“Please tell me it’s not going to turn out to have something to do with him being related to me and Nick. That would wreck us forever.”
“As you well know, it could be anything, but if you ask me, that’s a long shot. What possible motive could someone have for snatching the nephew of the first lady?”
“So many people hate me, Freddie. You know that. I’ve made enemies on the job, arrested a lot of people who have families and friends who could seek revenge against me. What better way than to snatch one of the precious kids in my life because they can’t get to mine?”
“You’re not asking me,” Vernon said, glancing at her in the mirror, “but I think that’d be a very unlikely scenario.”
“Why do you say that?”
“For one thing, if there was any kind of threat against either of your extended families, we’d probably know about it.”
“You would? Even if it involved my sisters’ families?”
“Even if. We’re not actively protecting them, but we keep an eye on everyone close to you.”
“Including me?” Freddie asked, sounding incredulous.
“Everyone.”
“Wow, that’s kind of crazy,” Freddie said.
“It’s not in any way as violating as it can be for the people under our protection. It’s more of a thirty-thousand-foot view.”
“I’m oddly comforted to know that,” Sam said.
“Whereas I’m oddly freaked out,” Freddie said with a small grin that let her know he was teasing.
Vernon chuckled. “I promise you it’s nothing invasive. Just eyes and ears to make sure the people around you aren’t being targeted due to their proximity to you and the president.”
“Very interesting,” Freddie said. “Does it include my wife?”
“Everyone close to the first couple.”
“What defines closeness?” Sam asks.
“The people who’d matter most if they were used to get to you.”
Sam swallowed hard at the thought of anyone they loved being used in such a way, but she was comforted to know that if someone was targeting her young nephew, the Secret Service might’ve picked up on it. She wondered how much Nick knew about the wide net the agency cast to protect their loved ones.
When they pulled up to the Ahern home off Bates Street Northwest in the Truxton Circle neighborhood, every light in the house appeared to be on, and cars were double-parked outside.
Vernon pulled up behind one of the cars and put on the hazards. He got out to hold the door for Sam. “Stay with the car, Q.”
“Yes, sir.”
Escorted by Vernon, Sam and Freddie made their way to the spacious front porch, which was full of people. Sam wanted to groan at how the home being overrun with visitors would make for a more complicated investigation for the Crime Scene detectives.
When a woman on the porch saw them coming, she let out a scream. “Why’d they send her? Is our baby dead? Oh God, please no!”
“She’s not dead that we know of.” Sam spoke loudly, trying to be heard over the racket the woman was making. “We’re investigating other missing kids and were informed about Luna. Where’re her parents?”
“They’re inside,” the screamer said. “I’m sorry. She’s my niece, and when I saw you, I thought the worst.”
“It’s okay. Will you take me to her parents, please?”
The other people gathered on the porch gawked at Sam as the aunt cut a path to the front door and led them to a room where a man and woman were seated on a love seat, staring at their phones, seemingly willing them to ring.
“Jordy, Court, the police are here. Other kids are missing, too, and the first lady is investigating.”
