He should retreat, call for backup, get the hell out of there. Though he knew all these things, he pressed on, deeper into the house, using his flashlight to guide him. In the sitting room to the right of the foyer, a lamp had been knocked off a side table. Avery walked around the fallen lamp and into the room the director used as a home office. He’d taken Avery and others inside to show off the office during the holiday party. Avery recalled being impressed by the lineup of photos showing Hamilton with the last four presidents, countless senators and numerous world leaders.

Following the beam of his flashlight into the office, the first thing he saw was a foot on the floor. The tingling in his spine was now a cascade of nonstop sensation, his better judgment telling him to get the fuck out of there right now. But he had to know. He had to see with his own eyes.

Using his elbow, he pushed the right side of the double French doors open to reveal Hamilton, lying in a pool of blood. “Fuck.” Avery knew it was him by the size of his frame and the width of his shoulders. His face had been beaten to a bloody pulp by a golf club that had been left on the floor next to the body. Under normal circumstances, he would’ve checked for a pulse, but there was no point. The director was dead and had been for some time.

Confusion and despair mixed with grief and anger that someone, anyone could’ve killed this giant of a man, a man Avery had looked up to for most of his adult life. He sent the beam around the room, making sure it was clear before he extinguished it and, knowing the situation was out of his hands now, called it in.

Chapter Twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE

SAM HEATED UP Shelby’s meatballs and boiled pasta for dinner. Nick and Scotty were much better, but still not that interested in food. They ate the soup Celia had sent over while she and Josh had the pasta and meatballs.

Josh pushed the food around on his plate, not showing much interest in the meal.

Nick glanced at Sam, his brow raised in question, as if to ask what the hell Josh was doing here.

Though she’d explained the need to keep Josh safe, bringing him here had been a questionable decision at best. But what was she supposed to do? Where else could she have taken him where there was no chance the most powerful law enforcement official in the nation would find him?

Her home was the safest place for him. No doubt about that, but it was a lot to ask of Nick—and Scotty, who tried to engage Josh in conversation.

“Do you like sports?” Scotty asked.

“Some.”

“Which ones?”

“Baseball, but my dad always said it was boring as shit. He hates it.”