Chapter Seventeen
Life just can’t be easy, I suppose.
Thank god Leo is there. He helps catch Kevin, who starts to collapse. I order someone to go get Chris and bring him down to my study, but not to tell him why.
I’m stunned, in shock, and trying to function and process, all at the same time.
The agent, Doug Jackson, worked with Chris, and waits until he comes running and joins us to repeat what he said.
Chris and I sit flanking Kev on the sofa in my study when the agent continues. “Mr. Markos, I know from White House logs and the agents stationed here last night that you never left the property, but before I allow MPDC investigators entry, do you need to consult with an attorney?”
“No,” Chris hoarsely says as he holds him. “He—”
“Sir,” Kev softly said. “Don’t.”
“No, fuck that shit, Kev.” Chris looks up at the agent. “He was in the residence all night. He spends the night a lot, and the records will show that. We all ate dinner together, even Lauren. I don’t remember exactly what time she left, but after the kids went to bed, me and Kev and Shae were talking. I woke him up this morning when I got up to make the coffee before I got the kids ready for school.”
Technically, that’s all true. Just not…specific as to where Kev was sleeping.
The agent studies us and Leo and nods his agreement.
“Do you want me to let them in, ma’am?” the agent finally asks me.
Kev’s head is resting on Chris’ shoulder, but we both have our arms around him. “Yes, please. Bring them in here. Can we clear the halls?”
“Yes, ma’am. Tours haven’t started yet.”
“Do that, then. Please. And come back with them. I want you here, too, so you can go with them to show them the proof he was here.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When he leaves, Kev slowly shakes his head. “This can’t be happening,” he moans.
Chris holds him tighter. “We’ve got you, boy. I’ve got you. We’re going to take care of you.”
I can’t help but cry, and Leo hands out tissues.
Doug and the two DCMP detectives return a few minutes later. I let Chris take the lead and handle summarizing Kev’s alibi, until they focus on Kev.
“Mr. Markos, do you know anyone who’d want to harm Ms. Baltazar?” the lead detective asks.
He shakes his head. “No.”
“Would you mind coming with us for a little while?”
That’s when I finally remember one key fucking point—I’m a goddamned attorney.
“Yes,” I say. “He would mind. You haven’t read him his rights, we have proof he was with us all night, and he’s not a suspect. We all loved Lauren.”
“Shae,” Kev says, sitting up. “Calm down, honey. It’s okay.” I grab his right hand with my left, and I glance up to realize the detectives see our matching bands, because they look at Chris’ hand.
When the detectives exchange a look, I know they just realized why Kev’s alibi is air-tight, but I could give a fuck.
“Ma’am,” the lead detective says, “we are certain Mr. Markos was here. And you’re correct—he’s not a suspect. But we need someone to positively identify her, and it’s our understanding they are still…close.”
Well, I feel stupid. “Oh.”
“What happened?” Chris asks. “When did this happen?”
Best they can tell, it happened less than two hours after she left the White House. She took an Uber to a small market less than five blocks from the complex where her townhome is, shopped, then according to the clerk on duty, she left on foot.
She never made it.
Her body was found about ninety minutes ago, pulled into some bushes in a park about a block from her townhome. Her purse was missing, so they assume she was robbed. Except her keys and both her personal and work phones were in her jacket pockets. There was no sign of sexual assault, and it looks like she was shot in the back.
One of the officers recognized her, which was how they quickly put together her identity.
They are in the process of canvassing the neighborhood and checking security cameras from nearby businesses for any clues as to who did it.
“Why would they shoot her?” Kev asks, and he sounds so heartbroken I want to go nuke someone, anyone, to make them pay for doing this to my Sir. “She would have handed over her purse. She wouldn’t have fought.”
“We don’t know, sir,” the detective says. “We hope to find that out.”
I want to go, but I know I can’t. I’m going to send Chris with him, except—
“Dammit, the kids,” he says. “I need to go get the kids from school and tell them. I can’t have them learning this from someone there. Media will be swarming once this breaks.”
“Go,” I tell him.
He looks at Kev, then me, then the detectives. Finally, back to Kev. I’ve never seen Kev so gutted.
I don’t think I’ve processed this yet.
“Have you told her family yet?” Kev hoarsely asks.
“No, sir. We need you to…verify it’s her.”
He staggers to his feet, swaying a little. Chris and I stand with him, Chris catching him and me wrapping my arms around him from behind as Leo hovers close.
Chris cups Kev’s face in his hands and whispers something to him, getting a nod before he presses a long, tender kiss to Kev’s forehead. Chris turns to Leo. “Stay with him, please.”
It’s not a request, and Leo and I both know it.
Leo nods. “Yes, sir.”
Chris heads out.
I make Kev turn so I can hug him. When I start to kiss him, he acts like he’s going to pull away, but I nip that shit in the bud. “Stop, Sir,” I quietly say, and he bows his head, nodding, renewed tears ripping me apart.
I pull him into my arms and kiss him. “I love you, Sir,” I whisper. “We’re here. We’ll get you through this, I promise.”
He nods. “I love you, too, baby,” he whispers back.
Leo takes over. “Call me,” I tell Leo. “Keep me posted.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
They all start to head out, but I catch the lead detective’s arm and hold him back, waiting until Kev’s out of earshot.
I glare at him. “He’s family,” I tell him. “He’s my husband’s best friend, and even more to both of us. Please, take care of him.”
