He grunted out a laugh. “Go give that overactive imagination of yours a rest for a few hours. I’ll see you on TV.”

“Yeah, yeah, stop enjoying that so much.”

“I’m going to enjoy watching you seethe when they ask you personal questions.”

“I need to think of something wildly inappropriate that I can say if they ask me personal crap.”

“I’m no politician, but something tells me Nick won’t approve of that.”

“I know,” she said glumly. “He ruins all my fun.”

Suddenly exhausted as the adrenaline of the day drained from her system, Sam pushed herself off the car. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Call me if anything pops.”

“Will do.”

Sam drove the two blocks to her home on Ninth Street, where she had to show ID to park in front of her own house. Thankfully, the neighbors had been cool about the increased security, mostly because they all loved Skip and knew how much he liked having Sam and her family nearby.

Everyone loved Skip, but no one more so than her, or so she thought. Sam got out of her car, took a longing glance at her own home and headed for her dad’s house, entering with a quick knock to the front door.

Celia was on the sofa, a glass of white wine in hand and the TV on. “Hey,” she said when Sam came in. “Just getting home?”

“Yep. Happy New Year to me. Lori, the mother of Gonzo’s son, was found dead in a car this morning.”

“I heard about that on the news. Tell me there’s no truth to him being a suspect.”

“No truth whatsoever, but why should the press let the truth get in the way of a good story?”

Celia shook her head in dismay. “I couldn’t believe what I was hearing earlier.”

“I think someone has gone to some effort to make it look like he could’ve done it.”

“He must be beside himself.”

“He is,” Sam said, as she added a call to her friend and colleague to her before-bed to-do list. “How’s our patient?”

“Sleeping comfortably after a rough day.” Celia raised the wineglass. “Now I’m medicating myself.” Celia snickered at her own joke. The laugh turned into a sob almost instantaneously. “Sorry.” She covered her mouth. “It just...hard. It’s really hard to see him this way. I don’t know how much more he can take.”

Sam reached for her stepmother and hugged her.

“Sorry to be so maudlin. I think I might be a little drunk.”

Laughing, Sam pulled back so she could see Celia’s face. “Can’t say I blame you for that.”

“I was so hoping we might get some sort of miracle from the surgery. I’m ashamed to admit I had all my eggs in that basket when I certainly knew the realities. I just never imagined this scenario.”

“None of us did.”

“He asked me about the pills in the safe-deposit box.”

Sam went cold all over at the thought of those pills and what they were for. “No. We’re not there yet.”

“He is, honey. His quality of life has gone from bad to awful, and the more time he spends in bed, the greater the risk of secondary infection.” Leaning her head back against the sofa, she looked at Sam. “I’m not going to let this go on indefinitely. I made promises to him that I intend to keep.”

Celia’s words struck terror in Sam’s heart, but she didn’t fault her stepmother. She didn’t want her father to live in agony either. “I’m going to talk to the doctors again tomorrow. There’s got to be something they can do that’s not been tried yet.”

“I appreciate your help the same way I have since the surgery.”

“Just give me a couple of days, okay?”

Celia reached out to brush the tears off Sam’s face. “Okay.”

Sam hugged her again. “I’m going to kiss him good-night.” She got up and cut through the kitchen to get to her father’s bedroom in what used to be the dining room. A hallway light lit her way into the room, where she bent over the hospital bed to kiss his forehead. The one improvement since the surgery was that he no longer required the respirator while in bed. Under normal circumstances, that would’ve been hailed as a major victory.

His eyes fluttered open. “Hey, baby girl.”

“Hey, Skippy. Didn’t mean to wake you. Just wanted to say good night.”

“Glad you did. Long day, huh?”

“No worse than usual.”

“Heard the shit on the news about Gonzo.”

“It’s total shit and not true.”

“Figured as much.”

“We’ve got a few threads to pull tomorrow. We’ll figure it out.”

“You always do. Saw your boy earlier. Love that kid.”

Sam rested her hand on his shoulder and brushed the hair back from his forehead, which felt warm to the touch. Another pang of fear assailed her when she tried to conceive of life without him at the center of it where he belonged. “He loves you too.”

“You should get home to your boys and get some rest while you can.”

“Will you be able to sleep?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about me.”

“Right...” She leaned over to kiss him. “Love you, Skippy.”

“Love you too, baby girl.”

Sam left him to sleep and went back to the living room. “He’s awake and feeling a bit feverish if you ask me.”

“I’ll check on him.”

“You’ll let me know if you need me, right? Anytime—day or night.”

“I know where to find you. Thanks, honey. You girls and your families have been a godsend to both of us. You should see the way your dad lights up when Scotty comes to visit.”

“Scotty adores him.” She leaned over to kiss Celia. “Hang in there. I’ll check in tomorrow.”

“See you then.”

Her heart heavy and burdened by her father’s deteriorating health, Sam left his house and headed down the ramp. In the three years since he’d been shot, their lives had been a roller-coaster ride with more downs than ups, especially lately. They’d known, of course, that they were living on borrowed time. The surgery had given them hope that had been dashed in the weeks since. Things weren’t getting better. They were getting worse by the day.

As she trudged up the ramp to her house, she was further disturbed by the unsettling thought that if her father died, they wouldn’t need the ramp anymore. “No,” she said out loud. “He’s not going to die. That’s not going to happen.”

The agent working the door opened it for her. “Good evening, Mrs. Cappuano.”

“Hi.” As she wondered if he’d heard her talking to herself, she took off her coat and laid it over the sofa.

Nick came out of the kitchen wearing an apron and looking positively adorable in the new Harvard T-shirt she’d bought him for Christmas and the worn, faded jeans she loved on him. Sexiest vice president in the history of the universe. “Hey, babe.”

Sam wanted to shake off her worries to focus only on him and Scotty, but the sight of his handsome face broke the grip she’d had on her emotions.

Fortunately, he realized right away and took her by the hand to tow her to the kitchen. “Could we have the room, please?” he asked the agent, who was sitting at the table reading the paper.

“Of course.” The agent got up and left the room.

Nick put his arms around her. “What’s wrong?”

“Where’s Scotty?”

“He went upstairs as soon as there were dishes to be done. Talk to me, babe.”

“My dad... I just saw him and Celia. It’s bad and getting worse.”

“I know. Scotty was upset about it earlier too. He asked why there’s nothing we can do. I told him I’d make some calls tomorrow.”

“Like official calls?”

“Are there any other kind from the White House?”

“Can’t you get in trouble for that?”

“For reaching out to some of the best doctors in our country who might be able to help my father-in-law, a high-ranking police officer who was shot in the line of duty? Let them make a thing of that for all I care.”

Sam tightened her hold on him and breathed in his familiar scent. His nearness calmed her in a way that nothing else could. “You should care. This is a whole new ball game for you.”

“Trust me when I tell you I don’t care. If it blows up into a huge scandal but we find some help for him, I still won’t care.”