I back away from the bed.

I hear footsteps behind me. The woman pushes me aside. “Leo!” she cries, leaning over him. “What happened?”

I look on helplessly as Amalfi’s body spasms. His face twitches.

One of the men comes around and grabs the woman’s shoulders. He holds her tight as she sinks to the floor, wailing. “Call the doctor!” he says.

The old man’s chest rises and falls. His breaths come harder. Then, suddenly, he’s frozen still, mouth and eyes wide open.

One of the other men takes a step toward me. “You need to leave.”

Suddenly I feel a cold, dark chill in the pit of my stomach. Were these the men Amalfi sent? Were these the last faces Garrett saw?

My mind is spinning with all kinds of dark thoughts as I back out of the room and hurry to the Subaru.

I just watched Leo Amalfi die and I don’t know how I feel about it.

I reach into my pocket and grab my iPhone. I click to the voice-memos app. Yes. It’s all there. The whole precious five minutes. I press the red button to stop recording and save the file.

A dying declaration from a hit man.

Garrett would be proud of me. At least I hope so.

CHAPTER
84

Manchester, New Hampshire

From his seat on the Air Force C-37A, the First Gentleman glances down at the office buildings and old brick factories of Manchester, New Hampshire. In the seat across from him, Secret Service agent Doug Lambert types on his iPad.

Cole Wright is jumpy and anxious. Not about making a stump speech for a local mayor. From the California governor’s mansion to the White House, he’s done countless similar events.

What he’s nervous about is being out of DC while Maddy prepares for her big address. He’s long been her favorite sounding board when she tries out key phrases and closings. Not this time. The only person who’s heard her rehearse is Burton Pearce.

They’re all hoping the power play will work. The plan is for Maddy, with core senators and House leaders at her side, to roll over any opposition and secure popular support. She’s been banking goodwill with legislators and constituents for years. This is when it needs to pay off—big-time.

A uniformed airman makes his way down the aisle. “We’ll be landing shortly. Seat belts, please.”

One of Cole’s aides, Maeve Fusco, come over and hands him an index card.

“Any changes?” Cole asks, tucking the card in his breast pocket.