He wears a somber expression. “Ma’am, I swear, we’ll have him back here as soon as we can. He’s not a suspect,” he repeats. “They assure me there’s no way he could’ve sneaked out and back in without detection. We won’t even need to mention your…alibi.”
“Good.” As he leaves, I realize we have an even bigger problem now, and I hate that I can shift gears so fast.
I go wash my face and blow my nose, then I find Benjamin Cussler in his office and close his door behind me.
He stands, looking worried. “Ma’am?”
I wave him down and sit, quickly catching him up.
He blinks back tears and looks as stunned and gutted as I feel. “I…shit.”
“You, Angie, Tim Bayard. My study, five minutes. Postpone the staff meeting, do not tell anyone yet what’s going on.”
He nods. “Yes, ma’am.”
I stand. “Listen, Lauren would fricking wring our necks if we bungle this. All we can do right now is honor her by doing what we can do, the best we can do it.”
“Yes, ma’am. You’re right.” He reaches for a tissue from the box of them on his desk.
As I head back to my study, I realize there’s another call I need to make. I buzz my secretary and ask her to send Elliot in as soon as she can locate him. I’m in my study with my three stunned staffers when he knocks.
“Come.”
He opens the door, reacting with understandable shock when he sees Angie sitting there and sobbing, with Tim trying to comfort her.
“What’s going on?”
I wave him in, already feeling exhausted. “Come in, Elliot. We need to talk.”
* * * *
Four hours later, Leo is filling me in via text. It was definitely her. Kevin is the one who called her parents to break the news to them. Now, Kev and Leo are at her townhouse with the DCMP, going over things to see if there’s any evidence.
But it looks like she never made it home, nothing out of place, and Kevin even showed them how to pull the alarm log for her house.
She armed it yesterday morning and it wasn’t disarmed until Kevin arrived with the detectives.
They found one security camera that showed someone in a black hoodie walking behind her approximately five minutes before she was killed, but it’s impossible to tell the person’s gender or race. It looks like they were wearing sweats, so it’s also impossible to accurately guess their age or build, either.
Once the news breaks, we are hammered. I send Elliot on to the campaign event without me. It’s a large one, or I would’ve cancelled it. I beg the Senate Majority Leader to go with him, because she’s not up for re-election this year and not engaged in her own campaigning, and she agrees.
The kids are devastated.
I clear my calendar for the rest of the day and spend it with them and Chris.
For security reasons, Chris orders Kev be brought back to the White House for tonight. Once he’s here, after the kids get to hug him, Chris takes Kev into our bedroom and closes the door. They know he’s Chris’ best friend, and that he’s close to both of us, but I also know that, one day soon, we’ll need to have a conversation with them about privacy, and not talking about family business, and, oh, yeah, some people have more than one partner.
Not today, though.
It’s bad enough I find out Rep. Markos made an impassioned speech on the floor of the House today, tearfully recalling his “fond memories” of his former daughter-in-law and insisting that this is proof more people in DC need guns, so they can defend themselves.
I know from taking office that there are no hidden aliens in Area 51, the CIA didn’t kill JFK, and yes, we did land on the moon.
Unfortunately, I also know that I cannot order a hit on Edwin Markos.
Even though I really, really wish I could.
* * * *
Despite our shock and grief, we have a country to run. Chris’ staff helps Kevin plan a memorial service for her here in DC, and I order flags flown at half-staff.
I send Air Force One to bring her parents to DC, and they’ll be staying at Blair House. I wanted to put them up here in the White House, but Kev said it’d be better to let them stay there so they can have a little privacy.
I defer to my Sir.
Over the next couple of days, I don’t get to see much of Kev. Chris and the kids get to see him more than I do, and once again I’m reminded how much parts of this job of mine suuuuuuck.
The country is fixated, however, on the images of our grief, on the outpouring of sympathy, not just from government officials and lawmakers, but from the media.
And my poll numbers go up.
Which…I haaaate that this is the reason. I’d gladly drop out of the fucking election if we had Lauren back.
I can’t help feeling…guilty. I mean, we don’t have a suspect in custody, there’s no sign of her credit cards being used—nothing.
If it’s simply another random tragedy, I’m not sure how to get over that.
They still haven’t found the driver who killed Charles and Tory, and this pulls all of that pain not only to the surface for Chris, the kids, and myself, but also it dredges up that story for newscasters to remind everyone no, that driver is still unknown and at large.
It’s not…fair.
I call Benchley the night before the funeral and cry in his ear. Susa and Carter are coming for the funeral tomorrow, but now he’s just getting over the flu, and the doctors said he really shouldn’t travel. Tomorrow morning, we’re holding a service in the Washington National Cathedral, and then a motorcade to Andrews to fly her coffin and her parents home to Montana. There, we’ll have another church service, followed by the graveside funeral.
But at least Benchley calms me down, comforts me.
“Sweetie, one of the worst parts about wielding the kind of power you do is finding out you’re still powerless in the ways that count. I don’t have any pithy advice that will help you. All I can tell you is that Kevin will need you guys. He’ll probably push you away out of fear for the optics, but you know what? Fuck that. This is your life. Sometimes, you have to worry about the people, not the pictures. Don’t stress him out, but love him as best you can.”
As I lie awake that night and stare at the ceiling, I hate that I know he’s absolutely right.