Sam glanced at Freddie. “She may have already heard it. We’ve received numerous calls today from reporters who know we have you in custody.”
The senator moaned and dropped his head into his hands.
“Detective, please arrange for an outside line for Senator Lightfeather,” Sam said to Freddie.
“Yes, Lieutenant.”
Sam stood up. “We’ll give you a minute to make your call. Please be aware that we will be monitoring the call.”
Freddie brought in a phone and plugged it into a jack. Handing the receiver to the senator, he hit the button to get an outside line.
Sam and Freddie left him alone and stepped into the observation room where they found Captain Malone and Chief Farnsworth waiting for them.
“What’ve you got, Lieutenant?” Farnsworth asked.
“Not enough to charge him,” she said, frustrated. “Let’s listen in for a minute.”
“Annette,” Lightfeather said, his head resting on his free hand. “Something has happened.” He began to weep as he told his wife about his involvement with Regina. “I need you to come. Can you come?” He listened for a moment. “I know, honey, but I really need you. I’ve made a terrible mistake.”
Sam wondered if he meant that. From what she’d seen, he’d hardly considered his affair with Regina a mistake. Part of her wanted to call Annette Lightfeather and tell her to stay put in Arizona. Sam hated when political wives stood by their scumbag husbands after they’d embroiled their families in scandal.
As the conversation ended, Sam deduced that Annette would arrive in Washington before the end of the day. She turned to the chief. “I’m going to release him with orders to stay in the city until we close the case. Even though he’s got motive galore, his alibi for the time of death is tight.” To Freddie, she said, “Tell me more about this anchor baby thing.”
“I remember reading about it in the paper last year. The numbers were quite startling—something like 8 or 9 percent of all babies born in the U.S. in 2008 were anchor babies. There’s been a lot of talk about repealing the 14
th
Amendment to close the loophole in the immigration laws.”
“Didn’t they just pass a new immigration bill?” Sam asked, thinking of the O’Connor-Martin bill that Nick had worked so hard on as John O’Connor’s chief of staff. Ensuring passage of his friend’s bill had been Nick’s first order of business as a senator.
“Yes,” Freddie said, “but it didn’t address this issue.”
Sam made a mental note to read up on the amendment and to get Nick’s thoughts on the anchor baby issue. “It’s time to start digging into Regina’s life,” she said.
“Agreed,” Malone said.
“Go ahead and spring the senator,” Farnsworth said. “But dig into his life too. He certainly had motive.”
“We’re on it,” Sam said. “Cruz, let’s have him make the call to Regina’s family before we release him.”
“One thing, L.T.,” Freddie said, “McBride let me know that she’s getting stonewalled by the cell phone company. They’re not willing to release records for Regina or especially Lightfeather without subpoenas.”
“McBride told them she’d been murdered?”
Freddie nodded. “The direct quote was something like, ‘We’re not giving you the private cell records of a United States senator without a subpoena. We don’t care what he’s suspected of.’ Don’t forget—her cell was in his name. He got it for her and paid for it, so they’re both listed as his.”
“Well, then get them the subpoenas. I want that data ASAP.”
“You got it,” Freddie said on his way out.
“I don’t get these powerful guys who risk everything and think they’re never going to get caught,” Malone said.
“I don’t get the passive political wives who stand by their men,” Sam said. “If my husband cheated on me, there’s no way he’d get me to stand meekly by him while he tried to explain away his failings.” She watched as the two men exchanged amused glances. “What?”
“Given this some significant thought, huh?” Farnsworth said.
“Hardly,” Sam said with a snort. “My future husband knows if he ever cheats on me I’d shoot him before I’d
ever
stand by his side like the humiliated little wife.”
The two men laughed.
“You think I’m kidding?” Sam asked.
“Oh, we know you mean it,” Malone said, making a poor attempt at a serious expression. “Poor Nick. Someone really ought to warn him.”
“No one needs to warn him,” Farnsworth said. “He knows he’s got the best of the best at home. Why would he ever look elsewhere?”
Embarrassed by the compliment, Sam smiled at the man she’d called Uncle Joe as a child. “Thank you for that.”
