He escorted her to his car and held the passenger door for her, closing it when she was settled. As he walked around the front of the car, she thought about her own car and wanted to ask if it would be okay in the lot overnight, but that would take energy she couldn't muster at the moment.

Determined to stay awake until she got home and could fall face-first on her bed, Sam tipped her head back against the cushioned headrest. That was a mistake, because the next thing she knew, Hill was opening the car door and acting like he was going to lift her out of the passenger seat.

"Hands off," she said, smacking at him. "I can walk."

"Fine."

"Yes, I am fine. Thanks for the ride."

"Do you want me to pick you up in the morning?"

"No, I do not want you to pick me up in the morning. Go away. You were supposed to go away."

"I'm sorry if my promotion has inconvenienced you."

"It has inconvenienced me, now get the hell out of here before my husband comes home and thinks you're moving in on his territory-again."

"Honestly, Sam, we're all adults here. I'm not moving in on anything."

"Try telling him that." Sam told herself to stop talking, to walk away and into the house before she could make an uncomfortable situation worse than it already was.

The front door to her house opened, and Shelby came out wearing one of her litany of pink tracksuits and sparkly pink running shoes. She came down the ramp to the sidewalk.

"Agent Hill," she said, smiling brightly. "Nice to see you again."

"You too."

"Are you okay, Sam?" Shelby asked, taking a close look at her.

"I will be when I get some sleep. Later." Sam dragged herself up the ramp and into the house, leaving the door propped open for Shelby. She trudged upstairs and headed for the shower.

Before she hit the sack, she called Nick, anxious to hear how his talk with Scotty had gone.

"Hey, babe. We're on our way home. Where are you?"

"Home with about two minutes of consciousness left in me. How's the boy?"

"He's been better, but we had a good talk. Not that anything I say can make sense of it for him."

"I'm sure you were great with him. My dad wanted to see him. Would you mind dropping by there when you get home?"

"Sure, no problem. You wouldn't believe what else we talked about."

"What?"

"I'll save that for when you're wide-awake," he said with a laugh, letting her know it was nothing serious.

"I'll look forward to hearing all about it. Tell him I'm sorry I won't see him tonight. I can't stay awake."

"That's okay. Go to sleep. Love you, babe."

"Mmm, me too." With her final bit of energy, she put her phone on the bedside charger and turned on the TV to check what was being said about Vasquez. She forced her eyes to open when she realized that Farnsworth was about to begin a press conference she'd figured was long over by now. They must've been delayed by something.

Cameras captured Chief Farnsworth, looking pale and exhausted, as he walked to the courtyard located outside the main doors at HQ. The local media had gathered, waiting like hungry dogs on the scent of a meaty bone. Every time she went anywhere near them, Sam's hackles went up as if she were an angry dog. Angry dog versus hungry dog was never a good combination. What a relief it was to not have to deal with them this time.

The chief stepped up to the podium. "At zero eight thirty this morning, a body was found in the area of the National Air and Space Museum at Independence and Seventh Avenues. It has been determined that the victim, a Hispanic male in his late twenties, had been stabbed once in the chest. The victim has been identified as Willie Vasquez."

He paused for the collective gasp that went through the crowd.

They immediately erupted, shouting questions at the chief.

Sam knew from experience that he couldn't understand any of them over the roar of voices.

He held up his hands to quiet them. "As you can probably imagine, we've got a very big job ahead of us to determine where Mr. Vasquez was killed and by whom. We've got an entire city enraged with Mr. Vasquez over an error in a baseball game. Our goal will be to quickly bring the killer to justice while keeping the city from erupting into violence again. I'll take a couple of questions."

"Do you know yet when he was killed?" Darren Tabor from the Washington Star asked.

"Not yet. Dr. McNamara and her team are working to establish time of death as we speak."

"Can you say more about where he was found?" another reporter asked.

"Not at this time."

"Has the team been notified?"

"Yes."

"How many arrests were made overnight?"

"The latest number I heard was more than three hundred. We've filed numerous charges, ranging from arson to vandalism to malicious mischief. Our Special Response Team, along with every member of the MPD, our colleagues with the FBI and the National Guard helped to contain the violence before it got further out of hand."

