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How was it, with all the problems facing the country and the world, the first thing he had to deal with was his goddamned mother?
Nick scanned the statement.As we have said many times in the past, President Cappuano has no relationship with his mother and as such will have no comment on her arrest.
“We figured we should keep it short and sweet so there’s no room to read between the lines,” Terry said.
“That’s fine,” Nick said. “You can issue it, Christina.”
“Thank you, sir.”
After she’d left the room, Terry took a seat in the chair next to the desk. “Are you okay?” He asked as Nick’s friend and not as his chief of staff.
“It is what it is,” Nick replied. “Or, I should say, she is what she is. She’ll never change, and I gave up hoping for a real mother years ago. Thanks to your mom, I know what a real mother is.” Laine O’Connor had shown him that time and again since he first met her as a Harvard freshman when Terry’s late brother, John, had brought Nick home to Virginia.
“I talked to Dad this morning on the way in,” Terry said of retired Senator Graham O’Connor, who’d been an extra father and mentor to Nick. “They’re outraged on your behalf.”
“Believe it or not, it helps to hear that.”
“We know better than just about anyone what an asshole she is.”
Nick smiled. “Thanks for the support, friend. It means a lot.”
“Is everything okay with Sam? Things seemed tense between you guys the last time I saw her.”
“We worked it out. I wasn’t happy to be blindsided by my mother’s impending arrest, but at least I got advance notice it was coming.”
“So Sam asked Avery to investigate your mother?”
He nodded. “She said it happened during a fit of rage over that shitty interview my mother gave.”
“Ah, I see. Well, I have to say I don’t blame her for being furious about that interview. It was a total hatchet job.”
“Anyway, enough abouther. I’m sure there’s real work to be done.”
“Plenty of it,” Terry said as he stood. “We’re due to the morning security briefing in the Situation Room in ten minutes.”
Nick grabbed the binder he’d taken “home” the night before that he’d marked with questions and thoughts for the briefing, which he thought of as the little shop of daily horrors. If people knew what really went on in the world, no one would feel safe anywhere. He’d liked it better when he hadn’t known such things.
“MayI get you something to drink?” Sam asked Graciela when they had her settled in the conference room at HQ. “Water or coffee?”
She shook her head and reached for another tissue from the box Sam had placed on the table. “No, thank you.”
“Detective Cruz is calling your son and Liliana’s sister. Is there anyone local I could call to come in to be with you?”
“My neighbor Bertie Dawson. She’d come.”
Sam wrote down the number Graciela gave her. “I’m going to step out for just a minute, but I’ll be right back.”
Graciela nodded as if she couldn’t care less what Sam did. And who could blame her for not caring? The people she’d loved best were gone forever.
Leaning against the cinderblock wall outside the conference room, Sam made the call to Bertie. “Is this Bertie Dawson?”
“Yes.”
“This is Lieutenant Sam Holland with the DC Metro Police Department.”
“You’re the first lady!”
Sam closed her eyes and prayed for patience. “Yes, I am. I’m here with Graciela Blanchet.”