“I only speak the truth.” He headed for the door with Malone following him. “Keep us in the loop.”
“I will.” When she was alone, Sam got to work on her murder board, beginning at the left side with photos from the crime scene. She made a column for information about Lightfeather.
Freddie returned to the room. “Um, boss, we have a small problem.”
“What’s that?”
“The building is surrounded by press. They know we’ve got Lightfeather here, and they’re clamoring for the story.”
Sam thought for a second. “Here’s what we’re going to do.”
Nick slid into the back of the sedan and quickly shut the door. “Jesus,” he said to his driver, Tony. “That was insane.”
Tony chuckled. “You’re more popular than ever, Senator. Never seen anything like the numbers you’re drawing on the stump.”
“Senator O’Connor had similar turnouts.”
“Not like this he didn’t.” He glanced into the rearview mirror. “Ready for your next stop?”
“Yes.” Nick rested his head back against the seat. “Thanks.” He watched the VCU campus roll past. “What do you suppose it is, Tony?”
“Sir?”
“That brings them out in such numbers.”
Once again, Tony laughed. “You’re young, handsome, full of hope, humble. People relate to you and your story.”
“Senator O’ Connor was all those things too.”
“He didn’t have the same…what’s the word I’m looking for? Charisma.”
“It’s because I took his place after he died.”
“You’d be selling yourself short if you think it’s just that. There’s something about you they’ve connected with.”
“Yeah, my love life. They’re all connected to that.”
“Doesn’t hurt,” Tony said, smiling into the mirror. “It’s a combination of all those things. You were the right guy at the right time.”
“I guess.” Nick pondered what Tony had said. He’d known the man a long time as he’d been John’s driver for years. Living as close as he did to the state he represented, Nick—and John before him—relied on Tony to get him around to campaign stops that were within driving distance.
He usually made use of the time in the car to work. Today, he was using the time to think. More than one hundred thousand people had shown up for the VCU rally, which was four times the number they’d expected. Despite the cold, the numbers had forced the rally outdoors to Monroe Park.
“I hear they’ve got four thousand on the waiting list for tonight’s fundraiser,” Tony said. “The money is rolling in.”
Millions had flooded into his campaign since he’d declared his candidacy. “It’s an embarrassment of riches,” Nick said.
“Enjoy it while it lasts. You’ll do something to screw it up eventually.”
Nick cracked up at the dryly spoken comment. “Gee, thanks.”
“I’m just razzing ya. You’ve got the golden touch, Senator. You can ride the wave all the way to Pennsylvania Avenue at this rate.”
The Democratic National Committee had already expressed an interest in running him in the primary in three years. President Nelson had started out strong, but his numbers had fallen off in recent months, and the party was considering its options should their incumbent choose not to seek a second term. Nick couldn’t believe his name was even in the mix. He’d only been in the Senate for a month and a half and was in the midst of his first campaign. The notion of running for president was almost laughable—until he remembered the sea of people at the rally chanting his name and clamoring for a handshake or autograph. This whole thing was still unreal to him. His best friend and boss had been murdered by the twenty-year-old son John kept hidden from even his closest friend. Despite all the doors John’s death had opened for Nick, he’d gladly give it all up to have his friend back.
Tony pulled up to the curb outside a nondescript red brick building in downtown Richmond. “Here ya are, Senator.”
This stop had not been on his official schedule for the day, and Nick was relieved to note that his traveling band of reporters had not followed him here. “See you in a bit,” he said to Tony on the way out of the car.
Inside, Irene Littlefield, director of the state home for children, greeted him. She’d appealed to his office for help in ensuring the continuation of a crucial federal grant that helped to fund the program. Nick figured her to be in her early sixties. “Senator,” she said, shaking his hand, “it’s such an honor to have you here. The children have been looking forward to your visit.”
“It’s great to be here. I’ve heard wonderful things about your program.”
“That’s nice of you to say. We do what we can with the resources made available to us. Let me introduce you to the children.”
