Susan Secret Service, who had just poured herself a mug of coffee, set her mug down and found her purse on one of the chairs. She dug her hand around, then fished out a bottle of eye drops. She handed them to Donald and said, “These should help.”

“Oh, thank the Lord,” he said, then dropped multiple drops into each eye. “Ahhhh, that feels better.”

The six of them — Cooper was absent — made small talk and sipped coffee. Ingrid was the first to make her way over to the pizza boxes, find a cold slice, and dig in.

Everyone else soon followed.

“Takes me back to college,” quipped Natalie Forensics.

Ingrid nodded. “Cold pizza cram session.”

“More like cold pizza hangover cure,” quipped Tasha.

Everyone laughed.

This led to a quick discussion on where everyone attended college.

Natalie went to Michigan.

Susan went to Georgetown.

Tasha, Florida State.

Ingrid went to Maryland.

Welds went to Penn State on a football scholarship.

And Donald attended Virginia Commonwealth.

“How about Cooper?” asked Susan. “Anyone know where he went?”

“Temple,” Cooper boomed, walking into the room. It was obvious that unlike the rest of them, he hadn’t slept a wink, though you would never have guessed it by looking at him. His hair was perfectly parted, his eyes clear, his voice strong. “I played three seasons for Cheney.”

“No kidding,” Welds said, looking impressed.

Cooper grabbed a slice of pizza, told a quick story of missing a crucial free throw that would have won them the Big East Championship, then immediately switched gears. He said, “Jessica was able to get some extra toiletries from a nearby hotel and they’re in the bathrooms. Wash up and be back here in five minutes.”

They broke huddle.

Ingrid brushed her teeth with a small brush and small tube of toothpaste, splashed water on her face, then used the restroom.

She checked the time on the phone.

Five minutes had already passed.

She thought about Henry.

This was his life.

Again, she cursed herself for missing his call.

::::

Cooper had spent the past few hours in the White House Situation Room. He briefed them on all he’d learned.

Reports had come back from FBI agents all over the US who were investigating the more than sixty thousand leads that had come in, most having to do with the Middle Eastern family down the block. So far, nothing had panned out.

Ingrid felt a twinge of guilt.

All those poor innocent Arabs profiled, detained and questioned just because of a couple freak jihadists. And all because of the descriptions she’d given.

The NSA had yet to pick up any definitive terrorist chatter in their logs that may have hinted at the attack, nor had they found any leads from the more than 250,000 surveillance cameras they were hacked into.

A $5,000,000 reward was being offered for any information that led to the location of the terrorists.