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My phone rings as I reach for the door to the house.

I always find people brave enough to actually call me interesting creatures destined to either earn my respect or wrath. Since I have God knows how many murders at this point to solve, I decide now’s a good time to reward their bravery. Caller ID shows an “unknown” number, which lends to a good chance this is either the president or Ghost. I’d prefer the latter, as ending Ghost means no more calls from the president.

At least, I sure as fuck hope it means that.

“Agent Mendez,” I answer, claiming Mendez over Love, considering my husband has apparently made my gangster status official.

“Special Agent Love-Mendez.”

“Mr. President,” I greet, because I can be respectful. I just don’t respect a whole lot of people. The leader of the free world gets it, though, at least until I find out he’s a bigger gangster than Kane.

“I assume we have a problem,” he prods.

“Have you talked to Director Ellis?”

“I have not. Should I have?”

“He’s radio silent,” I explain. “I assume this line is clear?”

“It is.”

It is oh so clear and yet not clear at all, and I press, “Is it recorded, or is anyone listening?”

“No to both.”

He sounds certain even if I am not. But he knows he has two dead directors. I have to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume if he can run a country, he can find a private line to make a phone call. “We have a hit list that may match the members of a committee Ellis himself was on,” I state. “I believe the vice president was a member as well. I’d lock him down until I notify you otherwise.”

There are three silent beats, and then, “That’s disconcerting. Have we lost Ellis?”

“I don’t like to assume, Mr. President. Ellis gave me the committee list. He’s missing. I think we’re both intelligent enough to know that leaves a lot of room for assumption but no proof.”

“What do we know?”

“Not enough, and when high-level officials are targets, I’m not comfortable saying more. I don’t want my target warned I’m on my way.”

“Then you have a target?”

“More than one.”

He’s silent another few beats. “You don’t trust Ellis.” It’s not a question, and he doesn’t wait for an answer nor ask an explanation. “What about Adams?”

“Forgive me, Mr. President, but I don’t even trust you. You are, after all, the number one politician in the world. And you know what they say about politicians? The only time he tells the truth is when he calls another politician a liar.”

He chuckles. “I like you, agent. My mother-in-law would like you as well. That’s her favorite joke.”

“Is it a joke?”

He’s back to chuckling. “You really don’t give two fucks that I’m the president, and it’s a ray of sunshine in a city of hogwash.”

“Hogwash again?”

“I speak with delicate words but mark my words, when I go to battle, I fight bloody and fiercely. What else, agent?”

“The VP would be smart to hire private security.”

“Done. Keep in contact.”

“Done.”

He disconnects.

I dial Ellis again, and when I land in voicemail, I curse. If anyone knows Murphy and what Murphy was up to, it was Ellis. I really don’t want him to be dirty. Or dead.

My phone rings, and I glance down to find Adams’ number. Huh. Right after I talk to the president. What are the odds? And yet, I’m not sure the president had time to call him. Unless he was with the president? Irritated by the games I seem to be forced to play, I answer with, “Who’s this?”

“You know who this is, Special Agent Mendez.”

“No. No, I really don’t. Because the acting director of the FBI would be here right now, helping catch the person killing off directors, and since you are not, you must be an imposter. Or the acting director with something to gain.”

“Keep it coming, agent. I expect nothing less from you. I’m on my way to Maryland.”

Now he has my attention. “Why Maryland?”

“Ellis called me and said if he didn’t contact me in twelve hours, he’s dead, and I should go get his body. He’s not answering. I trust you have things under control there, because I was in depositions today for a case that went south on Murphy’s watch. I’ll be back in court on Monday, unless Ellis went and got himself killed. Is there anything I need to know, aside from the fact that Elsa Walker is a sniper?”

Clearly Ellis did talk to him. I’m just not sure if it was in the context of a cover-up or solving the case. “I’d have to trust you to tell you what you need to know, and right now, I do not.”

He grunts. “All right, then. Here’s to hoping you aren’t picking up me and Ellis in body bags.” He disconnects.

I stand there and consider my phone calls and decide I really can’t trust any of them. Which is, as the president would say, a bunch of hogwash.