“That’d be great.” He followed her through sterile-looking hallways in what used to be a VCU dormitory to a homey-looking common area filled with sofas, a big-screen TV, games and books. About thirty scrubbed and polished children waited patiently to say hello. Over the next half hour, Nick visited with each of them and marveled at their excellent manners and enthusiasm.
“We’ve asked Scotty to give you a tour of the facility,” Mrs. Littlefield said after each of the children had had a chance to visit with Nick. She had her hands on the shoulders of a boy who was maybe eleven or twelve. His dark hair looked like it had been brushed into submission for the occasion. He wore a smart-looking navy sweater with khaki pants.
He flashed a mischievous grin. “I’ve been here the longest, so I got the short straw.”
Nick laughed. “I’ll try not to ask too many questions.”
Scotty smiled at him. “Right this way, Senator.”
As Nick followed him through the hallways, Scotty kept up a steady stream of chatter, pointing out the kitchen and dining room and discussing the food, which apparently ranged from fabulous to gross, depending on the chef’s mood.
“What’s your favorite meal?” Nick asked him.
“Spaghetti,” Scotty said without hesitation.
“Ahhh, a man after my own heart.”
“That’s your favorite too?”
“Sure is. A good Italian boy like me has to get his pasta fix at least once a week.”
“I don’t know if I’m Italian, but I’d eat spaghetti every day if I could.”
Nick felt a pull of compassion for the boy. “What are some of your other favorite things?”
“Baseball,” Scotty said without hesitation.
“What team?”
“The Red Sox.”
“Get out of here,” Nick said, laughing. “You’re just saying that to impress me.”
“I am not! I’ve always loved the Sox.”
“I grew up just north of Boston. I’ve been a Sox fan all my life.”
Scotty’s eyes got very big. “Have you been to Fenway Park?”
“Many times.” He didn’t add that he’d been twenty-four the first time he could afford to attend a game at the fabled ballpark.
“Oh, you’re so lucky! I’d give anything to go there and sit in the Monster seats. I’ve read every book I could find on the Red Sox and Fenway Park. Did you see the movie
Fever Pitch
? It’s my favorite.”
Nick wished he could wave a magic wand and be sitting atop the Green Monster wall in Fenway Park with Scotty and a couple of Fenway Franks. “I loved that movie. I’m sure you’ll get to Fenway someday.”
“As soon as I have any money, that’s the first place I’ll go.”
“How did you become a fan?”
“My grandfather was from Boston. He talked about the Red Sox all the time. Ted Williams was his favorite player. Did you ever see him play?”
Nick winced. “How old do you think I am, man?”
“Oh, sorry.”
Nick mussed his hair. “Don’t be sorry. I was just kidding. Is your grandfather still alive?”
Scotty shook his head. “He had a heart attack when I was six. A month later, my mom OD’ed. That’s how I ended up here.” He ushered Nick into his small room. “But it’s not so bad.”
Nick’s heart broke when he imagined the horror of six-year-old Scotty losing his grandfather and then his mother. “You don’t have any other family?”
“Nope. My mom had sisters but they were estringed.”
“You mean estranged?”
“Yeah, that’s it. They didn’t talk to her because of her drug problems.”
“What about your dad?”
“Never knew him.” He rifled through some things on the desk. “Check this out—a Dustin Pedroia rookie card.”
Nick examined the cellophane-sealed baseball card. “Wow. Look at that. You should take really good care of it. I bet it’ll be worth big money someday.”
“That’s what Mr. Sanchez said. He was my math teacher last year. He’s a Nats fan,” Scotty said, referring to the Washington Nationals. “He took me to a game when the Nats played the Sox in interleague play. It was my first time to a real ballpark, and I got to see the Sox. Best day of my life.”
“I went to one of those games.”
“The one I went to, the Sox won three to two.”
“That’s the one I was at!”
“Hey, that’s cool.”
Nick sat on the bed and looked around at the sparse room. “You need some posters for your walls. Who’s your favorite player? I’ll send you one.”
“That’s really nice of you, but we aren’t allowed to hang stuff on our walls. The custodian says the tape takes the paint off.”
