“Their kids are most likely the senator’s heirs. The O’Connor parents will be here at six to view the body. I’ll ask Graham O’Connor about his son’s will, and I’ve got Cruz digging into their finances. Then there’s Stenhouse, the O’Connors’s bitter political rival. He went home to Missouri for a long-planned fund-raiser today, but we’ve got an appointment with him in the morning.”

“What do you think of that angle?”

“Not much, which is why I didn’t stop him from going to Missouri. There’s no way he had a key to the place, and I’m convinced that whoever did this was someone John O’Connor was close to.”

“Girlfriends?”

“Billings is getting us a list of women he’s seen socially in the last six months and anyone who had a key. I’m also going to ask the senior Senator O’Connor if there might be keys still floating around from when he lived there.”

“The surveillance videos were no help?”

“We couldn’t I.D. anyone and neither could Cappuano. The video captures activity in the lobby and elevator areas but not at individual doors, so that didn’t help much. It was a cold night, and everyone was bundled up pretty tight with hats and scarves. We had trouble making out faces.”

Startled, the chief looked up at her.

“What?”

“People were bundled up…”

“What about it?”

“Is it possible Christina Billings had a coat she ditched after the killing?”

Intrigued, Sam puzzled that over. “That would explain why the suit wasn’t ruined.”

“Exactly. Might be time to get a warrant to search her car.”

“Jesus,” Sam said. “Why didn’t I think of this?”

“You would have. I think you’ve got a timing problem where she’s concerned, but it seems to me like you’ve got every base covered, Sergeant.”

“I’m trying.”

They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in,” the chief called.

The door opened and Freddie stepped into the room, looking nervous and uncertain.

“Detective Cruz.”

“Hello, sir,” Freddie stammered. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but the officers going through the documents taken from the senator’s apartment have uncovered a life insurance policy that I think you need to see, Sergeant Holland.” He handed it to her.

Sam scanned the document, her eyes widening at the two-million-dollar amount. An involuntary gasp escaped when she saw the beneficiary’s name: Nicholas Cappuano.

Twenty minutes later, Sam stormed past Nick’s startled staff straight into his office and slammed the door behind her.

He never looked up from what he was doing when he said, “Back so soon, Sergeant?”

“You son of a bitch!”

He finally glanced at her, but there was steel in his normally amiable eyes. “Care to explain yourself?”

“How about you explain yourself.” She slapped the insurance policy down in front of him.