”

  “Is that a multiple-choice question?”

  His smile made her weak in the knees. Good thing she was sitting, or she might do something mortifying, such as swoon.

  “This is all my bitch daughter-in-law’s fault. She sent the FBI after me.”

  Collins was taken aback. “Do you know that for certain?”

  “She would’ve been smart about it, but I know it was her. She hates me.”

  “Why does she hate you?”

  “I can only assume it’s related to certain… failures, you might call them… as a mother to my son.”

  “Is that why you’re on the outs with him?”

  “I suppose so. Look, I was sixteen when I got pregnant with him. So I wasn’t mother of the year. He had everything he needed.”

  “And since he’s been an adult? Have you tried to mend fences with him?”

  “I’ve tried, but he’s not receptive.”

  “In what way have you tried?”

  She began to squirm under his penetrating gaze. She couldn’t talk to him about these things and hope that he’d still find her appealing.

  “Do you have kids?”

  “Three.”

  “Are you close to them?”

  “They’re my best friends.”

  Great. So how could he possibly understand her situation with Nick? “Where’s their mother?”

  “She died of cancer fifteen years ago.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you. It was a very difficult loss for all of us, but it’s made me closer to my kids than I already was.”

  “You’re lucky. It doesn’t always happen that way.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “Look, I’ve made some mistakes in my life. A lot of mistakes. I don’t deny that. I tried to be a good mother to my son, but what did I know about motherhood? My own mother was in and out of psychiatric hospitals the whole time I was growing up.”

  That wasn’t entirely true, but he didn’t need to know that. Her mother had had one breakdown after her father left them, but she was never the same afterward. That was the first time Nicoletta had seen what men were capable of, and it was why she’d never allowed herself to love one of them so much that she’d be destroyed if he left.

  It was easier not to care. The philosophy applied to her son, too. If she didn’t care, she couldn’t be hurt.

  Collins seemed to listen carefully to everything she said. If he was judging her, she couldn’t tell. “I think you should consider pleading out the charges, paying the fines, doing your community service and starting over with a clean slate.”

  “Is there any other way for the state to get the info it wants without me handing it over to them?”

  He thought about that for a second. “Where’s it kept?”

  “My business records are in a safe-deposit box at the bank.”

  “There may be a way to steer them in that direction without your obvious involvement. Let me see what I can do. In the meantime, I want you to think about how you might repair your relationship with your son.”

  She looked at him with pure shock. “Why?”

  “Because you’re missing out on one of the best things in life.”

  “Why do you care?”

  He gave her another of those penetrating stares that seemed to see right through her. If that was true, would he like what he saw?

  “I’m not sure yet, but I’ll let you know as soon as I figure it out.”

  Nicoletta had no idea how to take that, but since she needed him and his help, she decided she could be patient.

  For now, anyway.

  * * *

  Several members of Nick’s national security team arrived after breakfast to provide his daily briefing. While he was cloistered with them in a secure room next door, Sam got out her laptop to read the latest emails about the Stahl investigation.

  Included in one that Captain Malone had sent to all personnel was a photo of Stahl’s home in Northeast, shrouded now in a tent and yellow police tape. The photo, taken by drone, also showed a crowd of people gathered outside the police perimeter. Lookie-loos, they called them. It was human nature, she supposed, to want to know what was going on. That was until disaster struck their own home, and then they asked for privacy.

  She read Malone’s email update. Crime Scene detectives arrived at the Stahl home to find that his sister, Cindy, and her two young children were living there. The sister put up a fight when asked to leave and was told she’d be taken into custody unless she and her children vacated the premises immediately. She swore at the officers, told them they had no right to enter her home (despite having been presented with the warrant) and was generally uncooperative. Lieutenant Haggerty gave her ten minutes to pack the family’s belongings and expelled her from the house.

  Sam wasn’t surprised to learn that Stahl’s sister was unpleasant, but Sam felt for her for being booted from her home thanks to her good-for-nothing brother.

  The sister demanded to know what the police wanted at the house and was told they had no obligation to discuss that with her as she isn’t the subject of the investigation. She said her lawyer would be in touch, as Stahl made her the owner when he went to prison. Once the occupants were removed from the house, Haggerty and his team started in the basement with a full investigation that may involve the breaking of the concrete floor and excavation of the yard. We expect this investigation to take several weeks to complete.

  Detectives have been assigned to reopen the cases of each of the missing women who may be tied to Stahl. More information will be shared with you as it becomes available. Needless to say, we are carefully managing the distribution of information to the media until such time as we have more concrete evidence of the former lieutenant’s involvement in these cases or until we rule him out. Gonzo and Cruz talked to the sister last night, learned there was a brother between her and Stahl who went missing in high school. We’re adding the name of Michael Stahl to the list of potential victims. In addition, Cindy, who is thirteen years younger than Stahl and shared his father, told them that Stahl came to live with them when he was thirteen due to an incident with his mother that involved the police. We’ll be looking for more information about that today.

