“Do you think she overheard us?” I mouthed at her.

She shrugged.

“I should go,” I said.

“I’ll escort you to the lobby.” She sounded chastened.

At the elevator she said under her breath, “I told you it was bad here. I didn’t realize she’s been keeping a naughty-and-nice list like Santa. Jeez. What do you bet I’m on the bad list? Where’s your car, by the way?”

“The garage down the street.”

“I wouldn’t drive to the Folger if I were you. Parking’s a misery. You’d be better off taking a cab or Ubering and leaving your car here.”

“That’s a good idea.”

“When are we going to talk?” she asked.

“Are you coming home for Christmas in Middleburg this weekend?”

“Of course. I’m bringing my mother. She’s still such a kid about Christmas.”

Faith Eastman, Kit’s mother, had been like a second mother to me after my mother was killed when her horse threw her in a riding accident. I adored Faith. Now she lived in a nearby assisted living home.

“We’ll find time to talk over the weekend. Somehow,” I said.

“Good.”

The elevator arrived and we stepped in. In the lobby downstairs she hugged me and took my badge. “I’ll sign you out. Good luck with your meeting.”

“Thanks. Hey—is there really a betting pool?”

She hesitated. “There is. Journalists are the worst cynics in the world.”

“Who’s … I mean, is there a…?”

Her smile was lopsided. “Who do you think it is?”

“Alex?”

“You didn’t even hesitate.” She pointed a finger at me. “Bingo.”

I LEFT THE TRIBUNE building and walked to the corner of Farragut Square where Connecticut Avenue, K Street, and 17th Street intersected and where it would be easy to hail a cab and probably faster than Uber. A black Lincoln Town Car pulled up alongside me as I put up my hand and someone powered down the rear passenger window.

“Lucie?” Grant Lowry looked out of the window. “I thought I recognized you. Heading somewhere?”

“The Hill,” I said.

The car door opened. “In that case, hop in. That’s where I’m going. I’ve got a meeting in the Capitol.”

I did not feel like getting in a car with Grant Lowry and having to explain to him where I was really going.

“I don’t want to trouble you. I’ll just catch a cab … thanks, anyway.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” he said, smiling and opening the door wider. “Besides, you look like you’re freezing out there.”

As if on cue a stinging blast of wind blew the hood of my coat so it flew up and whipped my hair into my face.

“Come on,” he said. “Get in before the next wind gust blows you away completely. It’s cold.”