“Yes.” She came over to Sam and gripped her arm frantically. “Tell me you found him. Please tell me.”

Sam wished in that moment to be anywhere else in the world. “Come have a seat.”

“No, I don’t want to sit. I want to know what’s going on.”

A little dark-haired boy came toddling into the room, dragging a blanket behind him. Judging by his size, Sam gauged him to be Miguel, the older of their two sons. “Mama... ¿Qué te pasa? ¿Por qué estás triste? ¿Dónde está papá?”

His mother picked him up, whispered to him and handed him over to the maid.

Sam glanced at Freddie and saw the same unbearable sadness etched into his expression that she was feeling. She’d learned over the years to say it quickly, to put it out there and get it over with. But this time the words got stuck on the lump in her throat.

Sensing her distress, Freddie stepped forward. “Señora Vasquez, lo siento pero tengo que decirle que su marido fue encontrado asesinado.”

Carmen screamed and clawed at Freddie’s chest. “Por favor dime que no es verdad. No, no, no.”

“Lo siento. Ojalà pudiera.”

Thankfully, Cruz was standing close enough to catch Carmen when she fainted. He eased her onto a sofa.

“Go find the maid,” Sam said to the security guy, who watched the scene unfold with big eyes and shock etched into his expression. He didn’t need to speak Spanish to understand what’d just happened. “Get a cold cloth and some water. Hurry.”

By the time Carmen regained consciousness a minute later, he had returned with the items Sam requested.

Freddie ran the cloth over Carmen’s tearstained face. “Toma una respiración profunda.”

“Por favor, dime que no se verdad susurró.” Her voice was little more than a whisper.

“Lo siento.”

“No,” Carmen said as she broke down again. “Por favor, no.” She glanced at Sam and thankfully switched to English. “He can’t be dead. Not my Willie. It wasn’t his fault. He made a mistake. People make mistakes all the time. How could they kill him over it?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said, “but I promise we’ll do all we can to find out what happened.” She stopped short of assuring the other woman that she’d definitely get the murderer. For the first time in her illustrious career, she’d come across a case in which tens of thousands of people—perhaps even hundreds of thousands—had a motive for murder.

Carmen fixed her gaze on Sam. “I know you. Have we met?”

Sam shook her head. “I’m married to Senator Cappuano from Virginia. That’s probably how you know me.”

“Yes, we saw you at the convention. Willie admired your husband.”

“My son admired your husband. He was very kind to him at a camp this past summer.”