Chapter Four
They climbed the stairs to the residence where they found the kids in the kitchen under the supervision of Sam’s stepmother, Celia, who’d moved into the White House to help with the children.
After the recent loss of her husband, Skip, Celia had welcomed the distraction that came with being part of their chaotic life.
As she hugged Sam and Nick, she, too, looked as if she’d been crying.
Their fourteen-year-old son, Scotty, was subdued as he stroked Skippy’s soft fur while the twins chattered on, blissfully unaware of the tragedy that had occurred in Des Moines.
Sam hoped to keep them unaware. Her phone rang, and she stepped out of the kitchen to take the call from Archie. “Hey,” she said. “What’s up?”
“I was able to tie the IP address to the post your guy made under an anonymous account. We’ve got him.”
“That’s great, Archie. Thank you for this. Let me know what I owe you.”
“No charge. What he did was lame. He deserves whatever you have planned for him.”
“We have a massive lawsuit planned, and you’ve provided the final piece we needed.”
“I sent the info to your personal email.”
“Appreciate this, my friend.”
“Anytime. How’re you guys holding up over there? It’s just the most horrible thing.”
“It really is, and we’re taking it a minute at a time.”
“I saw Nick just now. He said all the right things.”
“It’s hard to know what the right things are during something like this.”
“He got it right. People are fed up with this shit.”
“It’s a very difficult issue, but one that needs some sensible solutions.”
“If anyone can get this done, Nick can.”
“I guess we’ll see. Thank you again for using your superpowers to help me.”
Laughing, he said, “Happy to do it. See you tomorrow.”
Sam ended that call and put through another to Andy.
“Hey,” he said. “Saw you guys on TV just now. It’s so awful.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Nick did a good job of setting the right tone.”
“I think so, too. In other news, I heard from my IT guy, and he was able to connect the dots to our friend Mr. Thorn. I’ll forward his info to you the next time I’m on a computer.”
“That’s great news. I’ve got the suit ready to be filed and served as soon as you give the green light.”
“Hang on a second.” She gestured for Nick to join her in the hallway. “Andy has what he needs to file the suit against Thorn. Just confirming you’re still on board.”
“I’m on board, but will we be crucified for the timing after the shooting?”
“We could say it was already in the works when the shooting happened, which is true.”
He thought about that for a second. “Tell Andy to go ahead, then.”
“Did you hear that?” Sam asked Andy.
“I did. We’ll take care of it tomorrow. I’ll let you know when he’s been served.”
“Thanks again, Andy.”
“Happy to help. Could I speak to Nick for a second?”
“Sure, hang on.” Sam handed her phone to Nick. “He wants to talk to you.”
Leaving Nick to speak to his friend in private, Sam went back to the kitchen and found Shelby Hill and her son, Noah, had joined the group.
Shelby had agreed to be the White House social secretary and had hired a nanny to help with Noah during work hours.
They’d set up a playroom on the third floor of the residence that Noah, Alden and Aubrey were enjoying.
“How was your day, Mrs. Hill?” Sam asked her close friend, whose face was red and puffy from crying.
“Wonderful and awful. The news of the shooting has broken my heart.”
They kept their voices down so the children wouldn’t overhear them.
“I know. Mine, too. I worry about people going numb to the violence because it’s so much a part of our everyday lives.”
“It’s unbearable. Babies going to see Santa.” Tears ran down Shelby’s cheeks that Noah adorably wiped away. “Thank you, sweet boy. Mama is sad tonight.”
“Go home and snuggle with your husband,” Sam said, hugging her friend.
“That’s the plan, but I wanted to see my other babies before I left. How cute is Scotty with that dog?”
“Adorable.” Skippy was glued to Scotty at all times, and when he wasn’t home, the dog came looking for Sam, which everyone found hilarious.
Now that Scotty had finished eating, the dog had moved to his lap.
Before long, she’d be too big for anyone’s lap, but Sam suspected that wouldn’t matter to Scotty, who was madly in love with the puppy.
Usually, this was Sam’s favorite time of the day—home with her husband and children, even if the home was new to them.
But tonight, she couldn’t escape the dark cloud of despair that hung over everything after the day’s events.
They went through the motions with the Littles, overseeing baths and pajamas and story time, all the while protecting them from the heartbreak that had seized the country.
