Their sixth birthday was coming up next week, the weekend after Thanksgiving, and they would have a party while Elijah was home from Princeton. Sam had relegated the details to their personal assistant, Shelby Faircloth Hill, the ultimate party planner, who would pull it off without breaking a sweat, whereas Sam would’ve been lost on where to even start.
Thank God for Shelby.
She arrived at HQ and drove around the building to the entrance by the morgue, her first stop being a check-in with Lindsey. “Give me something, give me anything.”
Lindsey looked up from where she was typing on a computer. As usual, she had her long red hair in a ponytail and a tall coffee sitting on her desk. “I got something. Come see?”
“Do I gotta?” Sam hated the morgue and everything that went on there.
“Yep.”
Sam hoped her breakfast would stay where she’d put it and not come rushing up at the sight of something that could never be unseen. “Here I come.” This was one of those times when deep breathing didn’t help, unless the smell of formaldehyde settled your stomach. It only made Sam’s feel worse, so no deep breathing.
Lindsey led her to the table where Ginny was laid out, a sheet covering her that Lindsey peeled back to reveal the nasty injury to her neck that had killed her. “See this?” she asked after she snapped on gloves and pointed to the edges of the wound.
“What about it?”
“I believe you’re looking for a yard implement or something with pointed, sharp edges that would’ve created this pattern.”
Now that she pointed to it, Sam saw the pattern.
“Like a garden cultivator or what’s sometimes called a Garden Weasel.”
“A what? So not a gardener here.”
“It’s a handheld tool that’s used to clear weeds and such. Has three very sharp rotating tines that churn up the dirt.”
“Rotating tines? Ouch.”
“I know.”
“But that would indicate that whoever killed her maybe didn’t go there with a plan. They likely grabbed the yard tool in the garage and attacked her.”
“That’s what I’m thinking too.”
“This is good stuff, Doc. You’ve given me a thread to pull.”
“And we all know how much you love your threads.”
“Indeed.”
“The tox screen came back negative for drugs or alcohol in her system. No sign of sexual assault, and I saw no other obvious injuries besides the one to her neck that killed her and the cuts on her face. If I had to speculate, your perp grabbed the first available object and took her out.”
“That sounds like a plausible theory—and he or she got lucky with the first strike.”
“It would seem so.”
Sam stepped out of the freezing-cold room to call CSU Lieutenant Haggerty.
She got his voice mail, which irritated her. “It’s Holland. Call me when you can. I’ve got something.” After slapping her phone closed, she turned to speak to Lindsey, who’d followed her out into the hall. “I’ll tell you something Terry is going to hear today that also affects you as Terry’s fiancée, but it’s top secret otherwise.”
“What’s that?”
“Nick isn’t going to run.”
Lindsey’s eyes went wide. “Wow, that’s huge.”
“I know, and frankly, I’m relieved.”
“I’m sure. Did Nick say why?”
“You know how he was raised, right? Teenage parents and a grandmother who didn’t really want him around?”
“I’ve heard that.”
“He doesn’t want to be president. Plus, he’s waited all his life for what we have now, and he doesn’t want to spend months on end away from us on the campaign trail.”
“That’s so sweet.”
“I think so too, and I’m thrilled he won’t be gone all the time. I almost lost my shit when he was in Europe for a week, and when he went to Iran. Ugh…”
“I feel you. It’s tough for me when Terry travels with him, so this is good news for me too, even if I loved the idea of Nick being president. He would’ve been really great.”
“I agree, but we’re looking forward to getting our lives back after he leaves office. As much as we love Brant and the other agents, their presence is a tad intrusive at times.”
“I bet it’s way more than a tad intrusive. I’d hate being watched all the time like that.”
“Nick says he understands now what it’s like to be a goldfish in a bowl with everyone looking at him.”
“That’s a great way to put it.”
“It’s the truth. Well, I need to hit it. I’ve got a noon date with my husband to pay a visit to the reporter who asked if we’re going to have kids of our own.”