Page 22 of State of Grace (First Family 2)

So she waited.

Chapter Five

Ten long minutes later, she drove out of the White House gates and headed for the southeastern quadrant of the city with two agents trailing her in a black SUV. The detail was a small price to pay to keep from adding to Nick’s already considerable stress level. He’d told her he couldn’t and wouldn’t be president unless she agreed to a minimal detail when she was on the job.

Vernon and Jimmy were the agents who trailed her during the regular workday. She had no idea who was in the car behind her now and didn’t need to know. They had their job to do, and she had hers. With traffic light that time of day, she arrived at the crime scene fifteen minutes after she left the White House and thirty minutes after receiving the phone call from Dispatch. That was thirty minutes too long, but sadly, her victim wasn’t going anywhere until she arrived.

After double-parking a block away, she approached the yellow crime scene tape and flashed her badge to the Patrol officer who’d been put in charge of keeping people away from the Honda minivan that housed their victim.

He raised the tape to allow Sam to duck underneath it.

“Thank you. What’ve we got?”

“I’m Officer Smyth, and this is my partner, Officer Linton.” Smyth, who was tall, Black and muscular, was the older of the two. Linton was a dark-haired woman with brown eyes and a curvy body.

“An honor to meet you, ma’am,” Linton said while Smyth tried not to roll his eyes.

“Give me the gist,” Sam said.

“From what the neighbors tell us,” Linton said, “the Honda Odyssey van was parked here several days ago, and it’s received some parking tickets. Earlier today, one of the neighbors noticed a smell coming from the vehicle, and when she looked inside, she saw a foot sticking out from under a blanket.”

Sam wanted to gag at the thought of what a dead body enclosed inside a car for several days would smell like. “I assume the car is locked?”

“It is,” Smyth said. “We took the liberty of calling a locksmith. He’ll be here any minute.”

“Good thinking,” Sam said, appreciative of anyone who saved her time on the job. She peered in the window, saw the same foot the neighbors had seen and wondered why the cops who’d ticketed the car—repeatedly—hadn’t bothered to look inside. At the front of the car, she retrieved the tickets and tucked them into her coat pocket for further investigation later. “Did you call in the plate?”

“We did,” Linton said. “It’s registered to a Robert Tappen of M Street Northeast in Brentwood.”

“Has it been reported stolen or missing?”

“We’ve had no reports involving this vehicle,” Smyth said.

“Appreciate the good work,” Sam said. “You were very thorough. I’d like to speak to the neighbor who called it in.”

“Right this way, Lieutenant.” Linton led Sam to a woman sitting on stairs. “This is Marcie Crossman. She lives here and had noticed the van parked here for a few days before she decided to look inside. Mrs. Crossman, this is Lieutenant Holland.”

“The first lady,” Marcie said with a small smile. “I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but…” She gestured to the car. “I couldn’t believe what I was seeing when I saw the foot.”

“How long has the van been parked there?” Sam asked, making a note of the woman’s name in the notebook she carried with her.

“A couple of days. I can’t say for sure when it first showed up.”

“That helps. Is there anything else you can tell me about it?”

“Only that it started to smell today, which is when I looked inside.”

“Do you know anyone by the name of Tappen?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Will you please write down your name and number for me, just in case I have follow-up questions?”

Marcie took the pad from Sam, wrote down the information and handed it back to her.

“Thank you for your help and for calling it in.”

“I hope you figure out who’s in there and what happened to them.”

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