Thankful to have him in her corner, she ended that call and put through another to her partner, Detective Freddie Cruz.
“You looked good on TV,” he said when he picked up.
“I always look good.”
She could “hear” his eyes rolling through the phone. “Whatever you say, rock star. What’s up?”
“We need to take a trip to Spring Valley.”
“What’s way the hell up there?”
“The guy who leaked the photos of Nick at the twins’ birthday party.”
“Oh snap, a revenge mission. I’m always up for that, even if it means a trip to the outer reaches of Northwest.”
Sam gave him the address. “Meet me there?”
“On my way.”
Chapter Two
As Sam sat outside the Thorns’ mansion—there was no other word for the massive contemporary home—and waited for Freddie, she thought about the differences between rich people and everyone else. Rich people needed huge houses with doorbells that sounded like air-raid sirens. At what point did things get so good for a person that they needed a doorbell that would scare the shit out of them every time someone rang it? Although, those doorbells probably got used only when the cops came to visit.
That thought made Sam laugh to herself. By some people’s standards, she was probably rich now. Nick had told her his salary as president would be four hundred thousand dollars, which was a king’s ransom to her as a public servant. After his presidency, he’d command millions in fees to speak and write books and generally be his awesome self. But one thing Sam knew for sure was no matter how much money her sugar daddy brought home, she’d never live in a mansion with an air-raid-siren doorbell.
She was still cracking up at the direction her thoughts had taken when Freddie knocked on her window.
Sam got out of the car.
“What’s so funny?”
“If I told you, you’d have me committed.”
“I’m already building a detailed case, so be careful what you tell me.”
“Good to know.”
“What’s the deal with the leaker?”
“His name is Bryson Thorn. His son Sebastian is in class with the twins.”
“Bryson and Sebastian Thorn. They sound like romance novel names.”
Sam chuckled. “Yeah, I guess they do. You wanna bet what kind of doorbell this place has?”
“I’m sure it’ll be one that sends you into fits.”
“Let’s find out, shall we?”
“I’m with you, LT, and P.S., you’re freaking me out with the uniform.”
“It’s freaking me out, too, especially since it doesn’t fit like it did at my dad’s funeral. I’ve been stress eating.”
“You’re allowed.”
“Not if my uniform doesn’t fit!”
“You’ll get back on track.”
Sam went through the wrought-iron gate ahead of him. “My poor, delusional Freddie. That’s not how it works for women. Once the fat arrives, it never, ever, ever goes away. Like, ever.”
“That is not true.”
“Yes, it is! Ask any woman. A nuclear bomb can’t get rid of fat once it’s gotten comfy on an ass or hips or arms or thighs or stomach. Fat loves the stomach.”
He cringed. “Whatever you say.”
Sam positioned her hand over the huge doorbell button. The bigger the button, the louder the commotion. “Ready for this?”
“Bring it.”
Sam pushed the button and stood back to listen to what could only be called a symphony orchestra of sounds. “Are you kidding me right now?”
“You might need to press it again so I can fully experience it a second time.”
Sam pushed the button.
“Wow, that’s got to be the craziest one we’ve ever heard.”
“Takes the gold medal for crazy doorbells. I couldn’t deal with it.” She peeked through the beveled glass on the side of the door and saw a man coming to the door wearing headphones and a scowl on his face. Sam remembered him from the party. He’d checked out their home like a Realtor hosting an open house. When he saw cops on his front stairs, he recoiled as he opened the door.
“Mr. Thorn?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m Lieutenant Holland, and this is my partner, Detective Cruz. We met when you and your son came to a birthday party at my house.” Tall with dark hair and wearing a wrinkled Oxford shirt, he reminded her of the actor Vince Vaughn.
“I remember.”
“You got a second?”
“I’m, ah, kind of busy working,” he said, seeming suddenly flustered.
“This’ll only take a minute.”
“Uh, sure.” He stepped aside to allow them to enter the house.
The foyer ceiling was easily thirty feet tall. Sam wondered if all the heat ended up at the top, but she wasn’t there to ask that question. “How’s Sebastian doing?”
Taken aback by the question, he said, “He’s fine. He’s at school.”
“Alden and Aubrey enjoyed having him at their party.”
“Oh, well, that’s good. He had fun. It’s nice of you to step up for them. What happened to their parents was horrific.”
“Indeed it was, which was why we wanted them to have a great party. They’d been through so much, losing their parents shortly before their birthday.” Sam made a clucking sound as she shook her head. “Poor babies.”
“They’re sweet kids. The parents were nice people.”
“Yes, they are and were, which is why I wonder why someone would want to harm the people who are caring for them after their terrible loss.”
His brows came together in an expression of confusion. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Don’t you?” Sam unleashed her unblinking stare on him. As a kid, no one had been able to beat her in a staring contest. That skill had come in handy many times on the job, and now was no exception.
Thorn blinked first. “I, ah, have to get back to work.”
“I know you’re the one who leaked the photos of my husband at the party.”
“What? I didn’t do that!”
“Yes, you did. I have several witnesses willing to testify that it was you, not to mention my IT people are tracing the IP address as we speak.”
He sputtered with outrage. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do. I figured I’d stop by to let you know my husband and I intend to fully enforce the legal terms of the NDA you signed when the Secret Service vetted you ahead of the party. You’ll be hearing from our attorneys. I hope the stock market is good to you, because we plan to sue your pants off.”
“You can’t just come into someone’s home and start accusing them of things.”
“Detective Cruz, can I do that?”
“Yes, ma’am. That’s actually a big part of our jobs. We visit people’s homes and accuse them of things almost every day.”
Sam loved him and the way he rolled with her so, so much.
“Here’s the deal, Mr. Thorn. By uploading those photos, you violated the airtight NDA you signed before you entered my home. My husband and I will be filing suit against you imminently, and we plan to make it a doozy.” She looked around him into one of those formal living rooms no one actually used—except when cops came to call. “Detective Cruz, how do you think my sofa is going to look in that living room? Nick and I will need a bigger place after we leave the White House. This would do, don’t you think?”