Page 6 of State of Retribution (First Family #9)

“Judging by the size of the crowd, that’s a safe assumption. Shall we?”

“After you, my friend.”

“Is it weird that this feels scarier than it did before yesterday?”

“Not at all. It’s totally understandable, and we do have other people who could do this.”

“No,” she said firmly, “it has to be me, or whoever is gunning for us will celebrate running me out of the job. I can’t give them the satisfaction.”

“Proud of you,” the chief said quietly. “And he would be, too.”

“Don’t make me cry before I face the jackals.”

“My apologies. Please proceed.”

Having him—and Vernon—by her side made her feel better about stepping into the scrum of reporters, who began clamoring for information the second they cleared the doorway.

As usual, Sam stood at the podium and stared at a spot in the distance until they quit shouting questions at her.

She spotted Jimmy and two other agents she recognized but couldn’t name off the top of her head positioned around the perimeter of the gathering. Vernon stood behind her.

The reporters finally realized they’d get nothing until they shut up. She found it amusing that they had to relearn that lesson every time.

“On Saturday evening at around eleven thirty, Lorraine Sweeny, age sixty-two, was walking home in Southeast after taking the Metro from her job as a nurse at Green Acres Nursing Home. While walking through a poorly lit area, she was struck in the back of her head by an assailant. When she didn’t arrive home at the usual time, her husband checked her location on his phone, saw that she wasn’t moving and ran to find her.

She was deceased when he arrived. Lorraine was the mother of four, the grandmother of five and was weeks away from retirement. ”

“What are you hearing about the investigation into the drones that were set on attacking the Easter Egg Roll?”

Sam glanced at the reporter who’d asked the question and gave him a look that she hoped made his balls shrivel.

“I’m briefing you on three homicides that transpired in recent days.

If you’re here for information about anything other than that, you’ll leave disappointed.

On Sunday evening, while out jogging in Adams Morgan, thirty-six-year-old Nate Andrews, an analyst at the Department of Labor, was similarly struck in the back of the head.

He was transported to GW Trauma and passed away this morning.

He leaves his wife and two children, one of them a newborn.

“In the early hours of this morning, after leaving work at the restaurant where she waitressed, twenty-two-year-old college student Alexa Prescott was hit from behind on 14 th Street and died at the scene.

After growing up in the foster system, Alexa was attending Marymount on an academic scholarship.

“The MPD is asking the public for any information you may have on any of these deadly attacks.” Sam recited the number for the tip line twice.

“In addition, we’re urging citizens to be vigilant while walking at night, especially in poorly lit areas.

I’ll take a few questions about this case—and only this case. ”

She nodded to a TV reporter with brown hair. She didn’t recognize her as one of the regulars. “As first lady, is it safe for you to be outside right now?”

“Next.” She pointed to Darren Tabor, her sorta friend from The Washington Star , hoping he’d play by the rules.

“Are there security cameras in the areas of the attacks?”

“Our IT team is actively looking for any video that might’ve been captured, but the attacks took place in dark areas, which we believe was intentional to avoid camera detection. Citizens and visitors need to be extremely careful about walking outside at night while this suspect is still at large.”

“Are you treating the cases as related?” another reporter asked.

“Due to the similarities of the three attacks, we’re operating under that assumption until we have more information. That’s all for now. We’ll provide updates as we have them.”

“Are you scared, Sam?” Darren asked.

She stopped, turned to look back at him. “No, I’m not scared. I’m angry that someone would threaten an event full of families and children and also thankful for the many people and systems that prevented a tragedy.”

With that, she went inside, feeling resentful and resigned at the same time.

“They can’t help themselves,” Farnsworth said.

“They should try a little harder to follow the rules.”

“What fun would that be for them?”

She hoped her scowl spoke for itself.

“People are concerned. I suppose that’s to be expected with something like this.”

“I wish they’d pose those questions to the White House press office rather than expecting me to speak for Nick or his administration. Has there ever been anyone less qualified to do that than I am?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

She laughed. “Thank you. I needed that levity.”

“What’s your feeling on this new case?”

“I don’t have one yet, but if I did, it would probably include rage.

A hardworking, soon-to-be-retired nurse, a young father, a college student working to put herself through school.

It angers me that they were struck down on our streets for no good reason.

My first order of business is to dig for connections between the vics, but I’m not thinking we’ll find any. ”

“Still, we need to rule that out.”

“That’s the plan.”

“I’ll let you get to it. I’m here if you need anything.”

“It helps to know that. Thank you.”

“You got it, kid.”

He talked to her like that only when no one else was around, and him calling her “kid” made her feel loved and supported in a way that only he and Malone could do now that her dad was gone.

They’d recently told her they intended to postpone retirement to stay close to her while Nick was in office.

They said it was what Skip would want them to do as his best friends. She’d wept when they said that.

Soon it would be six whole months since that dreadful day in October when Skip had failed to wake up.

As Sam walked back to the pit, she tried to shake off the despondency that came with remembering that morning on Ninth Street.

Some memories were forever, though, and as much as she’d prefer to forget it, that one would stay with her for the rest of her life.

“How’d it go?” Freddie asked.

“Not bad, all things considered. Massive gathering, but only a few questions that pissed me off. Do you have the addresses for the vics?”

“Yeah.”

“Then let’s hit the road.”