She was just stepping out the front door when a dark blue Taurus pulled up in front of the house. The doors of the sedan opened, and a man and a woman dressed in business suits got out. They had “government agents” written all over them, and she felt the blood rush from her head.

Not yet! She had a house and a dog. She had two little girls and a man with whom she’d fallen in love! Just a little longer.

She wanted to run back inside and lock the door, but she pulled Button closer and forced herself to the edge of the front porch.

Both of them studied her carefully as they came up the sidewalk. “I’m Agent DeLucca with the FBI,” the woman said. “This is Agent Williams, Secret Service.” They took in her stomach, and she silently blessed Mat for forcing her to wear the padding.

She kept her overly made-up face carefully blank. “Yes?”

“You’re Mrs. Case.” Williams made it a statement instead of a question, but she thought she detected a thread of doubt in his eyes.

“Mrs. Case? You mean the First Lady?” She attempted Lucy’s you’re-a-moron look. “Yeah, right. That’s me.”

“Could we see some identification, ma’am?” the female agent asked.

“You mean like a driver’s license?” Her heart was pounding so hard she was afraid they’d hear it.

“That would be fine.”

“I don’t have one. Someone stole my purse a couple of days ago when I was at a Laundromat.” She swallowed. “Is that what this is about? Did you find my purse?”

She saw their hesitation. They thought they had her, but they weren’t absolutely certain. A spark of hope flared inside her. If she’d been positively identified, there’d be a battalion of agents here, not just these two.

“We’d like to talk with you privately, ma’am. Could we go inside?”

Once she let them in the house, they could interrogate her for hours. “I’d rather talk here.”

Mat came roaring up like the cavalry. His T-shirt clung to his chest and one of his sweat socks had collapsed near his ankle. “What’s going on?”

“I—I think they found my purse,” she managed.

Mat didn’t miss a beat. He immediately turned to confront them. “Do you have her purse?”

Neither agent responded. Instead, the woman asked for his driver’s license.

Lucy, looking wide-eyed and nervous, ran up as he handed it over. She had the basketball clutched to her chest as if it were a life jacket. She recognized authority when she saw it, and Nealy realized she thought they were after her. “It’s okay, Luce. They want to talk to me.”

“Why?”

“Do you have any identification at all, ma’am?” Agent Williams asked her.

“Everything was in my purse.”