Relieved to know the boy wasn’t in the house, Freddie pressed on. “In the course of our investigation, we’ve uncovered a series of regular monthly payments Senator O’Connor made to you for the last twenty years.” Even though he knew the facts by heart, Freddie consulted his notebook. “Three thousand dollars, paid by check, on the first of every month.”

Her hand trembled ever so slightly as she reached for the gold locket she wore on a chain around her neck. “So?”

“Can you tell me why he gave you the money?”

“It was a gift.”

“That’s a mighty big gift—thirty-six thousand dollars a year, totaling more than seven hundred thousand over twenty years.”

“He was a generous man.”

“Ms. Donaldson, I realize this is a very difficult time for you, but if you were his friend—”

“I was his best friend,” she cried, her hand curling into a fist over her heart. “He was mine.”

“If that’s the case, I’m sure you want us to find the person who killed him.”

“Of course I do. I just don’t see what you need from me.”

“I need you to confirm that your son Thomas is John O’Connor’s son.”

“Do you, Detective?” she asked softly. “Do you really need me to confirm it?”

Her easy capitulation flustered Freddie. He’d expected to have to work for it. “I’d appreciate if you could tell me about your relationship with the senator, from the day you met him through to his death.”

She paused for a long moment, as if she were making a decision, and then began to talk so softly that Freddie had to strain to hear. “My family moved to Leesburg the summer before eighth grade. I met him on the first day of school. He was nice to me when no one else gave me the time of day, but that was John. It was just like him to make the new girl feel welcome.” Lost in her memories, she seemed to have forgotten Freddie was there.

He took notes, knowing Sam would expect every detail.

“We became friends—unlikely friends.”

“Why unlikely?”

“His father was a United States senator, a multi-millionaire businessman. Mine worked at the post office. We weren’t exactly from the same universe, but John was the least status-conscious person I ever knew. He couldn’t have cared less about his father’s position, which of course drove his father crazy.

“Over time, our friendship grew and blossomed into love. His parents never liked me, never welcomed me into their home or their family. That made John sad, but it didn’t keep us apart. He was the love of my life, Detective, and I was the love of his. We knew it at fifteen. Can you imagine?”

“No, ma’am.” He couldn’t imagine it at twenty-nine. “I can’t.”