LITMIR.BIZ

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as he tortured her. Sam’s chest felt tight with growing anxiety, and she couldn’t stay seated on the sofa. She got up to pace the length of the room, examining it more thoroughly.

      The walls were made of reinforced concrete and the only way in or out, that she could see, was through the secure door they’d used to enter the space. When she felt herself beginning to hyperventilate, she focused on breathing in a steady rhythm that helped to keep the panic at bay.

      A low hum and a clicking noise preceded the door sliding open again.

      Sam’s mouth fell open in shock when her sister Tracy was escorted in. She wore a black cape over her clothing, and her hair was full of foil packets.

      “Oh my God, Sam! What the hell is this? They took me right out of the chair at the salon!”

      “I wish I knew. I was grabbed from a crime scene.”

      “I was on deck at camp,” Scotty said. “I missed my chance to bat.”

      “So they haven’t told you anything?” Tracy asked.

      “Nothing other than Nick isn’t dead.”

      “You really thought he was?” Scotty asked.

      Sam put her arm around him. “I didn’t know what to think when they showed up at a crime scene. I asked them straight-out if he was dead, and they said he isn’t.”

      “Jesus,” Tracy muttered. “How long are they going to hold us here?”

      “I have no idea. They said I’ll be briefed shortly. That’s all I know.”

      A low hum and then a click had them turning toward the door as it opened to admit Sam’s other sister, Angela, her two young children, Jack and Ella, and Alex, the infant son of Sam’s colleague Sergeant Tommy “Gonzo” Gonzales. Angela babysat Alex.

      Ella and Alex were crying as Angela and one of the harried-looking agents carried them into the room.

      “Where are we?” Angela asked. “What’s happening?”

      “No one knows,” Tracy answered as she scooped up her shell-shocked nephew Jack.

      Jack wrinkled his nose. “You stink, Auntie.”

      “That’s because my hair is now officially overprocessed, buddy, and it’ll probably be purple after all this.”

      “Cool purple hair.”

      “Glad you think so,” Tracy said. “Do you suppose they’re rounding up my family too?”

      Her question was answered by the hum and click of the door opening again to admit her daughter, Brooke, who was dressed in the uniform of the restaurant where she waitressed. Two agents had her by the arms as Brooke fought them every step of the way. When she saw her mother and aunts in the room, she stopped struggling and burst into tears.

      Tracy handed Jack to Sam and went to hug her daughter. “Easy, honey. It’s okay. We’re right here.”

      “I was s-so scared,” Brooke said between sobs. “I didn’t know why they were taking me. I thought it was happening again.”

      Sam wanted to kill someone for putting Brooke through such an ordeal when she was only beginning to truly recover from being drugged and gang-raped at a party last winter. Whoever ordered this operation would live to regret it by the time Sam was finished with them.

      Over the next half hour, the door opened repeatedly as the rest of the family arrived. Sam’s dad, Skip, used his one working index finger to roll his wheelchair into the room with his wife, Celia, by his side. Tracy’s husband, Mike, and their younger children, Abby and Ethan. Nick’s father, Leo, his wife, Stacy, and their six-year-old twin boys. The last to arrive were Nick’s adopted parents, retired Senator Graham O’Connor and his wife, Laine, both of whom were rattled and undone by the ordeal.

      The agents produced toys and games for the kids, who went to check out the offerings while the adults speculated as to what might’ve happened to result in them being plucked out of their lives and brought to this underground bunker.

      “Whatever it is,” Skip said, “it must be huge to warrant something like this.”

      Her father’s comment didn’t help to calm Sam’s out-of-control nerves. The only person missing from this family reunion was the one she most needed to see, to touch, to ensure he was okay. Until she knew for certain that he hadn’t been harmed, she wouldn’t be able to function normally.

      The lack of information was the worst part. They were completely sealed off from the outside world with no earthly idea what had prompted the Secret Service to gather up people who weren’t even under their protection.

      Tracy came over to Sam, who stood by herself, trying to think it through as a detective and coming up empty.

      “Are you okay?” Tracy asked. At some point she’d removed the foils from her hair, which was sticking up at awkward angles that would’ve made Sam laugh under normal circumstances.

      “I’m freaking out and have a million questions. Where’s Nick? Is he okay? Why won’t they tell me anything? Who ordered that everyone be brought here? What is this place?”

      “I know it’s hard not to go to the worst-case scenario, but if something had happened to him, surely it would’ve made the news before the dragnet swooped in, right?”

      “I suppose, but who knows for sure with him in freaking Iran? Well, they know, but they’re not telling me anything!” She intentionally raised her voice so the agents huddled together at the far end of the huge room would hear her. Not that they gave a shit. In a quieter tone, she said, “I’m losing my mind, Trace.”

      Tracy put her arm around Sam and led her to one of the sofas, where they sat together, Sam leaning her head on her older sister’s shoulder the way she had all her life when she needed comfort. Tracy was always there for her, and now was no different.

      With baby Ella in her arms, Angela joined them, sitting on the other side of Sam. “I hope they thought to get diapers, because they didn’t give me time to get anything, and this little girl is going to need a change before too much longer.”

      “What did they say when they came to your house?” Sam asked.

      “Just that they were with the Secret Service, that there was a ‘situation’ and the children and I needed to come with them.”

      “A situation,” Sam said. “That’s more info than I’ve been given.”

      “What about Spencer?” Angela asked about her husband. “He’s in Philadelphia today for work.”

      “I’m sure they’re aware of his whereabouts, but I’ll ask when I get the chance,” Sam said.

      “I’m worried about Gonzo and Christina not being able to reach me when they want to pick up Alex,” Angela said. “Someone needs to tell them what’s going on.”

      “Someone needs to tell us what’s going on.” She stood and marched over to the group of agents. “I want to be briefed. Right now.”

      “Yes, ma’am,” Cooley said, surprising her with his easy capitulation. “Right this way.”

      Sam took a tentative look over her shoulder, caught Tracy’s eye and nodded toward Scotty, asking her sister to keep an eye on her son. He’d been unusually quiet as they waited to find out what was happening.

      Tracy nodded in understanding and slipped an arm around Scotty’s shoulders.

      The last thing Sam saw before she entered an adjoining room with the agents was Scotty smiling at whatever Tracy had said to him.

      Sam’s stomach knotted in fear, and her hands were suddenly sweaty. What would they tell her, and how would it change her life? Please...whatever it is, please let Nick be okay. Sam could handle anything they had to say as long as her beloved husband hadn’t been harmed.

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