A week of surveillance later, as Sam prepared for yet another deadly boring day of watching Shane Ramsey, Nick stood behind her in the bathroom, hands on her shoulders, gazing at her in the mirror. “You haven’t forgotten about tonight, right?”

Sam stared at him in the mirror, desperately trying to remember what was on the schedule.

“Sam! The State of the Union is tonight, and I need you there. We have guests coming, including Cath Powell, the mom you met in Des Moines.”

“Oh right. I knew that. I thought you meant something else.”

“Don’t lie to my face. You had no idea what I was talking about.”

“I’m sorry. This case has me obsessed. I’m starting to worry that Shane Ramsey will never fuck up.” They’d dug deeply into his life, looking for anything that could tip the judge toward approving a warrant for his DNA, but had struck out on all fronts. IT detectives had watched hours of video trying to tie him to Rock Creek Park at the time of the attacks, but that too had failed to pan out. Frustration was running at an all-time high as they were certain he was their guy, but they still couldn’t prove it.

“He will, and you’ll get him.”

“In the meantime, his father is threatening to sue the department for harassment. He says we haven’t tried to find anyone else once we homed in on his son. That’s because we know he did it. We’re sure it was him.”

“You’ll get him. I know it. In other news, the Senate is poised to vote today to confirm Gretchen, and we have the votes, so that’s a done deal, and we should make our goal of swearing her in before the State of the Union.”

“Congratulations. I hope you two will be very happy together.”

“That was frosty, babe.” He smiled as he bent to kiss her neck. “Did Marcus send something over for you to wear tonight?”

“He did.”

“What color is it?”

“Red, I believe.”

“I love you in red, but then again, I love you in everything—and nothing. Especially nothing. Take the dress with you in case you run late.”

“What? Me, run late?”

He rolled his eyes at her in the mirror. “This is one of the few first lady command performances. There’s a reception at seven thirty at the Capitol to welcome the guests.”

“I’ll be there.” She turned so she could put her arms around his neck. “Are you nervous?”

“Not really, and I should be. It’s weird that I’m not.”

“It’s because you have faith in the speech you wrote, which I can’t wait to hear.”

When he’d offered to share it with her, she’d said she wanted to hear it in real time.