Chapters (40)
- Cover
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-One
- Chapter Thirty-Two
- Chapter Thirty-Three
- Chapter Thirty-Four
- Chapter Thirty-Five
- Chapter Thirty-Six
- Chapter Thirty-Seven
- Epilogue
- About the Author
“That’s a fact. After Sanborn attacked her, I worried she’d never bounce back. Not only did she bounce back, but she came back stronger than ever. The Brown bust is a big fucking deal, and anyone who objects to her being promoted over more-senior officers will have to admit that a bust like that is a once-in-a-lifetime thing and results in opportunities like this.”
“She’ll be great at it.”
“Yes, she will. I wish my dad was here to see one of my detectives being put in his old office.”
“He’s here, and he knows. Hell, I wouldn’t put it past him to be orchestrating the whole thing.”
“Yeah, true,” Sam said, feeling emotional suddenly. The grief hit her at the strangest of times, such as when she was celebrating the promotion of a dear friend and colleague. She had to shake that off when her phone rang with a call from Roni Connolly.
“Hey there.”
“How’re you doing?” Roni asked.
“Very well, and you?”
“I’m good. Settling into the new job and figuring out my way around the White House.”
“Glad to hear it. I’m going to be a little scarce in the East Wing for the next little while. Things are nuts at work, as usual.”
“No worries. I wanted to let you know that, per your request, I’m meeting with Scotty after school to talk about Skippy’s Instagram platform and how we can help him manage it.”
“I can’t believe how popular that dog is,” Sam said. “Nick says she’s the most popular member of the family.”
“People love her, and they love Scotty’s story as well, but we need to help him wrangle the massive outpouring that comes with it.”
“Thanks for taking that on, Roni. Running a dog’s Instagram account isn’t in your job description.”
“It falls under ‘other duties as assigned.’”
Sam laughed. “I suppose it does. How’re you doing otherwise?” Roni had been widowed suddenly in October when her husband, Patrick, was hit by a stray bullet on 12th Street.
“I’m doing all right. I’ve joined a local group called the Wild Widows, made up of young widows supporting each other. They reached out to me through a friend of my sister’s, and so far, they’ve been great. It helps to connect with people who get it.”
“I can see how that would help. What’s with the name, though? The Wild Widows.”
“It’s taken from the Mary Oliver quote, ‘What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?’”
“Ah, I love that.”
“I know, right? While I have you, I wanted to share some other news with you.”
“What’s up?”
“Well, it seems that when Patrick died, he left me a very special gift in the form of a baby due in June.”
“Oh, Roni… That’s wonderful. It is wonderful, right?”