She picked up the phone and dialed an extension. "Scott Cappuano's mother is here to pick him up."

Scott Cappuano's mother is here.

Her knees nearly buckled from the emotional wallop that accompanied five perfectly innocuous words that meant the world to her. When tears threatened, Sam turned away from the reception desk, fighting for composure. Her heart felt like someone was squeezing it. And then Scotty came into the office, dragging his backpack behind him, and nothing in the world mattered but whatever he needed. His Secret Service agents followed at a respectful distance.

"Hey, buddy," she said, reaching for him and starting for the door.

"You have to sign him out, Mrs. Cappuano," the receptionist said, pointing to a binder on the counter.

"Oh, right." Sam released Scotty, signed where directed and guided him from the office. Outside, she took a couple of deep breaths to regain her composure. Who knew that picking your kid up from school could be so fraught with emotion? She kept an arm around him. "What's going on?"

"Nothing."

The one-word answer was so out of character that Sam stopped walking and turned to face him. She was shocked to see his brown eyes brimming with tears. She rested her hands on his shoulders and bent to look him square in the eye. "What's wrong?"

He glanced at the school. "Not here."

Suddenly filled with anxiety, she said, "Come on." With a wary glance at the agents who followed them from the school, she shepherded him into her car and went around to the driver's side. She had him settled before they could insist on driving him home. "What happened?"

"Some kids were saying that Willie was a loser for not catching the ball. They said he deserved what happened to him."

"Oh, man." She could already see where this was going. "What did you say to that?"

"I told them he made a mistake, and no one deserves to die for that."

"That's right."

"They didn't agree with me. This one kid... Nathan Cleary..."

"What?"

"He punched me in the stomach."

"What? Are you kidding me? I'm going back in there to have a conversation with the principal." Not to mention the words she planned to have with his detail. What the hell were they doing letting another kid hit him?

Scotty grabbed her arm to stop her from getting out of the car. "No, Sam. No. You can't do that."

"What do you mean I can't do it? You were assaulted in school. You bet I can make a stink about that."

"If you do, the other kids will hate me. He's popular, and I'm still new. You can't make a stink. You can't."

Sam wasn't used to being told she couldn't do something, especially when it came to protecting her loved ones.

"Please?"

The single word, uttered in a small voice that was so not him, did her in. "Okay, fine, but if he hits you again, I'm getting involved."

"He caught me by surprise this time. If he hits me again, I'll hit him back."

"Yes, you will, and if they suspend you for that, we'll get ice cream and celebrate your first suspension."

That drew a hint of a smile from him.

"So you're not really sick."

He shook his head. "My stomach kinda hurts from being punched."

Alarmed, Sam said, "Should I take you to see Dr. Harry?"

"No," he said, full of preteen disdain.

Another thought occurred to her, one that she hoped would cheer him up. "Wanna come to work with me this afternoon?"

His eyes got very big. "Could I help figure out what happened to Willie?"

She started the car. "Absolutely. I could use all the help I can get, pal."

"So you're not mad that I pretended to be sick so you'd come get me?"

"I'm not mad because you were upset. But I don't want you doing that when you're bored. Got me?"

"Yeah, I got ya. I just couldn't stay there after what happened."

"I hope that bully Nathan is sweating his balls off worrying that he's going to get in big trouble when your badass cop mother finds out what he did."

Scotty snorted with laughter that warmed her heart. "That's two swearwords in one sentence."

"Balls is not a swear word."

"It's vulgar. Mrs. Littlefield said so."

His former guardian had instilled some rather rigid values into the kid. Living up to them was proving to be a challenge for Sam. "If Mrs. Littlefield says so it must be true, but in my book, body parts aren't vulgar."

They debated the vulgarity of various body parts all the way to HQ, laughing most of the ride. His detail followed behind in one of their signature black SUVs. Sam pulled into the parking lot and took her usual spot. "Stay here for a second, buddy. I'll be right back."

"Okay."

Sam got out of the car and walked over to the SUV, rapping on the window with her knuckles.

