“Hey,” Sam said, hearing music playing in the background.

“What’s up?” Lindsey asked.

“Just wondering if you had anything yet on Mary Alice Albright.”

“I should know more in the morning.”

“Have you had any others like her and Spence recently? People who died suddenly for no apparent reason?”

“No, we haven’t, but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened. If the family and responding EMS don’t suspect a crime has been committed, then we might not see them.”

“So, it’s entirely possible there’ve been others, but we wouldn’t know it.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

“This helps, Linds. Thanks.”

“How’re you holding up?”

“I’m okay. I’ll be glad when we get past the funeral and stuff early next week. His brother’s family was in Italy, so we’re waiting for them to get home.”

“What an awful call to get when you’re away like that.”

“Yeah, for sure.”

“Can I do anything for you or Angela?”

“Nah, we’re okay. But thanks for asking. Everyone has been amazing through this.”

“We all wish there was more we could do.”

“I know. Me, too. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.”

They arrived at the White House a short time later, and Vernon helped her out of the car. “Sam,” he said quietly so as not to be overheard.

She turned to him.

“While you’re busy taking care of everyone else, make sure you’re taking care of yourself, okay?”

His concern touched her deeply. “I will. Thank you.”

Nodding, he stepped aside for her to go inside, where she was greeted by Harold, one of the ushers. “Evening, ma’am.”

“Evening, Harold. How goes it?”

“Very well, ma’am. Hope you had a good day.”

“It wasn’t completely awful, so that’s something, in light of current events.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said.

She headed up the stairs, despite the protest coming from her hip. When she arrived in their suite, she went straight to her laptop on the desk and called up the Washington Star website to scan the obituaries, looking for people who’d died young in recent weeks. She found two that stood out. Morgan Newell, age thirty-two, had died unexpectedly two weeks ago at her home in Glover Park.

Sam pulled out her notebook and wrote down the woman’s name and other pertinent details, such as her parents’ names.

The other, Angelo Diaz, was twenty-three and had been found dead ten days ago in his bedroom at the home he shared with his mother. Sam wrote down his mother’s name and noted that Angelo had graduated from Wilson High School five years ago.

She called Gonzo.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Have you heard back from the dealer?”

“Not yet.”

“Is that unusual?”

“Not entirely.”

“I had a thought about other recent deaths of younger people and scanned the obits. I found two from the last couple of weeks that I’ll look into in the morning. But that made me wonder if all the deaths would make the paper.”

“Not necessarily. They charge for obits these days, so a lot of people don’t bother with them. I can check the local funeral homes tonight if that would help.”