“So am I. You’re a thrill junkie, Samantha. You have no off switch when it comes to your work.”

“I really don’t. I need it like you need fresh air and a view of the sky. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without it. I’d be like a balloon when you let the air out of it, flailing all about.”

“I hope you know how proud I am, how proud we all are, of the work you do and how hard you fight for justice for your victims and their families. And now there’s the grief group, too. You’re making a big difference, Samantha.”

“Thank you for the kind words, but it’s a team effort, and I have the best team ever. I just wish we could do even more than we already do. There’s so much to be done and only so many hours in the day.”

“You’re doing more than enough.”

“This stuff with Calvin Worthington and Carisma Deasly makes me wonder what else there is, you know? What’s been overlooked, causing families to suffer needlessly for years?”

“You can’t save everyone, babe.”

“And I know that. I really do, but we can sure as hell try, can’t we?”

“Nothing has fallen through the cracks on your watch over the last two years.”

“No, but there was stuff from Stahl’s watch that should’ve gotten more attention. That eats at me now that I know he ignored cases. How could anyone live with themselves after doing that?”

“Don’t forget he’s the same person who tried to kill you—twice.”

“Yeah, that’s true. Speaking of people who hate me, the union is fighting Ramsey’s firing.”

“On what grounds?”

“That his fingerprints could’ve been left in my office during the regular course of business.”

“Even if the entire department can attest to the fact that he never had regular business with you, except for mouthing off at you in the hallways?”

“Yep.”

“Hopefully, that doesn’t go anywhere.”

“I guess we’ll see.”

The thought of that son of a bitch coming back to work was one she didn’t care to entertain.

Later that night, after the twins were asleep, Sam and Nick sat with Scotty, Eli, Harry, Lilia, Terry, Lindsey and Shelby to watch Saturday Night Live. Lindsey had driven up for the night but had to head back to work the next day because her deputy, Byron Tomlinson, was leaving in the morning to be the best man at his brother’s New Year’s weekend wedding.

The show’s cold open began with a handsome dark-haired actor who bore a striking resemblance to Nick sitting at the Resolute desk, reviewing a huge stack of paperwork with intense focus.

“Mr. President?”

“Yes, Terry?”

“Oh my God, I’m on SNL,” Terry said, “and they gave me a pot belly. What the hell?”