Sam’s phone rang and she glanced at the caller ID, startling when she saw Josh’s name pop up. “It’s him,” she said, as she flipped open the phone to take the call. “Holland.”

“It’s me,” he said in a small voice. “Josh.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m close to your house.”

Sam began walking toward the front door, grabbing her coat off the chair in the living room before she went outside. “Come toward the Secret Service checkpoint, and I’ll meet you. We’ll bring you to my house where no one can touch you. I’ll personally guarantee your safety.”

If the Secret Service hadn’t turned her home into a fortress, she’d never consider bringing him there. But it was the second most secure home in the District and thus the best place for him right now.

After a long pause, she said, “Josh? Are you coming?”

“Yeah, I’ll come.”

“Good.” She expelled a deep sigh of relief. “You’ll be surrounded by Secret Service. No one will touch you.” Sam was kicking herself for taking him out of her house to begin with. She should’ve let him stay there, even with the flu running rampant. Oh well, hindsight was always twenty-twenty. “Keep talking to me. Where are you now?”

“Seventh.”

“Two more blocks.” She was waved through the checkpoint and walked toward Seventh Street, where she could see him in the distance. Jogging as she held the phone to her ear, she covered a block in a matter of seconds. When she reached his side, she slapped her phone closed and jammed it into her coat pocket. “Come on.” As she hooked her arm through his, she noticed his eyes were red and raw, as if he’d been crying. His clothes were dirty and disheveled, and one of the sleeves on his coat was torn.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” he said in a despondent tone. “He’s coming for me. I know he is.”

“You did the right thing calling me. I’ll keep you safe.”

“You have to tell the Secret Service not to let him in. If he finds out I’m with you, he’ll come here, and he’ll strong-arm them into letting him in.”

“They don’t let anyone in unless we ask them to, and we won’t let him in. I promise.”

At the checkpoint, Sam vouched for Josh since he didn’t have his ID on him. She noted the agent’s recognition of his name. The agent had probably seen the APB.

“Is everything all right, Mrs. Cappuano?” the agent asked warily.

“Everything is fine. I’d like some additional security posted at both ends of Ninth Street.”

“Any particular reason?”

“I want to make sure my guest feels as safe as possible.”

“Yes, ma’am. We’ll take care of it.”