by Marie Force
“True. Would he have insight into her life that would be helpful to us?”
“I doubt it, but you know who might?”
“Who?”
“His Secret Service detail.”
“Would they tell us?”
“It’s a Homicide investigation. They’re obligated to tell us if they know anything material to the investigation.” The first opportunity she got, Sam hooked a left and headed toward Pennsylvania Avenue.
“Um, where’re we going?”
“To the White House.”
“Alrighty then.”
* * *
THERE WOULD NEVER come a time when it would be “routine” for Sam to swing by the White House, where her husband worked and where she had her own parking space.
Freddie glanced over his shoulder at the security checkpoint. “That was pretty fresh.”
“What was?”
“The way they waved you through to your own parking space.”
“I know people here.”
He laughed. “Yes, you do.”
“They’ll still need you to bend over and spread ’em before they’ll let you in.”
“Ew. Thanks for that visual.”
Inside, the Secret Service examined Freddie’s badge and waved him through with a minimum of fuss, probably because he was with her.
“Damn it. I was looking forward to you getting probed.”
“Sorry you’re disappointed.”
“I’ll get over it.” Sam made her way to Nick’s office, where she intended to ask John Brantley Jr., the head of Nick’s detail, to get her the people she needed to see from the president’s detail. And if she got five minutes with her husband during the workday? Bonus.
An entire team of receptionists was positioned outside of Nick’s office. Thankfully, these receptionists had been trained to suck up to her.
“Mrs. Cappuano,” one of them said. “This is a nice surprise. Does he know you’re coming?”
“No, he doesn’t, but if he’s free, I’d love to see him.”
“Let me check.” She rang Nick’s extension, told him his wife was there to see him and nodded, returning the extension to the unit on the desk. “He said—”
The door to his office swung open, and there he was, tall, handsome, beautiful in a gray suit with a light blue dress shirt and navy tie.
“Samantha.”
“Nicholas.”
He smiled. “Come in.”
To Freddie, she said, “Be right back.”
“No nooners allowed at the White House,” he muttered.
“Bite me.” Aware of several sets of eyes on them, she breezed past Nick into the office.
He shut the door and leaned back against it. “To what do I owe the honor of a midday visit from my gorgeous wife?”
She turned to face him. “I need information.” Taking two steps to close the distance between them, she added, “But first I need this.” With her hand on the back of his neck, she drew him into a kiss that she’d intended to be quick, but damn, the man could kiss.
Many minutes later, he said, “This rather shitty day just got a whole lot better.”
“Why is it shitty?”
“Oh, you know, the usual stuff, such as the Democratic National Committee chair once again pressuring me to have my ducks in a row just in case the president is forced to resign. That kind of thing.”
“I hate that you’re under so much pressure.”
“We also got two media inquiries this morning about why we aren’t moving to the Naval Observatory now that your father has passed away.”
Sam stared up at him. “For real?”
“Yep.”
“Please tell me we don’t have to move.”
“We don’t have to move. It’s another one of those manufactured stories that come up from time to time because I don’t give them anything else to use against me. I’m ignoring it, so don’t sweat it.”
“At least they gave us almost two weeks after he died before they came at us.”
“Decent of them.”
“Did Harry check your BP?”
“He was here earlier. When I told him you were concerned he did a check of it, and it’s completely normal.”
Sam gave him her best perp stare. “You’re not lying to me, are you?”
He huffed out a laugh. “Never. I’d like to think I know better than to try to lie to you.” He gazed down at her, taking a visual inventory of her features. “How’s your day going?”
“Not bad, not good. I’ve only gotten into a couple of fights so far.”
“A slow day then.”
She smiled. She did that a lot around him, the most perfect human to ever cross her path. “At times like this, right here, I wonder how I would’ve survived if you hadn’t been at my crime scene that day at the Watergate.”
“Me too. That day was the best and worst day of my life.” Sam knew that the murder of his former boss and best friend, Senator John O’Connor, was never far from his mind, nor was the fact that his career had taken off in the wake of John’s death. He wrestled with how it all had happened.
Reluctantly, Sam stepped back from him. “So I was wondering if I could talk to Brant about the Weber investigation.”
“What do you need from him?”
“Info about the president’s detail and what they might know about Nelson and Weber.”
Nick blew out a low whistle. “That’s a big ask. They’re trained to be circumspect about the things they see on the job. Protecting the privacy of their subjects is almost as important as their safety.”
“I understand that, and I’m not asking them to spill state secrets. I’d just like to know if they saw anything that might be cause for further investigation. This is a Homicide investigation. If they saw something, they’re obligated to share it. I’d also like to talk to Nelson’s top advisers from the campaign.”
“That’d be Derek and Tom Hanigan. They were the campaign managers for the reelection effort.”
