State of Alert

(First Family Series, Book 8)

Chapter 1

Lieutenant Sam Holland was silent during the ride from Metro PD headquarters to New York Avenue, where the body of Navy Lieutenant Commander Juan Rodriguez had been found in a clothing donation bin. She and her team had been riding high off an arrest in the murder of U.S. Attorney Tom Forrester—after Sam took down murderer Harlan Peckham on a city street—when the word came that the missing naval officer’s body had been found.

Sam had experienced a crushing wave of grief on behalf of her husband, President Nick Cappuano, who’d worked closely with Juan at the White House.

Her partner, Detective Freddie Cruz, sat next to her in the back seat of her Secret Service SUV, while Sergeant Tommy “Gonzo” Gonzales was across from her. Apparently sensing her tension, her two closest colleagues and friends were quiet, too.

How would she ever tell Nick that Juan, the military attaché who’d tipped him off about a possible military overthrow of his administration, had been found murdered? Nick had been inconsolable, and had barely slept in days, since he’d learned Juan was missing. His stress was her stress, which meant neither of them had been getting much sleep while MPD officers and multiple federal agencies searched for the missing officer.

Nick had spoken to Juan’s mother and learned she’d raised him as a single mom. She owned a hair salon in Philadelphia that’d supported them. He’d also learned that Juan was her only child, which had only added to his despair.

Vernon, Sam’s lead Secret Service agent, brought the black SUV to a stop about a block from where Patrol officers had taped off the box where Juan’s body had been found by a volunteer from the agency that collected used clothing.

“Hang on for just a second.” Vernon and his partner for the day, Agent Quigley, got out of the SUV to confer with other agents who’d arrived ahead of them.

This was the part of having a detail that drove her crazy. She was a highly trained police officer capable of protecting herself, but she had to wait for the Secret Service to ensure the scene was safe for her to do her job.

“You guys go ahead and get started,” she said to Freddie and Gonzo. “I’ll be right there. I hope.”

Her colleagues got out of the SUV and closed the doors behind them.

Sam watched them go as she acknowledged that one of them would have to take the lead on this case since she’d known Juan personally. As one of the keepers of the “nuclear football” briefcase that went everywhere the president did, Juan had been a frequent presence in their lives over the last five months since President Nelson died suddenly, giving Nick a promotion neither he nor Sam had wanted. Him being the vice president had been more than enough for them.

Everything had changed since they got the phone call about Nelson’s untimely death.

Well, a few things had stayed the same, such as the tight bond she and Nick shared as a couple, and the ones they had with their kids, extended family and close friends. Those ties sustained them now that they were under the most intense scrutiny of anyone in the world, with a level of attention on their every move that could make them insane if they allowed it to.

Sam refused to let that happen, which was much harder than it might seem with new piles of shit hitting the fan constantly.

In the hours since they’d closed the investigation into the murder of U.S. Attorney Tom Forrester and the shooting of FBI Special Agent-in-Charge Avery Hill, which had been tied to a single shooter, Sam had been oddly numb, especially as the search for Juan had intensified. She told herself the feeling was normal after having lost a close colleague in Tom and nearly losing another close colleague—and friend—in Avery. Thankfully, he would make a full recovery.

Eventually.

After nearly sixteen years on the job, she knew by now what was part of the drill and what wasn’t. Total numbness wasn’t normal, no matter how much she wished to believe otherwise. At some point, she’d have to do something about that, but with a new murder to deal with, now was not that time.

Vernon opened her door. “All clear.”

“Thanks.”

Sam got out of the car and walked over to join Freddie and Gonzo, who were leaning into the back side of the clothing donation bin. She didn’t want to look in there and confirm what she already knew, that Juan was dead, that someone had killed him, possibly because he’d warned Nick about the Joint Chiefs’ nefarious plan. The thought of another case that required wading through hip-deep bureaucracy exhausted her. She’d just done ten rounds with her husband’s Attorney General and managed to eke out a victory of sorts after Nick fired Reginald Cox for stonewalling Sam and her team, and for being deeply in debt from gambling. They’d uncovered the gambling in the course of their investigation.

Her colleagues stepped aside to allow her close enough to the bin to see inside.

“Hold your breath,” Freddie said.

