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“All the time, and you should, too, since your public-facing comments and posts will be archived for history in Nick’s presidential library.”
As Sam cringed to let him know what she thought of that, the BlackBerry rang with a call from Nick.
“Hey,” she said. “Speak of the devil. How’s things?”
“Just ducky,” Nick said with an edge of sarcasm in his tone that told the true story. “I’m with the kids, and we’re wondering if we should hold dinner for you.”
“No, go ahead. I’m going to pop into the grief group meeting before I head home.”
“Oh, that’s right. You told me you were doing that.”
“No worries. I’m sure you’ve had a long day since we had that conversation.”
“I’ll feed them and wait to eat with you.”
“Sounds good. I won’t be long at the meeting. I just like to show my face in support of the effort.”
“Maybe you ought to stay this time and participate.”
“We’ll see.”
“Whatever you need, babe.”
“I’ll text when I’m on the way home.”
“Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
“How is he?” Freddie asked after she put the BlackBerry back on the table.
“He sounds exhausted.”
“I suppose that’s to be expected when your top military officials plot to overthrow your government,” Freddie said, “while your mother is in jail on racketeering charges and your disgraced former secretary of State is trashing you to anyone who’ll listen.”
Sam sighed. “That’s a hell of a mouthful.”
“It’s a hell of a crap storm.”
“Yes, it is. I worry about him buckling under the weight of it all.”
“He won’t. He’s tough, and he knows how to handle himself in all situations, including these.”
“I hope so.”
“He’s got this, Sam. You don’t have to worry.”
“And yet, I do.”
Freddie stood to stretch and then returned to his seat. “I’m looking at Liliana’s Instagram posts. They validate everything the grandmother told us.” He put the printouts on the table in front of her. Marcel was shown with each of his kids, playing in the yard, pushing them on swings, painting a canvas on an easel with little Gus.
Sam zeroed in on the painting photo and then reached for the autopsy report.
“What?” Freddie asked.
“Let me see the rest of the Insta photos.”
He handed them to her.