He paused and seemed to be considering his words carefully. "I want to add that in addition to the sorrow we all feel over Mr. Vasquez's untimely death, I find it totally appalling that supposed fans of our hometown baseball team reacted to the team's unfortunate loss with violence. It would be my hope that in the future our citizens might consider the health and safety of their city before they take to the streets to vent their frustrations about a game. That's all."

"Well stated, sir," Sam whispered as she turned off the TV and reached for her phone to give Carlucci and Dominguez their marching orders. She got Gigi on her cell phone. "Listen up," Sam said, her eyes closed as she told them about the video surveillance and what they were looking for. It would make for a long, boring shift for the detectives, but it needed to be done. "Make sure patrol continues to look for the blood and the car."

"We'll take care of it, LT."

"Thanks." She ended the call and dropped into the abyss.

Chapter Seven.

"Is Sam okay?" Shelby asked oh-so-hot Avery Hill, who'd watched Sam walk away with an odd expression on his face.

"She will be when she gets some sleep. She was getting kind of loopy, so I drove her home."

"That was good of you. So how've you been?"

"Good. Fine. You?"

"Great. Loving the new job."

"And how's your other 'project' going?"

Shelby frowned at the reminder of their earlier conversation when he'd come to interview her fertility doctor in an investigation and discovered that she was trying to have a baby. "Nothing to report, unfortunately."

"Sorry to hear that."

She shrugged. "It'll happen if it's meant to." She couldn't think about the alternative. One way or the other, she was going to be a mother. Having Scotty around had gone a long way toward easing the craving, but she had to remind herself every day that he wasn't hers. "Sam said you might want to get together for coffee sometime."

"Um, sure, if you'd like to."

"I thought you were supposed to be moving."

"That was the plan, but the director had something else in mind for me that will keep me in town."

"I'm glad you'll be sticking around."

"Oh. Well, I ought to get back to work."

"Thanks for bringing Sam home."

"It was no problem."

Shelby faced a rare bout of indecision. Should she push him to commit to the date or let him leave and try again the next time? He was so good-looking. Dreamy. Those eyes, that hair, that accent... She wanted to jump all over him, a thought that nearly made her giggle.

"Well, I'll be seeing you," he said.

"Don't you want my number?" she asked, the words falling from her lips before she could decide whether it was a good idea to be any more forward than she'd already been with him.

His face became expressionless as he studied her for long enough that she nearly squirmed. "Sure," he finally said. "That'd be good."

"You thought about it long enough."

"It's not you-"

Shelby couldn't help but laugh. "You're supposed to say that after we go out. Not before."

That drew a small smile from him that did wonders for his stern countenance. "I'll have to remember that."

She withdrew her phone and clicked on the text function. "What's your number? I'll send you mine."

He recited his number.

"Got it. Next move is yours, Agent Hill."

"I appreciate your candid explanation of the rules."

"At my advanced age, I find myself rather tired of the gamesmanship involved with dating. I far prefer candor."

"It is rather refreshing."

Shelby smiled and was in the midst of forming another witty comment when Nick's Secret Service detail came around the corner on to Ninth Street and pulled up to the curb in two big black SUVs.

Avery stood beside her to watch the proceedings as the agents escorted Nick and Scotty from the first of the two cars.

Nick took one look at Avery and his normally genial expression hardened with displeasure.

What was that about? Shelby wondered as Nick and Scotty approached them.

"What're you doing here, Hill?" Nick asked.

"Senator, nice to see you too. I gave your wife a ride home."

"Why did she need a ride?"

"She was dead on her feet. I didn't think it would be safe for her to drive."

Nick eyed the other man warily. "Is that right?"

Avery's lips tightened with displeasure, and Shelby could tell there was something he was dying to say but refrained.

"How was the Capitol, buddy?" Shelby asked Scotty, hoping to ease the tension.

"It was cool. We had ice cream in the Senate Dining Room."

"Wow, that sounds like fun."

"I've got to get back to work," Avery said. "I'll see you."

"Hill?" Nick called after the agent.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for giving Sam a ride."

"No problem."

After Avery got into his car and took off, Shelby glanced at Nick. "What was that all about?"

"I don't like that guy."