Sam tapped her fingers on the counter. She was giving him one minute to show his face before she went back there. Dropping her hand to her side, she checked her service weapon, which was exactly where it was supposed to be. Maybe she shouldn’t have come here alone.

The receptionist came out just as Sam’s deadline was about to kick in. “Right this way,” she said.

Sam walked to the back of the narrow office and into James Donlon’s paneled office. It looked a lot like Jim Rockford’s office in The Rockford Files. In other words, right out of the seventies. Donlon himself, however, was right out of the nineties. He was about thirty, with shaggy blond hair that needed to be cut and several days’ worth of stubble on his jaw.

“I know who you are,” he said, his brown eyes big with recognition and perhaps a bit of hero worship.

“Thanks,” Sam said to the receptionist, dismissing her. Thankfully, the young woman got the hint and left the room. “Talk to me about Bill Springer.”

Donlon’s expression changed immediately, indicating he had zero poker face. “His wife hired me to keep an eye on him.”

“So I’ve heard, and I’m sure you’re well aware of why I’m here.”

“I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you’re asking. I would’ve had no good reason to kill him. His wife has been keeping me flush for years now.”

“What do you know about who did kill him?”

“I didn’t actually see it happen. I was outside in my car, keeping an eye on the building. I couldn’t get much closer to him without blowing my cover.”

“Did you see anyone go into the building after nine p.m. last night?”

“This is where it gets messy.”

“How so?”

“I fell asleep. I didn’t see anything after eight thirty. I woke up at twelve thirty, saw that Springer’s car was still in the lot and went home. I heard about what happened after his wife called me to tell me he was dead. I feel awful that I didn’t see anything that can help.”

Sam felt awful too as a promising lead fizzled in the face of his incompetence.

“I had an all-night stakeout for another client the night before, so I was beat.”

“Can you tell me if you’ve seen anyone around Springer in the last few weeks who might’ve been suspicious or if you witnessed any arguments he had with anyone?”

“Only with his wife. She hates his guts. I mean, seriously, I might never get married after watching those two in action.”

“How do you mean?”

“She blames him for what happened to Hugo and Billy. She says her babies are dead because of him, even though he wasn’t the one who did the killing. He may as well have, she would say. You ever see that movie about the chick who boiled the guy’s bunny?”

“Fatal Attraction?”

“Yeah, that’s it. She reminds me of that chick. Scary mean.”

“Did you ever see her strike her husband or try to harm him in any way?”

“No, nothing like that. She did her best work with her words. I have surveillance equipment in his office, and the stuff I witnessed—”

“Wait, you have surveillance equipment in his office?”

“Yeah, why?”

“That’s where he was killed. Can you call up the video from last night?”

“I was just about to do that when you came in. I only got the call from Mrs. S about ten minutes ago.”

Sam wanted to tell him to shut up and start clicking, but she didn’t want to piss him off when he had access to information she needed. Without being invited, she got up and went around his desk to watch over his shoulder.

“So why don’t you have Secret Service?”

“Because I don’t need them.”

“It’s not required?”

“Only for the president, vice president, president-elect and VP-elect. Everyone else can decline it.” She’d answered that question no more than five hundred times since Nick became the vice president.

“That’s cool. So you got to keep your job.”

“Yep.”

“Huh, well that’s odd.”

“What’s odd?” Sam asked with a sinking feeling in her belly.

He did some more furious clicking of images on his screen that showed the hallway and reception area. And then the screen went gray. “What the fuck?” More furious clicking and more blank screens. “Someone fucked with my cameras.”

Sam should’ve known it was too good to be true. “Who else knew they were there?”

“Besides me? Only Mrs. S.”

“You’ve been very helpful. Thank you.”

“What the hell could’ve happened to my cameras?”

“I’ll leave you to figure that out.” Sam walked out of his office and strolled past the receptionist, nodding to the woman.

“Excuse me. Mrs. Cappuano?”

Sam gritted her teeth, bit back the nasty retort and had to remind herself that she was, in fact, Mrs. Cappuano, even if she’d prefer to be Lieutenant Holland on the job. “Yes?”

“Do you think I could have your autograph? My friends are never going to believe I met you.”

The only thing that could’ve made this better was if Freddie had been there to laugh about it with her afterward. “Um.” In that moment she thought of Nick and how much he did to support her career. Would it kill her to do something to support his? It might. It truly might. “Sure. What’s your name?”

“Destiny.”

“Of course it is.” Sam took the piece of paper and pen that Destiny provided and wrote, “To Destiny, it was nice to meet you. Samantha Cappuano.” She handed it over to Destiny, who’d withdrawn her phone from her purse. Sam drew the line at selfies. “Take it easy.” She was out the door before the request could be made. On the way to her car, she took a call from Marissa Springer.

“I was wondering if you might stop by again. I thought of a few more things that might be useful to the investigation.”

Since she had a few more questions for Marissa after interviewing Donlon, Sam said, “Sure, I’ll come by in a few.”

“Thank you so much.”

She got into her car and called Harry, grimacing when his voice mail picked up. “Hey, it’s Sam again. If you get this message, never mind about Marissa Springer. I’ve changed my mind about her deserving Dr. Flynn’s brand of TLC. See you at the White House.”

At a red light, she took advantage of the opportunity to reply to a text with a photo from Nick. It’s surreal that this is my office now. How’s the day going? Will you be able to make the reception?

Before him, before them, she never would’ve left an investigation as hot as this one was getting to attend a party. But how many times would he start a new job in the White freaking House? She was going to that reception.

I’ll be there with bells on, she wrote. Will they let me in?

He wrote right back. They’d better. You’re the second lady!

Do they know that? Haha!

Come with Scotty and his detail. That will make everything easier. The SS showed me to my office today. I wouldn’t have had a clue where it was without them.

Got a few things to do before I head home. Will see you at the WH. Love you, Mr. VP.

Love you too, babe. Hope you’re being careful out there.

I’m always careful.

The light turned and she hit the gas, anxious to tie up some loose ends so she could get to the party. This would be her first official duty as second lady. Hopefully she wouldn’t fuck it up in some massive way that would give the White House press corps something to talk about forever.

She never had changed out of the suit she’d worn for the TV appearance. Hopefully, that would be good enough for the White freaking House too. Sam drove back the way she’d come and turned on to MacArthur Boulevard a few minutes later. After she turned off the car, she glanced at her phone to see if Nick had texted again. There was nothing from him, but there was one from Gonzo.

I’m back in town. What can I do LT?

I’ve got one quick thing to do and then I’ll be back at the house. Will see you then.

Sounds good.

Sam tossed her phone into the passenger seat, got out of the car and headed up the sidewalk to Marissa Springer’s home. After she asked Marissa if she had monitored the cameras in her husband’s office the night before and heard whatever it was Marissa needed to tell her, she’d be on her way to HQ to reconnect with her team before she had to leave for the party.