Nick’s scowl made the boy laugh.
“Rules are rules,” Scotty said with a shrug.
“If we were breaking the rules for a minute, who would you want on your wall?”
“That’s easy—Big Papi. He’s the
bomb
.”
Nick smiled. “His
bat
is the bomb.”
“That’s why I love him.” Scotty sat next to Nick on the bed. “So you’re really a senator?”
Even though it was still hard to believe sometimes, Nick said, “I really am.”
“Isn’t that kind of a boring job?”
Nick hooted with laughter. “It can be. You have to do a
lot
of reading.”
Scotty’s face screwed up with distaste. “I wouldn’t like that. I
hate
to read.”
“I used to hate it too, but now it’s easier. Do you play any sports?”
“Just baseball with some of the other kids here. There’s no money for Little League or anything like that.”
Nick ached listening to his easy acceptance of the hand life had dealt him. Talking with Scotty brought back memories of his own lonely childhood, spent with a grandmother who’d never missed the opportunity to remind him that there were other things she’d rather be doing than raising her son’s child.
“Do you play any sports?” Scotty asked.
“Just some pickup basketball here and there at the gym. I used to play a lot of hockey. I was pretty good at that.”
“I’d
love
to play hockey, but it’s really expensive.”
“Yeah, it can be.” Nick recalled how grateful he’d been the year his father sent enough money for him to play. “So this seems like a nice place to live.”
“It’s okay. One of the kids in my class at school is in foster care, and he has to move a lot. I wouldn’t like that.”
“You probably have more of a chance of being adopted here.”
“Nah, everyone wants babies. They go fast. The rest of us have each other. It’s kind of like having thirty brothers and sisters to fight with.”
He was so matter of fact that Nick realized the child had stopped hoping anything would ever change.
Mrs. Littlefield appeared at the door. “I guess you can see why we call Scotty ‘The Mayor,’ Senator,” she said with a smile. “He’s never met a stranger.”
“He’s an excellent tour guide,” Nick said, earning a grin from the boy. “The next time the Sox come to Baltimore or Washington, what’d you say I get us a couple of tickets to a game?”
Scotty’s eyes widened. “For real?”
“Sure. I’d love to take in a game with another Sox fan.”
“But how would I get there?”
“You let me worry about that. You just take care of doing really well in school, okay?”
“Okay! Thank you!”
Nick stood up and shook hands with the boy. “It was great to meet you, Scotty.”
“You too, Senator. Thanks for coming to see us.”
“It was my pleasure.” It had been, Nick realized, the most pleasant half hour he’d spent at work since he took the oath of office. With one last smile for the boy, Nick followed Mrs. Littlefield from the room. “What a delightful kid.”
“He’s the heart and soul of this place. The other kids follow him around like the Pied Piper. I don’t know what we’d ever do without him.”
“There’s really no chance of him being adopted?”
Mrs. Littlefield sighed. “Unfortunately, the older he gets the less likely it becomes. But not to worry, we’ll take good care of him until he comes of age.”
“And then what? Who’ll take care of him then?”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand, Senator. He’ll be an adult.”
“I apologize for my tone. It’s just that I was thrust out on my own at eighteen and found the world to be a rather harsh place for an ‘adult.’”
“I understand what you mean, and I can assure you that Scotty will have plenty of adults to call on should he encounter any difficulties. My staff and I are quite fond of him.”
“I have something I’d like to send him. Would it be possible to get his last name and the address here?”
She wrote the information on the back of her business card and handed it to him. “Here you go.”
“Thank you.”
They reached the front door and Nick shook her hand. “I appreciate your time today, Mrs. Littlefield. I’ll have a chat with the people overseeing your grant and see what we can do about getting it renewed.”
“We’ll appreciate anything you can do, Senator.”
“I’ll be in touch,” Nick said on his way out.
Tony held the car door open for him. Once inside the car, Nick looked back at the building. From an upstairs window, Scotty watched him leave. Nick glanced down at the business card in his hand. Scotty Dunlap. He reached for his BlackBerry and got busy ordering a David “Big Papi” Ortiz jersey.