Page 28 of State of Alert

Dreadful.

“Sam?”

She realized he’d been talking to her while she spaced out. “Sorry. What did you say?”

“Will you go to Juan’s funeral?”

“I suppose so. Nick will want to be there.” Dear God, would they have to go through the motions of a funeral for a man who wasn’t dead? Sam had no clue how to manage this situation, and that was saying something. She almost always knew what to do. But this was truly unprecedented.

Her entire body vibrated with tension that she felt from her scalp to the bottoms of her feet. The tightness in her shoulders and chest was almost painful.

Matt O’Brien came back into the room. “We’ve got the warrants.”

Relieved to have something to do other than freak out about lying to everyone in her life, she said, “Let’s get going.”

Juan livedin a townhome in Adams Morgan, a trendy Northwest neighborhood known for history, culture, nightlife, entertainment and the arts. If Sam had been a single girl interested in living anywhere but Capitol Hill, she would’ve chosen Adams Morgan. Juan’s building had the standard DC red-brick façade with black shutters and brass detailing. Shepushed the button next to the label that saidRodriguez/Erickson.

A few seconds later, a voice on the intercom said, “Yes?”

“This is Lieutenant Sam Holland with the Metro PD. We’d like to speak to Lieutenant Commander Erickson, please.”

After a long pause, there was a beep followed by a lock disengaging on the front door.

They stepped into a foyer with a coatrack and hooks for backpacks and other bags. Several pairs of running shoes were on the floor under the hanging bags.

“Come on up.”

Sam and Freddie climbed the stairs to where a young man with light brown hair and swollen blue eyes waited for them. He wore a grayNAVYT-shirt and athletic shorts. “Are you Isaac Erickson?”

He nodded.

“I’m Lieutenant Holland. This is my partner, Detective Cruz. We’re very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you. I still can’t believe it.”

“Could we talk for a few minutes?”

“Sure, whatever I can do.” Isaac led them into an open space with more brick and industrial ducting running across the ceiling. He took a seat on a sofa where he’d obviously been hunkered down. Takeout containers littered the coffee table along with soda cans and beer bottles. “Sorry for the mess. It’s been a rough week.”

Sam and Freddie sat across from him in leather chairs.

“No worries,” she said.

“I still can’t believe Juan is dead. It’s surreal. He was just here.”

“When did you last see him?”

“What day is today?”

“Sunday.” Was it still the same day that they’d closed Tom Forrester’s murder case with a high-profile arrest? Twelve hours later, Sam was running on fumes, and her knees andelbows hurt from tackling Harlan Peckham on a city street. She’d have bruises tomorrow, if she didn’t already.

“I saw him when I got home from work on Wednesday. He was on his way out as I was getting home. He said he’d see me in the morning, but when I got up, he wasn’t here. I hit him up but didn’t hear back. Honestly, I didn’t think much of it until I got to work and found out he’d missed muster for his morning rotation at the White House. That was when I started to get worried.” His gaze shifted toward them. “Juan loved working with your husband.” His voice took on a gruff, emotional tone. “He fucking loved that guy.” He wiped tears off his face. “Sorry for the f-bomb.”

“No need to apologize. Nick loved him, too. He’s devastated by Juan’s death.” The guilt cut deep over what Juan’s loved ones were being put through for the cause of national security. Sam hoped it would be worth it in the end. The tension inside her was similar to how she’d felt being wrapped in razor wire by Stahl and threatened with fire, a memory she certainly didn’t welcome.

“Anyway, work sounded the alarm that he was missing. NCIS quickly got involved and interviewed me and everyone who interacted with Juan daily and started to search for him.” With his arms propped on his legs, he held his face in his hands. “The whole thing is surreal.”

“How long have you known Juan?” Sam asked.

---