The words seemed to burst out of her, one after another, each one full of resentment at having to reveal such personal details to Sam, of all people.
“Who would’ve known about you sleeping with him?”
“No one knew, and no one ever would’ve known if the Secret Service hadn’t betrayed my privacy.”
“Privacy? Is that a thing when you’re the vice president of the United States? Because I can speak from some experience on that. Everything is public when you hold one of the top two offices in the country.”
“Some things should be off-limits.”
“If you were so concerned for Sergei’s safety, why didn’t you notify anyone that he was in the country and possibly in danger?”
For the first time, she looked a bit contrite. “Because he asked me not to. He was working on a number of avenues to raise funding and support while he was here. If the word got out that he was in the country, it would impair his efforts. He always travels under an assumed name and had gone to some effort and expense to ensure his alias would allow him to move freely.”
“That you know all that sounds an awful lot like you aiding a foreign national in a plan to overthrow his government while serving as vice president of the United States.”
“I wasn’t helping him. I merely didn’t disclose he was here.”
“Which could be viewed as a criminal offense, right?”
“I didn’t see it that way.”
Sam wondered what the federal authorities would conclude after their investigation. “What’re your relationships with your ex-husbands like these days?”
The question took her aback and seemed to offend her, for all Sam cared. “I haven’t talked to one of them in seventeen years. The other is the father of my children, so we’re in regular contact.”
“Only about the kids?”
“We get together once in a while. Nothing serious.”
“Does he know it’s not serious?”
“Of course he does. We’re not together, and we’re not going to be together, even if I’m so incredibly happy for how he’s turned his life around. I wish he could’ve done that when we were married. It would’ve saved us all a lot of heartache.”
“What’s his name again?”
“Why does that matter?”
“Because I asked. In a homicide investigation, everything matters.”
“His name is Curtis.”
“Henderson?”
She nodded.
“And where does he live?”
“In Arlington.”
“The address?”
“Please… You can’t drag him into this. He’s doing so well after such a terrible ordeal… I wouldn’t want to do anything to risk that.”
“Have you done something that would risk his recovery?”
“No! Of course not. My children adore him. I’d never want him to suffer a setback, because that would hurt them.”
“What’s his address?”