Sam was thankful for the warning as she bent at the waist for a closer look. The sight of Juan’s khaki uniform with the ribbons on his chest hit her like a punch to the heart.

This would devastate Nick, who’d become fond of the eager young officer. She could see only the left side of his face, enough to confirm his identity.

“I need to go home.” She couldn’t let Nick hear this news from anyone else. “Can you guys take the lead and keep me in the loop?”

“Absolutely,” Gonzo said. “We’re on it.”

“I’m really sorry about this, Sam,” her kindhearted partner said.

Sam gave Freddie’s arm a squeeze. “Thanks. Me, too. Keep a tight lid until I have a chance to tell Nick and he can notify Juan’s mother.”

“Will do,” Gonzo said.

As she walked back to the Secret Service SUV, the medical examiner’s vehicle was arriving. She stopped to talk to Dr. Lindsey McNamara and was relieved to see that some of the pink had returned to Lindsey’s cheeks after a recent illness had left her pale and listless.

“What’ve we got?” Lindsey asked as she pulled on latex gloves.

“Navy Lieutenant Commander Juan Rodriguez, military attaché to the president.”

“Oh no. Sam… Is he the one…”

“Who told Nick that the Joint Chiefs wanted a regime change? Yep.”

“Shit.”

“Only child of a single mom.”

Lindsey’s deep sigh said it all.

“I’m going home to talk to Nick. I’ll catch up shortly.”

“Take your time. We’ve got this.”

“Thanks, Linds. Keep it confidential for now.”

“No one will hear about it from us.”

“Appreciate it.”

Vernon held the SUV door for Sam and then closed it when she was inside the vehicle.

“Where to?” he asked when he was back in the driver’s seat.

“Home, please.”

He gave her a curious look in the rearview mirror, but didn’t ask any questions.

It was highly unusual for her to return to the White House in the middle of a shift, but there was nothing usual about finding the body of one of her husband’s colleagues in a clothing donation bin on New York Avenue.

Enclosed in the back seat of the SUV, Sam wanted to punch something—or someone. She’d give anything to not have to tell her beloved husband this dreadful news, even if he’d been halfway expecting it for days now. His tenure as president had been far more traumatic than either of them could’ve anticipated when he took the oath of office on Thanksgiving.

Since then, they’d dealt with two mass shootings, the sudden death of her brother-in-law, the thwarted military coup, claims of illegitimacy because Nick had never been elected vice president or president and endless demands on their time, energy and emotions. That, and the relentless pace of a national campaign, was exactly why he’d announced his decision not to run for president when his tenure as vice president ended. He’d waited all his life for the family they now had, and he didn’t want to be away from them for months on end campaigning for a job he didn’t want.

Then Nelson had dropped dead, rendering that decision a moot point—and gave Nick’s detractors even more to talk about by noting the country was “stuck with” a president who didn’t even want the job. That wasn’t what he’d said when he announced his decision to sit out the next election cycle, but they didn’t care about the truth.

It’d been nonstop bullshit for five straight months.

And now this.

Her heart ached for him.

Juan had risked everything to inform Nick about the Joint Chiefs’ rumored plan to overthrow the “illegitimate” president. How had Juan found out about what they were up to? Sam never had heard the answer to that question and would really like to know.

The Naval Criminal Investigative Service would be involved in this case, which would complicate things. Battling over jurisdiction was one of her least favorite parts of the job. The murder had occurred in DC, thus the case belonged to the Metro PD, but they’d be forced to play nice with NCIS.

Maybe it would work out in their favor if NCIS helped them quickly solve the case rather than engaging in a turf war that would detract from their common goal of figuring out who’d killed Juan.

Sam’s anxiety spiked as they drove through the gates to the White House fifteen minutes later. She had to go in there and tell Nick the news he’d been dreading, news he would then have to share with Juan’s devoted mother.

Vernon opened the car door.

Sam stared at the ground, summoning the will to move forward, to do what needed to be done.

“Sam?”

She looked up at him.

“Are you all right?”

“Nope. Not at all. The body in that bin was Juan Rodriguez.”

“Oh no.”

“And now I have to tell Nick that the man who took such a huge risk to protect him is dead, possibly because he took that risk.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Me, too, Vernon. Me, too.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No, but thanks for asking. I appreciate it.”

