“Good of him to tip us off.” She knew she had to ask, that this would be the first of many times she’d have to revisit the most painful moment of her life, a moment she thought she’d left behind a long time ago. “Are you disgusted with me?”

His eyes darted from the road to her and back to the road. “Of course not.”

“Not even a little?”

His jaw tightened with tension. “You must’ve had no choice.”

“I really didn’t. But I know your faith runs deep. You should feel free to speak your mind, Freddie.”

“I already have.”

The tone of his voice indicated the conversation was over, that there would be nothing more said about it. Ever. He no doubt had strong feelings about the issue, but apparently he had strong feelings about her, too.

“You know what’s disgusting?” she asked, looking to lighten things up.

“What’s that?”

She kicked at the candy wrappers, chip bags and soda cans on the floor of his car. “Your disgusting eating habits.”

“I’m a growing boy,” he said with that charming smile of his. “I need my sugar.”

“It’s gross.”

“You’re just jealous because you wish you had my metabolism.”

“I continue to hope I’m around to see your crappy diet catch up to you.” The old car hit a huge pothole, and Sam gasped. “Dude. Watch the bumps.”

“Um, do you think maybe you could tell me where we’re going?”

“Just drive. Let me think. Where are you Preston? Where’s the last place you think we’d look for you?” She let the thought run around in her mind for several minutes. “Call Gonzo. I want the log from Devon’s house.”

Dialing while driving, Freddie passed along the request.

Keeping her eyes closed, Sam said, “Ask him if Preston Sinclair came to the house after the bodies were found.”

A minute later, Freddie confirmed that Preston had, in fact, come there looking for his son while crime scene processed the house. According to Gonzo’s report, Preston acted suitably distraught and left after packing a bag for his son. He said he was going straight to the hospital. While they were on the phone, Gonzo also confirmed the same gun had been used in both Sinclair shootings.

The buzz of all the pieces falling into place rippled through Sam’s battered body. “I knew it! Dupont Circle. Stat.”

“There might be bumps.”

“I’ll risk it.”

Ripped to shreds by what he’d just endured with the media, Nick returned to Sam’s room to find it empty. “What the hell?”

Storming down the hall to the nurse’s station, he inquired about her.

“She was in her room, Senator. I was just in there.”