The window was lowered, revealing a female agent at the wheel and a male agent in the passenger seat. Sam couldn't remember their names, but their faces were familiar.

"Let me ask you something," she said.

"Of course, Lieutenant," the female said.

"How's it possible that my son manages to get punched in the stomach when he has two federal agents watching his every move?"

"We've been trying to keep our distance so he's able to have somewhat of a normal experience," the male said. "The incident with the other kid escalated very quickly. We regret that it happened and that we weren't close enough to stop it."

Sam could tell by his expression and his tone of voice that he did regret it. They both did. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to jump all over you, but I need to know he's safe at all times so I can function."

"We're sorry we let you down," the woman said. "It won't happen again."

"What're your names?"

They exchanged nervous glances, no doubt concerned that she was going to report them.

"I'm Toni, and he's Brice."

"Thanks for keeping an eye on Scotty, Toni and Brice. He'll be with me this afternoon. You're welcome to make yourselves comfortable in our reception area, but I can't have you in the back where we're working."

"We need to have eyes on him at all times when he's not inside your home," Brice said.

"Surely we can work something out as his mother is a police officer."

Toni shook her head, making her ponytail bob. "All times."

"Fine," Sam said with a huff of exasperation. She understood about having a job to do and how often it could be inconvenient for everyone involved. "But don't get in the way."

"We'll do our best to be unobtrusive," Brice said.

Sam was walking back to her car when Nick called. "Hey, babe."

"What's wrong with the boy?"

"A fight in school."

"What? What the hell?"

"My questions exactly." She relayed a quick synopsis of the incident at school to her husband.

"How does that happen when he has a detail?"

"Apparently, they weren't close enough to stop a situation that escalated quickly."

"But that's their job."

"I think they walk a fine line between keeping him safe and allowing him a normal school experience. Don't worry. I ripped them new ones over it."

"I'll bet you did," he said, chuckling. "So where is he now?"

"With me for the afternoon. He's going to help me figure out who killed Willie."

"Do you have time for that?"

"Of course I do. He's my son."

"Yes, he is."

"It was kinda weird just now."

"What was?"

"Getting a call from school that he was sick and that he'd asked for me to come get him. And then the chick at the desk calls the nurse and says 'Scott Cappuano's mother is here to pick him up.' I got a little misty over that."

"Aw, babe. That's so sweet. You're a mom now."

"Finally."

"I wish I could give you a hug."

"That'd be nice. Rain check?"

"You got it. I have a thing after work, but I shouldn't be too late. I could use a hug too. This has been kind of a crappy day all the way around."

"What's wrong?" Sam asked, surprised to hear that. He was so endlessly upbeat and cheerful.

"I'll tell you when I see you. Love you. Tell my boy I love him too, and I'll beat up the kid that hit him if he wants me to."

Smiling, she said, "I already offered and was politely rebuffed."

"Maybe at the next school function you could do that thing you do with your hands on your hips with the badge and gun showing. Make sure the kid knows who he's screwing with."

"I believe I'll do just that, Senator. I like how you think."

"I feel like we should do something."

"I might give the kid's parents a call."

"That's a good idea. Make sure you say 'This is Lieutenant Holland with the Metro PD, and I'd like to talk to you about your son the bully.'"

"And some potential assault charges."

Laughing, he said, "That ought to get their attention. Hey, so maybe Scotty can come to my fundraiser tonight."

"I bet he'd love to. I could send him home with the detail to change."

"I'll pick him up around five thirty so we can go together."

"I'll tell him."

"See you after a while. Be careful with my family."

"I will. And P.S., I love you too." Sam ended the call and opened the passenger side door for Scotty. "That was Nick on the phone. He offered to beat up Nathan if you want him to."

"That might not be good for his campaign this close to the election," Scotty said dryly, already the politician's son.

They walked together toward the entrance to HQ. "Maybe not, but it sure would make him feel better. It would make both of us happy to give that kid a taste of his own medicine."