  Sam responded to him to let him know that reporters traveling with them in Delaware had asked about Stahl’s connection to missing women.

  He wrote right back to that. Great.

  In a separate email, Malone had sent the files for two of the missing women, both of whom were originally from Delaware.

  Brittany Carter had grown up in the Wilmington area, the third child in a family of six siblings. Her father had worked in finance and her mother as a school librarian. After high school, Brittany moved to the District to work at a bank and had been arrested for public drunkenness and disorderly conduct on several occasions.

  According to the report, at some point she’d been fired from the bank and had become an escort. The family hadn’t learned that detail until much later. They’d suspected she was taking and possibly selling drugs, but had been unable to confirm that. Despite her troubles, they’d made the effort to stay in touch and to offer help that she’d rebuffed.

  And then she’d stopped returning their phone calls.

  Her parents had gone to DC to look for their daughter and had called the police when they were unsuccessful in locating her.

  Detective Leonard Stahl had responded to their call.

  Sam sighed as she sifted through the brief notes Stahl had made in the file about contacting her friends and known associates, interviews with her roommates at the time and the frustrating conclusion that she was known to go missing for days at a time before showing up like nothing had happened. Sam found no indication that he’d followed up.

  As she studied the photo of the young woman with pale skin, big green eyes and light brown hair, she was filled with despair to know he’d done so little to “investigate” her disappearance.

  And now Sam had to go see her parents, reopen the wound and remind them all over again how her department had failed to find their daughter. In fact, if current suspicions were true, the officer who’d investigated her disappearance might’ve killed her.

  Sam was astounded that she could still be shocked by anything Stahl had done—or not done. The sheer scope of his crimes was overwhelming.

  Caren Hans was originally from Newark, Delaware. She’d done a semester at Howard University before dropping out to work at a District restaurant. She’d quit her job a few months later and gone missing shortly after that, although her disappearance hadn’t immediately been reported by anyone. A few months had passed before her grandmother had reached out to the MPD. Again, the case had been assigned to Detective Stahl, who’d done the most basic investigation.

  It made Sam sick to think that he might’ve investigated crimes that he’d committed with no one the wiser that a killer worked among them.

  She did a quick search online and learned that Caren’s grandmother had died five years ago without ever knowing what had become of her grandchild. A sister had since checked in with the MPD only to be told there was no new information.

  Sam wrote down of the sister’s name—Cristen Hans Reid—and her address in the Newark area. Then she did a search to see how far Wilmington and Newark were from Dewey. About two hours each way. At least the two cities were close, so she could do both interviews in one trip.

  The last thing she wanted was burn a precious vacation day running down a cold case tied to that son of a bitch Stahl, but this was an all-hands-on-deck situation, and she was determined to help get answers for families who’d waited far too long already. The second-to-last thing she wanted was for anyone she worked with to think that she thought she was special because of her role as first lady. She wasn’t special on the job, and she was determined to stay that way.

  So she picked up the phone and called Brittany Carter’s mother, Theodora.

  “This is Lieutenant Sam Holland with the DC Metro Police Department.”

  As usual these days, the recitation of her name was met with silence.

  “Mrs. Carter?”

  “I’m here. You caught me off guard. The last thing I expected today was a call from the MPD or the first lady.”

  “I’m just a lieutenant on the job, ma’am, and I wanted to let you know we’re taking a fresh look at Brittany’s case. I wondered if I might come by tomorrow afternoon to go over a few things.”

  “You want to come here.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Would that be okay?”

  “Um, sure, I guess. Have you found her?”

  “No, we haven’t, but we’re pursuing some new leads.”

  “Why, after all this time, do you suddenly care about my daughter?”

  “I’ll explain that to you when I see you, if that’s all right. What time is good for you?”

  “Any time is fine.”

  “Would two o’clock work?”

  “Sure.”

  “Could I ask that you not tell anyone that I’m coming? I don’t want our meeting to turn into a three-ring circus. I’m sure you can understand.”

  “I won’t tell anyone but my husband.”

  “Thank you.”

  After Sam confirmed the address with her, she said she’d see her tomorrow. Next, she called Cristen Hans Reid and got the same stunned silence after she introduced herself.

  “We’re taking another look at your sister’s case, and I was wondering if I might come by tomorrow afternoon to go over some of the details with you.”

  “You want to come to my home after all this time to discuss my sister’s case?”

  Sam found the hostility in her tone more than understandable.

  “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “Why now?”

  “We’ve uncovered some new information that we’re actively pursuing. I wanted to update you on that and to fill in a few blanks on the original investigation.”

  “What investigation? The guy they assigned didn’t do shit to find her. We’ve had our own investigator working on it ever since, but he’s never come up with anything either.”