“Thanks for that info. I’m going to use my office for these interviews.”
“Will you come by for another kiss before you leave?”
“I can do that.” She went up on tiptoe to kiss him. “There’s one to hold you over.”
He moaned. “I want to call in sick for the rest of this day and go home with you.”
“Not today, cowboy. But we should do that someday soon.”
“Yes, please.”
“Elijah is coming next weekend. Maybe we could talk him into hanging with all the kids for a night while we escape the madhouse.”
“Let’s make that happen. I’ll talk to him.”
“Something to look forward to.” She nudged him to get him to move so she could leave. “Ask Brant to come see me?”
“I will.”
She left him with a smile and returned to Freddie, cooling his heels in reception.
“All done with your booty call?”
“That was not a booty call.”
“Whatever you say, Lieutenant.”
Sam led him through the hallways to her office in the East Wing.
Lilia was coming out of Sam’s suite of offices as she approached the door. “What’re you doing here?”
“Hello to you too.” Lilia always amused Sam. They had become friends under the most unlikely of circumstances.
“I meant to say, hello, Mrs. Cappuano. It’s a pleasure to see you.”
Sam laughed. “Sure, it is. I need to use my office for a couple of meetings relating to my other job.”
“Oh.” Even though no one else was nearby, Lilia glanced around to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard. “The Weber investigation?”
“Yes.”
Lilia lowered her voice. “People here are outraged by what
he did.”
“People everywhere seem to be outraged by it. Gloria is very well liked.”
“She certainly is, especially inside this building.” After another look around, Lilia lowered her voice to a whisper. “You don’t suspect him, do you?”
“Not at the moment.”
“Oh, okay. I guess that’s good, right?”
“Ah yeah, it’s good.” She continued to believe that Nelson had nothing to gain by killing the woman after the story of the affair had already leaked. That reminded her that she needed to circle back to Darren about whether he’d figured out the origin of the story.
Brant approached them. “You wanted to see me, Mrs. Cappuano?”
“I did, Brant. Come in. Excuse us, Lilia.” Sam led Brant and Freddie into her office and closed the door. “I wondered if you could help me get in touch with the agents who were on the president’s detail during the campaign.”
“I can do that, but they won’t talk to you about his personal business.”
“I’m not going to ask them to, but I will ask them if they have any information about who might’ve wanted Tara dead.”
“Fair enough. Let me make a call.”
Sam gestured to the extension on her desk and then walked across the room to the seating area where Freddie had made himself comfortable.
“This is sick. I still can’t believe you have an office in the White House.”
“Believe me, neither can I. Not that it gets much use.” She often felt guilty about the small amount of time she gave to being second lady, but Nick had no qualms. At least not that he’d shared with her. “I should spend more time here.”
“You don’t have time to spend anywhere but at work and at home.”
“I know, and that’s why I suck at being second lady.”
“You show up when it matters. People are still talking about your infertility speech. That meant so much to so many.”
“I guess.”
Brant ended his call and came over to them. “They’ll be here in a few minutes. We got lucky. Most of the people you need to see are in the building today.”
“That’s great,” Sam said. “We never get lucky on this job.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
A FEW MINUTES LATER, Brant admitted Agents Robert Mercer, Olivia Jenson and Hank Reynolds, and introduced them to Sam and Freddie.
“Thanks for making the time to meet with us.” Sam gestured for them to have a seat on the sofa. “I understand that you were three of the agents on President Nelson’s detail during the campaign.”
“We were,” Jenson said.
“Were you aware that he was involved in an affair with Tara Weber?”
“We aren’t at liberty to speak about the president’s personal business,” Mercer said.
“I understand and respect your position, but what I’m looking for is a sense of whether this was a well-kept secret or something everyone was aware of.”
“We aren’t at liberty to discuss the president’s personal business,” Reynolds said.
Sam realized they weren’t going to budge on that, so she changed tactics. “What can you tell me about Ms. Weber and the role she played on the campaign?”
“She was a pollster and strategist,” Mercer said. “She was a central figure in the campaign.”
“Do you know of anyone related to the campaign who might’ve had a beef with her?”
“She tangled with Hanigan a lot,” Jenson said. “They often disagreed about the strategy. But it was all professional disagreement as far as I saw.”
“I concur,” Reynolds said. “They frequently disagreed, but it was always regarding the campaign. It wasn’t personal.”
“That’s very helpful,” Sam said. “Is there anything else you can tell me about her that might be helpful in determining who killed her?”
“I can’t think of anything,” Jenson said. “It wasn’t our job to pay attention to her as anything other than someone who was around the president during the campaign.”
Sam handed each of them a business card. “If you think of anything else that might be relevant, please get in touch. No detail is too small.” After they took the cards from her, she thanked them for their time.
