“Yes, and forced is the right word. John wanted nothing to do with running for the Senate. In fact, I remember him grousing about how ‘lucky’ he was that he’d just turned thirty, which is the minimum age to run for the Senate. He was sitting atop a nice little technology firm that made a chip for one of the DoD’s weapons systems. He and his partner were very successful.”

“What happened to the company when John ran for Senate?”

“His partner bought him out and later sold the company.”

“Would he have any reason to want John dead?”

“Hardly. He made hundreds of millions when he sold the company. The last I knew, he was living large in the Caribbean.”

“What about Terry? Is he still harboring resentment that his younger brother got the life he was supposed to have?”

“Maybe, but Terry wouldn’t have the stones to kill him. At the end of the day, Terry’s a wimp.”

Regardless of that, Sam made a note to look more closely at Terry O’Connor.

“Sergeant?” The lieutenant in charge of the crime scene unit approached them. “We’re just about done here. We didn’t find any sign of forced entry at either door or any of the ground-floor windows.”

“Prints?”

“Just one set.” He glanced at Nick. “We assume they’re yours, but we’ll have to confirm that.”

Nick swore softly under his breath.

“Thanks, Lieutenant.” Sam handed the other officer her card. “I’ll write up what I have if you’ll shoot me your report as a courtesy. There may be a connection to Senator O’Connor’s murder.”

“Of course.”

After a perfunctory clean up of the dust left over from the fingerprint powder, the other cops left a short time later.

“Do you want some help cleaning up?” she asked Nick when they were alone.

“That’s all right. I can do it.”

He stood and extended a hand to help her up.

Sam took his hand, but when she tried to let go, he tightened his grip. Startled, she looked up at him.

“I’m sorry I dragged you over here for nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing—” Her words got stuck in her throat when he ran a finger over her cheek. His touch was so light she would have missed it if she hadn’t been staring at him.

“You’re tired.”

She shrugged, her heart slamming around in her chest. “I haven’t been sleeping too well lately.”

“I read all the coverage of what happened. It wasn’t your fault, Sam.”

“Tell that to Quentin Johnson. It wasn’t his fault, either.”

“His father should’ve put his son’s safety ahead of saving his crack stash.”

“I was counting on the fact that he would. I should’ve known better. How someone could put their child in that kind of danger… I’ll just never understand it.”