Hill’s use of the word “painful” left her feeling uneasy as they stepped into the office suite that housed the Feds’ top management. As she followed Hill to a hallway lined with team memorabilia that ended with yet another receptionist, Sam dashed off a text to Malone, letting him know they’d cracked the Feds’ inner sanctum.

This receptionist was male, mid-twenties and looked like he’d been crying. “Agent Hill,” he said. “It’s so nice to see a friendly face on a rather glum day around here. We were so close. So damned close.”

Little did he know, Sam thought, that the team was about to have much bigger problems to contend with than a lost ball game.

“A tough loss for sure. Could I talk to Ray? I won’t take much of his time.”

“Yes, of course. I told him you were on your way up.” He glanced at Sam and then back at Hill.

“This is Detective Lieutenant Holland from the Metro PD.”

“The senator’s wife.”

Whereas she’d revealed her marital status willingly to Carmen Vasquez, here it bugged her. She loved being Nick’s wife, but on the job she preferred being known for her own accomplishments rather than who she’d married. “Am I? I had no idea.”

The young man frowned at her. “Go on in. He’s expecting you.”

On the way past, Avery patted the younger man on the shoulder. “There’s always next year.”

“That’s what we’ve been telling ourselves all morning.”

In one of the biggest offices Sam had ever seen, Ray Jestings was the picture of devastation. He sat in a gigantic leather executive chair behind his desk, staring out at the ballpark to his right. Beyond the park, Ray’s view of the city extended past the Capitol and into Maryland.

“Hey, Ray.”

“Avery.” Jestings got up and came around the desk to hug his old friend. He was tall and lean with dark hair beginning to turn gray and looked like he hadn’t slept yet either. “What brings you here?”

“This is Lieutenant Holland from the Metro PD. I’m afraid we’ve come with some bad news.”

“I don’t know if I can take any more bad news.” He spoke in the same honeyed South Carolinian accent as Avery’s.

“This is a lot worse than a lost ball game,” Sam said, earning a frown from Hill. Maybe she was getting a tad cranky after the night without sleep.

“What’s going on, Avery?” Ray asked, his gaze bouncing between Sam and Hill.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but Willie Vasquez was found murdered this morning,” Hill said.

Ray stared at them, unseeing, as if trying to process what Hill had said.

“Ray? Why don’t you sit down?” Hill put his arm around the other man and led him to the arrangement of chairs that overlooked the ballpark below.