Sam closed her eyes, seeking mercy from the pain. “Ask for Holly,” she rasped. “For some unknown reason, she thinks you’re adorable. Charm her, but make it snappy.” She glanced at the TV and saw Nick stepping away from the podium. “We’re running out of time.”

With a wary glance at her, Freddie put the bag of clothes on the bed and left the room.

Swallowing the sickening waves of nausea, she got dressed in a sweat suit and sneakers. Thankfully, Celia had also brought a warm parka.

Freddie returned a few minutes later with a satisfied smirk on his face. A plastic bag containing her gun, badge, cuffs and wallet landed on the bed next to her.

Sam jammed the gun into the back of her sweats, put the other items in her coat pockets and stood up. Just as quickly, she sat back down when her head exploded in protest.

“Sam—”

“Shut up,” she growled. With one hand on the bed, she pushed herself back up and took a second to contend with the now-predictable burst of pain. Reaching up, she snatched the knitted skullcap off his head and dragged it over her injured dome, tucking her long hair inside. “Let’s go.”

“That’s okay, I wasn’t using that.”

“I need it more than you do.”

“Nick’s gonna kill me for this,” Freddie muttered.

“No, he’s gonna kill me. So let’s make it worth it.”

Moving down the hallway, dodging nurses, Sam discovered her body hurt everywhere. The diagonal seatbelt bruise, stretching from shoulder to hip, protested every movement. Apparently, she’d also managed to hurt her knee, but no one had noticed that thanks to the head injury.

At the elevator bank, she pressed the up arrow.

“Where’re we going?” Freddie asked, puzzled.

“To see Diandra. Did you get anything on the rope that was used to bind Julian?”

“Diandra purchased a spool of rope from the Home Depot in Gaithersburg two weeks before Julian was murdered. Gonzo is getting a warrant to search the house for the rest of it.”

Sam wished she had the strength to dance a jig. “Excellent! I knew it. What else have you heard today?”

“Gonzo talked to Austin. Devon is still critical. Could go either way. Austin confirmed that he told his father about your conversation with Devon.”

“Bingo. I knew it. Preston heard Devon was gay, and lost it. We have to find him. He’s the key to this whole thing.”

They rode the elevator to the ICU where Sam flashed her badge and asked for Diandra. “It’s critical we speak to her,” she told the nurse on duty. They were granted entry to Devon’s room where Diandra sat hunched over her son’s bed.

“Mrs. Sinclair,” Sam said from the doorway.