hated the way the agents insisted on calling her ma’am, as if she were seventy years old or something, but she’d chosen not to fight that battle. She wanted to say, if you can call me ma’am why can’t you call me Sam? Close enough, wasn’t it? But Nick had asked her not to make an issue of it, so she didn’t. But she wanted to.
“Have a seat.” She directed Josh to the sofa while she tossed her coat over the back of it. “I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.”
Sam dashed upstairs to their bedroom, anxious to see what was wrong with Nick, who’d been fine earlier. She found him in bed, curled into the fetal position, and was instantly concerned. Leaning over the bed, she pressed a kiss to his forehead, which was on fire. “Babe.”
“Mmm.”
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Don’t know. Was fine and then I wasn’t.”
“You’re burning up. Did you take something?”
“Couldn’t. Stomach.”
“I’m calling Harry.”
“No, I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine, and I’m calling Harry.”
He mumbled something that sounded like “don’t bother him,” but to hell with that. She was bothering him. Withdrawing her cell phone from her pocket, she found the number for one of their closest friends, who happened to be a doctor, and made the call.
“Madame Vice President,” Harry said. “To what do I owe the honor?”
“Nick is sick. Can you come over?”
“Sick with what?”
“I don’t know. He said it came on out of nowhere, and now he’s burning up and says his stomach hurts too bad to take anything.”
“Sounds like the flu. Keep your distance.”
“Way too late for that warning.” Sam winced when she thought of the sex they’d had last night and again this morning. Not getting too close to her husband was usually the last thing she wanted to do.
“Figures with you two,” Harry said with a huff of laughter. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Can you clear me through security?”
“Yeah, I’ll let them know.”
“Try not to worry. He’s an ox. He’ll be fine.”
Sam usually took Harry’s assurances to heart, but she was worried. She’d never seen Nick this way and had no idea what to do to make him feel better. She hated feeling powerless. Then she remembered Josh was downstairs waiting for her to figure out what to do about his suspicions.
So much for a nice, peaceful few days “off.”
Sam ran her fingers through Nick’s hair, which was sweaty from the fever. “Babe, I have to go downstairs and take care of something. I’ll be right back up, okay?”
He had gone back to sleep and didn’t respond.
Sam bent over to kiss his cheek, trying not to notice that he already felt hotter than he had a few minutes ago. She ran back downstairs to where Josh was waiting right where she’d left him. His leg bounced as he bit his nails.
“Sorry about that.”
“No problem.”
Their assistant, Shelby Faircloth, came into the room from the kitchen, carrying a cup of tea and holding her iPad under her arm.
“Hey, Sam, what’re you doing home? And why is Nick here?”
“He’s sick, and I’m off for four days,” she said with a meaningful glance.
“Ahh, gotcha.” Shelby knew Sam was due to hear the results of the IAB hearing today.
“Could I borrow your iPad for a minute?” Sam asked. “Oh, and this is Josh. I’m helping him out with something. Josh, Shelby, our assistant.”
“Nice to meet you, Josh.” Shelby punched in her code and handed the iPad to Sam. “What’s going on?”
Without telling Shelby about Josh’s connection to Director Hamilton, Sam told her about the photo Josh had found on the Internet.
“Oh my,” Shelby said, dropping into a chair.
Sam gave the iPad to Josh. “Show me the site where you found the photo.”
He did some typing and poking at the screen until he landed on the site. “Here.”
Sam took it from him and scanned the text that accompanied the photo. A newborn male by the name of Taylor Rollings had gone missing from a maternity ward in Franklin, Tennessee, located twenty miles outside of Nashville in Williamson County. According to the article, the baby’s kidnapping had been the lead story for weeks in the Williamson Herald and had been picked up by papers and TV news channels around the state.
His parents—Chauncey, a farmer, and Micki, a homemaker—were now in their sixties but had never given up hope of finding their missing son.
“He was taken right out of his bassinet while I was sleeping,” Micki said in the article, “and we’ve never seen him again.” The reporter noted that Micki still weeps when she speaks of the son who disappeared on a cold winter night three decades ago. “I’ll never stop looking for him. As long as I have a breath left in me, I’ll look for him.”
Touched by Micki’s sorrow, Sam skimmed the rest of the article, planning to read everything she could find on the case later. “If you really think you’re the missing son of this family, we could reach out to local law enforcement in Williamson County.”
“What would happen then?”
“They’d probably request DNA and run it against Mr. Rollings to see if it’s a match. That might be a good place to start.”
“But what if it doesn’t match? They’ve been through so much. I’d hate to get their hopes up.”
“That’s a very real concern and one you’ll need to weigh carefully if you’re determined to go through with this.”
“What would you do?”
Sam tried to put herself in his place. “I’d want to know, but that’s my nature. I always want to know everything. I guess that’s why I’m good at my job. I’m not satisfied until I know the truth.”
“I don’t know what to do. You saw what they said about Taylor’s mom, how she still cries when she talks about him thirty years later. What it if turns out not to be true, and I get their hopes up?”
“What if it turns out to be true? What if you’re their missing son? Think about the peace and comfort you could bring them.”
He dropped his head into his
