Page 21 of State of Alert

Had she not been the president’s wife, Juan never would’ve insisted she be told that she was investigating the murder of someone who was still alive and well.

“When we get back to HQ, I’m going to brief the media on what we know so far,” she said to Vernon.

“Just give us a heads-up when you’re heading out.”

“I will.”

“Are you sure you’re okay, Sam?” Vernon asked with the fatherly concern he regularly directed her way.

Normally, she lapped that up like the fatherless girl she’d become last October. Today, she didn’t like knowing that he could easily tell that something was very wrong. “Yeah, all good. Just reeling about Juan, like everyone is.”

“I’m sick over it,” Vernon said. “He did the right thing—the patriotic thing—and paid for it with his life.”

“I know.”

Her chest burned like it would with heartburn, but this felt an awful lot like shame. The lying had already begun. What she wouldn’t give for ten minutes with Skip Holland right now.

His words of wisdom were always with her, and one thing he’d said to her at the beginning of her career echoed loudly now:If you know something that your superior officers should know, tell them. Don’t sit on any bombs, or they’ll explode under you.

Or something to that effect.

The pain in her chest intensified as they pulled into the parking lot at HQ, the two sides of the argument waging war inside of her. National security depends on your discretion. It’s in his best interest that he not know about the inner workings of an investigation involving the plot to overthrow his administration. Don’t sit on any bombs, or they’ll explode under you.

In all the months since he’d passed, Skip’s voice had never been louder than it was right now.

Outside the morgue entrance, Vernon held the car door for her. “Anything I can do?”

“No, but thanks for asking.”

“Let me know if your answer changes.”

“I will.”

It was as if he knew, Sam thought, as she went inside, stopping at the morgue where Lindsey was performing the autopsy on the body that was not Juan Rodriguez.

“Just the woman I wanted to see. His prints aren’t in the system, so I need a formal identification from someone who knew him. Then I can wrap this up.”

“What was the cause of death?”

“Blunt force trauma. Every rib was broken, along with several vertebrae in his back and neck. He also suffered a severe head injury, which was the ultimate cause of death. Whatever happened to him was violent.” Lindsey looked up atSam, who’d hung back, wishing she were anywhere but in the middle of this mess. “Can you take a look?”

“Sure.” Sam swallowed the bile stinging her throat and stepped up for a closer look at the man who she could now see was not Juan Rodriguez, as another piece of the puzzle clicked into place. They’d rushed to waylay her before she could take a closer look at him under the bright lights of the morgue and say,No, that’s not him after all. Despite the name tag on his chest and the identification in his wallet when he was found, that’s not Juan Rodriguez.

“Sam?”

A part of her died inside as she said, “That’s Lieutenant Commander Juan Rodriguez.”

“Are you okay?”

She shook her head. “Nick loved him. He’s distraught.”

“I’m so sorry. Are you handing the investigation off to Gonzo or Cruz?”

“To Gonzo.”

“What can I do for you?”

“Just the report when you have it.” The rest she’d have to handle herself. Somehow.

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