She tried to find the fortitude she would need to do what had to be done, the same way she did in every new homicide investigation, but this was different. This one would hurt Nick, and that would hurt her, too. It would be better coming from her, she thought, as if anything could make this news more palatable for him. Nothing could.

After everything he’d endured before they were together, Sam wished she could wrap him in her love and protect him from ever being hurt again. She had no doubt he’d do the same for her if he could. But they were both painfully aware that life didn’t work that way. All they could do was love each other through the crisis of the moment, and that was exactly what she would do.

Harold, one of the White House ushers, stood ready to greet her at the door.

“Afternoon, Mrs. Cappuano. Are you home for the day?”

She wondered what the staff thought of a wife, mother and first lady who spent most of a Sunday at work. “Unfortunately, only for a few minutes, Harold. I’ll hang on to my coat.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Is the president in the residence?”

“No, ma’am, he’s in the Oval.”

“Thank you, Harold.”

“My pleasure, ma’am.”

Sam made her way to the West Wing, nodding to the few people she passed on the way. They all knew her. She didn’t recognize any of them, which wasn’t unusual. Even on a Sunday, scores of people worked in the people’s house every day. She’d made a point of calling every member of the White House staff and as many of Nick’s team as she could by name, whenever possible. Occasionally, a new person would sneak by her, but she tried her best to make them all feel valued.

The residence staff was the best part of living in the White House. They went above and beyond to make the family comfortable in their home away from home.

Outside the Oval Office, she stopped to speak with Julie, the admin who guarded the gates. Sam was surprised to see her there on a Sunday and wondered if Nick’s team ever took a full day off. “May I please have a moment with him?”

“He’s in a meeting with the cabinet. Shall I arrange for him to leave the meeting?”

Sam thought about what Nick would want and made the decision based on how tortured he’d been waiting for news since Juan had disappeared. “Yes, please.”

“Yes, ma’am. If you’d like to wait inside the Oval, I’ll send him in.”

Sam was thirty-six years old and hated being called ma’am, but that was something she was learning to tolerate. Everyone called the first lady ma’am. The honorific was baked into the title, and it was pointless to expect people to call her anything else. Thankfully, she’d persuaded Vernon and his regular partner, Jimmy, to call her Sam when they were alone.

“Thank you, Julie.”

Sam opened the door to the Oval Office and stepped into her husband’s inner sanctum, the most famous office on earth, and took a seat on one of the sofas, hoping she’d done the right thing by interrupting the cabinet meeting.

She waited five minutes before he came in, stopping short at the sight of her, probably taking one look at her and figuring out why she’d called him out of the meeting. In deference to the weekend, he wore a navy V-neck sweater over a light blue dress shirt and gray dress pants.

Sam stood, went to him and put her hands on his chest as she gazed up at his handsome face and the gorgeous hazel eyes that looked at her with apprehension. “We found Juan.”

His entire body tensed.

She didn’t have to say anything else for him to know that since she was there in person, Juan hadn’t been found alive.

“How?”

“I’m not sure yet. He was found in a clothing donation bin on New York Avenue.” His sharp intake of oxygen had her holding on tighter to him, putting her arms around his waist. “I’m so, so sorry, Nick.”

He dropped his head to her shoulder as he exhaled a deep, pained breath. “Who knows?”

She reached up to run her fingers through his dark, wavy hair, wishing there was more she could do to provide comfort. “Only us and you so far.”

“I have to call his mother. I promised to keep her informed.”

“I’ll stay with you while you do that. I’ll stay for as long as you need me.”

“You can’t stay as long as I’ll need you.”

“Yes, I can.”

“Will you guys lead the investigation?”

“We have jurisdiction since he was found in the District. NCIS will want in, but they can be helpful in a situation like this.”

“I’ll make sure they’re nothing but helpful.”

She placed her hand on his face, compelling him to look at her. As she gazed into his beautiful eyes, she said, “Please tell me you know this isn’t your fault.”

“I didn’t kill Juan, and I didn’t shoot the service members at Fort Liberty. But like that, this happened because I became president, and somehow… Somehow, I have to find a way to live with that.”