Alden and Aubrey had already been through enough heartbreak recently. They didn’t need any more.
After the twins were settled in the bed they still shared despite having their own rooms at the White House, Sam and Nick went to check on Scotty and found him snuggled up to Skippy in his bed.
“I thought we agreed she’s not allowed in the bed,” Nick said, seemingly trying to be stern and failing miserably. They could both see how happy the dog made their son.
“I tried telling her she’s not allowed, but she keeps ending up here.”
“You’re supposed to be in charge,” Nick said.
“She has a mind of her own.”
“Typical woman,” Nick muttered with a wink and smile for his wife.
“Easy, mister,” Sam said. “Push over and let me in.”
Scotty rolled his eyes but made room for her to sit next to him, her back against his pillows.
“How’re you doing?”
He shrugged. “It’s hard to make sense of someone shooting kids who were there to see Santa.”
“Sure is,” Nick said, sighing as he stretched out across the foot of the bed.
“Why would someone do that?” Scotty asked.
“We’re fairly certain there was a mental health component, as there often is when these things happen.”
“How does someone with mental health problems end up with a gun so they can do that to so many people?”
“That’s a very good question and one the FBI and ATF will be investigating.”
“What’s the ATF?”
“The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives.”
“That’s an odd combination of things.”
Nick pulled his phone from his pocket. “Here’s what the website says.
‘ATF is a law enforcement agency in the United States’ Department of Justice that protects our communities from violent criminals, criminal organizations, the illegal use and trafficking of firearms, the illegal use and storage of explosives, acts of arson and bombings, acts of terrorism, and the illegal diversion of alcohol and tobacco products.
We partner with communities, industries, law enforcement, and public safety agencies to safeguard the public we serve through information sharing, training, research, and use of technology. ’”
“That’s interesting,” Scotty said. “So it’s their job to figure out where and how the guy got the gun, then?”
“Both them and the FBI, among other law enforcement. We’ve deployed the full resources of the federal government to assist local law enforcement as needed.”
“It’s cool that you can do that,” Scotty said.
“That’s what the government is here to do—to help people who need it. We don’t always succeed in that mission, but in cases like this, our role is pretty clear-cut.”
“Will you have to go there?”
“I suppose we will, but not right away. Taking me anywhere requires a massive security presence at the federal, state and local levels, and they have their hands full right now with the situation they’re dealing with.
They don’t need me coming in to make their jobs harder. But we’ll go when the time is right.”
“It’s nice of you to think of that stuff.”
“If it was just me and Mom, we’d be on a plane tonight, but nothing is ever that simple for us anymore.”
“I saw what you said earlier about guns and stuff, and I hope you can get something done.”
“Personally, I think we’ve been approaching it all wrong by making it about the guns,” Sam said.
“We need to make it about the people who shouldn’t have access to guns.
We need a vastly expanded mental health network in this country, a central reporting site where people can anonymously report people showing concerning or violent behavior, and then have mental health professionals intervene rather than law enforcement. ”
Nick tipped his head as he studied her. “How’d you like to head up my Mental Health and Violence Task Force?”
Sam rolled her eyes. “As if.”
“Your approach is exactly what’s needed. Less reactiveness and more proactiveness. We need people who understand the issue, who see the results of our failings in this regard every day. You’d be the perfect person to head up this effort.”
“You’re serious,” Sam said, stunned.
“Dead serious. I bet the department would even be willing to make this role an official part of your duties, since it dovetails so perfectly with your day job.”
“Which requires most of my waking hours. When do you see me having time to fit in something else?”
“Gonzo is back to full duty and could take on a little more responsibility to give you time to work on this important issue. Think about it. Nothing has to be decided today.”
“I think you should do it, Mom. You’d be really good at it.”
“I appreciate the votes of confidence.”
“Will you think about it?” Nick asked.
“I will.”
Nick smiled widely.
“I didn’t say I’d do it!”
“Just getting you to think about something is a big win,” Scotty said.
“You hush,” she said, elbowing him playfully.
He grunted and then laughed.
“If you need to talk about any of this, you know where we are, right?” Nick asked Scotty.
“I know where you are. The whole world knows where you are.” He ran his fingers through Skippy’s silky hair as she slept next to him. “Are we still having our Christmas party?”
“I suppose we will, but we’ll keep it low-key out of respect for the victims and their families,” Nick said.