SAM WENT THROUGH the kitchen into her father’s room in what used to be the dining room. Skip was in his recliner with the Redskins game on TV. It had been a while since Sam had seen him anywhere other than in his wheelchair or bed, but since the surgery to remove the bullet in his spine, he’d been spending more time in the specially outfitted recliner, which was a sign of progress, albeit limited progress.

“Hey there,” she said.

His face lit up with pleasure at the sight of her. “Hey, baby girl. How’s it going over in the infirmary?”

“Much better today.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Sam bent to kiss his forehead. “How’s the game?” she asked, though she already knew the Skins were losing.

“Different week, same story. What’re you up to?”

She sat in the other recliner. “So the situation with Hamilton’s son has gotten complicated.”

“How so?”

“Hamilton started calling Josh every fifteen minutes this morning, which is apparently more than he’s called his son in the last five years combined. That freaked out Josh, and he bolted from protective custody. We’re looking for him.”

“I was going to call you because I just saw an alert on TV that the director has issued a statement saying his son is mentally ill and off his medication, and the family is looking for him.”

Sam felt light-headed all of a sudden. “He said what? Josh is not mentally ill. He’s terrified his father is going to find him and kill him.”

“He should be,” Malone said as he came into the room looking flustered. “There’s a world of difference between Hamilton’s public image and his true self. The guy’s a ruthlessly ambitious son of a bitch, and I wouldn’t put it past him to kill his own son if it suited his agenda.”

Shocked by Malone’s unusually forceful statement, she said, “Is he capable of kidnapping someone else’s child and raising him as his own?”

“I spent a month shadowing him, and I wouldn’t put anything past that guy.”

“How is it possible that I’ve never heard anything but praise and adulation where he’s concerned?” Sam asked.

“Because that’s what he wants you to hear. Troy Hamilton’s public image is a carefully crafted work of fiction.”

“Jake’s right,” Skip said. “I remember when you shadowed him and came back with stories about the only thing bigger than his arrogance was his ego.”

“Exactly.”

“We need to rip his life apart,” Sam said. “Dig into his past. I want to know where he was thirty years ago this week when Taylor went missing.”

Malone frowned at her. “I hate to remind you that you’re suspended—”