They got up and left the room.
“Did I detect a chill in the air?” Sam asked Brant when the three of them were alone again.
“Not that I’m aware of,” Brant said.
“Could it be they think I should have a detail and are annoyed that I don’t?”
“That’s possible,” Brant said, “but I’ve never heard any of them come right out and say that.”
“Would they say it to you as Nick’s lead agent?”
“I honestly don’t know that, ma’am.”
Sam realized she was putting the agent on the spot and backed off. “Thank you for your help.”
“Anytime.”
After he left, she asked Lilia to ask Derek Kavanaugh to come see her. After the insight provided by the agents regarding Tara’s tumultuous relationship with Hanigan, Sam decided to see the two men separately.
Derek Kavanaugh arrived at her door ten minutes later. “You wanted to see me?”
“Hi there. Come in. Thanks for making the time.”
“Sure. What’s up?” He had light brown hair, warm brown eyes and a wiry but muscular build.
“We’re investigating Tara Weber’s murder.”
“Oh. Right.” His eyes held the haunted gaze of a man whose own life had been touched by murder.
“I know this strikes close to home for you,” Sam said gently to the man who was a close friend of Nick’s and thus hers as well. “But we’re looking for any insight you can give us about the relationship between Tara and the president during the campaign.”
“I didn’t travel with the campaign because I have Maeve and couldn’t leave her for that long.” His daughter had been just over a year old when his wife, Victoria, was murdered. They’d recently celebrated Maeve’s second birthday. “So I wasn’t there for whatever went on.”
“Did you hear about it from others who were there?”
He shrugged. “There were rumblings.”
“What sort of rumblings?”
“That they seemed cozy. That was the word Tom Hanigan used to describe it to me.”
“Was he concerned? Were you?”
“Yeah, we both were. We were concerned about the optics of him appearing cozy with one of his staffers and what would happen if the press noticed they were spending a lot of time together.”
“Were you aware that Mrs. Nelson was undergoing cancer treatment at that time?”
“We knew something was up with her, because she wasn’t available to campaign with him the way she’d been the first time. We didn’t know what exactly until after the inauguration when he confided in us that she’d received good news. He was elated, telling us she was cancer free. Tom and I were stunned to hear that she’d had cancer in the first place. We commented later that we were surprised they’d been able to keep something like that from us, but they’d pulled it off.”
“How did they pull it off?”
“She sought treatment at MD Anderson in Houston. The hospital staff worked with the Secret Service to ensure her privacy was maintained. When she basically disappeared from public life for six months, it was explained as a family situation that no one questioned. All eyes were focused on the campaign at that time, so she was able to quietly disappear.”
“If you and Tom noticed the president and Ms. Weber were cozy, as you put it, surely others did too. Is that the case?”
“People were definitely talking. Tom had a conversation with Tara. He told her she was being cut from the traveling staff.”
“What did she say?”
“You’d have to ask him for the specifics, but the
president intervened and said she would continue to travel with the team. Basically, Tom was overruled.”
“And how did Tom take that?”
“He wasn’t happy. He felt the president’s behavior was foolish and risky and so far out of character as to be worrisome.”
“How so?”
“David Nelson isn’t a man who takes unnecessary risks, especially in his political career. He’s always played by the book, but in this case, he seemed to lose all perspective at the worst possible time.”
“Was he in love with her?”
“I guess he probably was since he risked everything to be with her.” Derek leaned in, his expression intense. “I want to be clear—I didn’t approve of what he was doing and not just as his employee. It disgusted me as a man and a husband. Or, well, a former husband. Gloria deserved better than to be humiliated in this way. It was infuriating to me that he would take chances not only with his political reputation but with his personal life too. A lot of people depend on him, and I felt like he was letting us all down.” He sat back in his chair, slumping as if the fight had gone out of him. “I almost quit during the campaign.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“For the same reason I haven’t quit since the affair became public. I need the job. I have a daughter to support. During the campaign, I was still getting used to being a single parent. The thought of starting over was more than I cared to take on at that time. So I stayed, even though I was appalled.”
“Did the relationship continue after the campaign?”
“I believe it did.”
“How?” Sam struggled to figure out the logistics of an affair with one of the most well-protected men on earth.
“One-on-one ‘strategy’ sessions.” Derek made air quotes around the word “strategy.” “The sessions continued well into the new administration.”
Sam wrinkled her nose. “They were fooling around in the Oval Office?”
“Obviously, I don’t know that for sure, but that’s the theory.”
“Ugh, this is so seedy.”
“Believe me, I know. The thing I never understood is why someone who had everything he does would risk his reputation, his legacy, his family, his marriage... I just don’t get it.”
