“Yes, please. I haven’t had a vacation in so long that I forget when the last one was.”

“Let’s get something booked ASAP. I’ll look into it.” He released her hair and let it flow through his fingers as she reached for his hand and led him to the kitchen. “Any preference on where we go?”

“Hot sand. Umbrella drinks. Very clear blue water.”

“Got it,” he said, smiling at her quick reply. He expected nothing less from her. “I like the way you think.”

“Bagel?” she asked, holding up the bag from their trip to the market the night before.

“Sure. Thanks.” While he waited on the toaster, he scanned the headlines in the Washington Post, Washington Star, the Wall Street Journal and the New York Times. He opened the Star to peruse the political news, and an item on page two caught his attention: Fire in Thailand Linked to U.S. Company.

He skimmed the story about the factory fire that killed more than three hundred young women over the summer. An investigation had uncovered a connection between the factory and U.S. textile giant Lexicore.

Terry gasped in shock as the name Lexicore jumped out at him. “Oh no, no, no,” he whispered. “Holy shit.”

Carrying two plates with bagels slathered in cream cheese, Lindsey came over to where he was standing at the counter. “Terry? What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Remember the fire in Thailand last summer when all those girls were killed?”

She nodded. “Didn’t they have the doors barred from the outside or something?”

“Yes.”

“So horrible. What about it?”

“The factory is owned by Lexicore.”

“As in Lexicore the big U.S. company?”

“One and the same. My dad is close to the company’s president, and he’s a huge stockholder. When my brother died, he left a two-million-dollar life insurance policy to Nick, and my dad invested most of it for him—some of it in Lexicore.”

“Oh no,” Lindsey said, properly stricken. “Oh God.”

“Oh yes, and the press has made the connection to Lexicore this close to the election.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and found his dad’s number on his list of favorites.

“Good morning, son,” Graham said. “This is a nice surprise.”

“Dad, we’ve got a huge problem.”

Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Sam arrived at HQ fifteen minutes before the meeting she’d called, raring to dig into the investigation after a decent night of sleep. Despite the interruptions, she felt rested and recharged and determined to make serious headway.

Her first stop was in the pit to talk to third-shift detectives Carlucci and Dominguez. “What’ve we got, ladies?”

“Good morning, Lieutenant,” Carlucci said, choking back a yawn. “Autopsy report and photos from Dr. McNamara that came in last night. Vic died of a single stab wound to the chest that punctured his aorta. She puts the time of death between two and four yesterday morning.”