“Do you have any comment on the firing of your husband’s vice president?”
“Nope. Next.”
“How did the Russians gain access to the morgue through a door that’s normally kept locked?”
“We believe they came in as others were rushing out after the explosion.”
“And they were able to carry a body out of your building without being stopped?”
“The attention of everyone in and around the building was focused on the site of the explosion, which was their intent, of course. A young woman who was a witness in another case happened to be in the morgue when they came in, and our theory is that they took her to keep her from reporting the theft of the body the second it happened. We didn’t discover the body missing until about thirty minutes after the bombing.”
“What security measures will be put in place to keep something like this from happening again?”
“That’s being discussed internally, but I expect to see greatly enhanced security, which is actually a sad development. With our department’s focus on community policing, we’d prefer to have a welcoming, open atmosphere here at HQ, but keeping our team safe is an urgent priority, so appropriate measures will be taken as a result of this tragic event.”
She was about to walk away when another reporter asked, “Were you concerned the bombing was targeting you as the president’s wife?”
The question stopped her cold. Did she tell the truth or blow it off? “Maybe for a second, but the blast was nowhere near where I work in the building, so that possibility was quickly dismissed.”
“But it was considered?”
“Not officially. Thank you all.”
Hopefully, she’d shut down speculation about the bombing possibly targeting her. She ducked into a side door adjacent to the main entrance and walked around the crime scene tape to get back to the pit.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Lieutenant.”
She turned toward the ATF agent who’d called out to her. “Yes?”
“You were in the building during the bombing?”
“I was.”
“We’re asking everyone who was here to do an interview.”
“Okay.”
“Can you do yours now?”
She had so many other things she needed to be doing, including getting back to figuring out next steps in the Bingham case, but she simply nodded and followed him to a conference room on the other side of the building from the pit.
“I’m Agent Michael Lawler.” He had the beefy build of an ex-football player or wrestler. His head was shaved bald, and he had a dark goatee.
Sam shook his outstretched hand. “Good to meet you.”
“You as well.” He pointed to a recording device. “Do you mind if I record this?”
“Nope.”
“Agent Michael Lawler with Lieutenant Sam Holland. You were in the Metropolitan Police Department headquarters at the time of the explosion correct?”
“I was.”
“Where were you in proximity to the lobby?”
“I was in the hallway that leads to the morgue, speaking with Vernon Rogers, the lead agent on my Secret Service detail. We were both knocked off our feet by the force of the blast. Vernon hit his head but is okay. I was uninjured, other than experiencing some ringing in my ears that lasted a few hours.”
