Randall handed a cup to each of them. Harry took an obligatory sip. It was above par, and it burned a welcome trail into his chest. It was the first time he had not felt numb this morning.

Mel cradled the white porcelain mug in both hands. He seemed bemused by his surroundings. His gaze darted from the mahogany-veneered boardroom table, the eight black swivel chairs that had been precisely positioned around the table’s perimeter, and came to rest on the massive flat screen television that hung from the wall opposite them.

In that moment, Harry realized how small his father’s world had become.

And how oblivious Harry had been to that fact.

Now, his life was inextricably connected to his father’s demons.

As if he didn’t have enough of his own.

He put down his coffee. It had left a burning trail from his esophagus to his gut.

“Let’s talk about what happened last night,” Randall said. “Mr. Owen, can you walk me through the events?”

Neither of them wanted to revisit last night. And today, they would be forced to remember it again and again.

The moment of Salma’s death.

The moment of Harry’s misjudgment.

Both were life-altering events. Both would haunt Harry for the rest of his life. But he’d be damned if he paid a political price for the criminal acts of some scum. His father had been a victim twenty-five years ago. Harry saw what it had done to his mental state. And the terrible price he had paid with the loss of the use of his legs. It had changed him, the anger slowly eating through the love of his family, more destructive than the bullet itself.

He wouldn’t let that happen to him. That’s why he had gone into politics, what fuelled him every morning when he stepped into the House. No petty burglars were going to stand in his way.

Yes, he shot the girl.

But she deserved every torn tissue, every bleeding vessel, every nerve screaming in pain.

“Go ahead and tell him, Dad,” Harry said, his voice steady. “You did nothing wrong.”

Chapter 15

Chapter 15

9:14 a.m.

The war room buzzed with energy. Cooper sat in the seat next to Lamond. God, this felt good. He absorbed the electricity in the air, felt it recharge his flagging brain. This was what he wanted.

To feel alive again.

“Get much sleep?” Lamond asked. They had left the Owen house at about 5:00 a.m. “I managed about two hours.” He took a long pull from his coffee.

Cooper shook his head. “I didn’t go home. Didn’t want to wake the wife.” He ignored Lamond’s sideways glance and shrugged. “And I wanted to get those interviews prepped.”

Riley hurried in and slid into the seat next to Brown.

She shot Cooper a look.

Had he been staring? He gulped his coffee.