Her eyes clouded as she tucked a strand of short hair behind her ear. “It’s only been a couple of weeks.”

“I know.” Nick’s heart went out to Christina, knowing she’d suffered from unrequited love for John O’Connor and had been heartbroken by his death as well as the murder investigation that briefly focused on her. Nick spotted John’s brother Terry in the crowd and realized he was heading for the door. “I’ll catch up to you,” he said to Christina as he set out to stop Terry.

“Hey, Terry!”

At forty-two, John’s older brother had settled into middle age after a string of problems added ten extra years to his once-handsome face. With dark hair gone to salt and pepper and dark, dead-looking eyes, he bore no resemblance to his late blond-haired, blue-eyed younger brother. Broken capillaries in Terry’s face were a testament to his long-running battle with alcohol.

After Terry was caught driving drunk three weeks before he’d been scheduled to announce his candidacy for his father’s Senate seat, Graham O’Connor had turned to his younger son John, who reluctantly buckled under enormous pressure to run for the seat that had been in their family for nearly forty years.

“Hey, Nick, er, I mean Senator,” Terry said.

Even more than five years later, Nick could still sense the bitterness in Terry. It had kept Terry on Sam’s short list of suspects in his brother’s murder, especially when Terry had been unable to produce the woman he’d had a drunken encounter with on the night John was killed. “May I have a minute?” Nick gestured to Christina’s office since it was closest.

“Sure,” Terry said with a shrug.

Nick ushered Terry into the room and closed the door behind them.

“What’s up?” Terry asked.

“How’ve you been?”

“Fine. You know, it’s tough.”

The brothers hadn’t been close, but Nick had no doubt Terry’s grief was real. “Yeah. I keep waiting to feel better, but I’m not quite there yet.”

“Mother says these things take time.”

They shared a smile over their mutual love for Laine O’Connor, a pillar of strength and gentle wisdom, even during the darkest days of her life.

“Listen, the reason I wanted to talk to you is I’m sure you heard I promoted Christina to chief of staff.”

“That’s a good move,” Terry said. “She’ll be great.”

“I agree. But her promotion leaves me in need of a deputy. I wondered if you might be interested.”

If Nick had said Martians were landing on the south lawn of the Capitol, Terry probably wouldn’t have looked more surprised. “What?” he whispered.

“Would you like to be my deputy chief of staff?”

Terry stared at him.

“Terry?”

“Why me?” he stammered. “Surely you can find someone who’s not dragging a shitload of baggage behind him.”

“I want you.”