Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
“What if you didn’t have to move?” Nick asked.
“We could make a case for keeping you at the farm. It would be easier to secure than Ninth Street was, it’s close enough for you to commute, and we could set you up to work some from home a lot of the time.
You could use the Naval Observatory for official meetings and entertaining. ”
“I can’t even consider this until I discuss it with Laine. I’ll do that when I get home. No matter what we decide, it’s the honor of my lifetime to be asked, Mr. President.”
“It’d be the honor of my lifetime if you said yes.”
Graham reached a hand out to Nick, who took hold of it. “Thank you, son.”
He’d been the first man to ever call Nick that and, along with his wife and children, had shown Nick what a family should be like.
Under no circumstances known to mankind would he be sitting behind the Resolute Desk without Graham O’Connor’s support and direction.
No matter what Graham decided, Nick would be forever grateful to the O’Connors.
“Teresa and her team are ready to brief in the Situation Room ahead of the call with Petrov,” Terry said.
“Let’s take care of some business,” Graham said as he got up to lead the way.
Nick glanced at Terry, who smiled and gave him a thumbs-up.
They both knew that if it was up to only Graham, he wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes to Nick’s offer. But by asking Graham to be VP, he was also asking Laine to be the second lady, and as such, discussions must be had.
He only hoped they’d come around to understanding how badly Nick needed both of them by his side at this crucial juncture.
At the Westmont apartment complex, Sam found the button for 3F that was labeled HENDERSON and pressed it, hoping Curtis Henderson would let them in so they wouldn’t have to figure out a plan B.
The intercom beeped. “Yes?”
She held her badge up to the camera. “Lieutenant Holland and Detective Cruz from the MPD. Could we please have a few minutes of your time?”
“For what?”
“Let us in, or we can do this back at our place. Your choice.”
While they waited, Sam glanced at Freddie and rolled her eyes. He knew how much she hated it when people wasted their time. She was giving this guy two more seconds before she went to find the super to let her into the building.
A buzz sounded, followed by a click that unlocked the door.
Once inside, they took the stairs to the third floor, where a man waited for them with one foot in the hallway. Wearing a dark gray T-shirt with black sweats, he had messy blondish-brown hair and gray eyes that looked at her with suspicion and maybe a touch of fear.
Sam showed her badge and went through the introductions again.
“Does anyone not know who you are?”
“How do I know? Never hurts to be polite.”
They followed him into a living room that contained only a sofa, a television mounted to the wall and a workstation in the corner. It was a far cry from Gretchen’s swanky crib, that was for sure.
“What can I do for you?” he asked as he rolled his desk chair toward the center of the room and gestured for them to take the sofa.
Sam noticed that his hands seemed to tremble as he tucked them between his knees.
“I assume you’ve heard that your ex-wife is no longer the vice president.”
“Your husband fired her.”
“Do you know why?”
“Something to do with Sergei,” he said.
“That’s right. What do you know about him?”
“He’s been leading the opposition to Petrov for years.”
The sweat that had formed on his forehead began to roll down his face. Since the apartment wasn’t overly warm, she could only chalk that reaction up to stress.
“Are you nervous, Mr. Henderson?”
“Of course I am,” he said with a rough laugh as he swiped at the sweat, sending moisture flying. “It’s not every day that detectives show up at my door.”
“How well did you know Sergei?”
“I met him a couple of times. He and Gretchen were close friends.”
“Were you aware that they dated at Oxford?”
His jaw clenched. “Of course I was. She talked about him all the time. I made a joke once about being a consolation prize for the one she really wanted. That didn’t go over well.”
“Did you view him as a rival?”
“I mean… not really. She was never his wife.”
“What’s your relationship with her been like lately?”
“It’s been really good. Since she became VP, she needed my help more with the kids, and I was there for her—and them. We were working our way back toward being a family again.”
“You were? Past tense?”
He shifted in his seat as more sweat rolled down his face, gathering on his chin. “But that’s probably not happening now.”
Sam was obsessed with waiting for the bead of sweat to drop. “Why do you say that?”
The sweat landed in his lap with a splat. “She was involved with Sergei again. He was staying at her VP house.”
“How do you know that?”
“My kids told me that Mom’s Russian friend was sleeping over. It doesn’t take a PhD to know what that means. She never got over him.”
“How did you feel when you heard they’d rekindled their romance?”
His expression hardened. “How do you think I felt? All this time, she’s been stringing me along, making me believe that the hard work I’ve done on my recovery would lead to a reconciliation, but the minute that fucking Russian lands in the U.S., she’s opening her legs for him again.”
The spew of vitriol sent a tingle down Sam’s spine.
“Where were you the night before last?”
He sat up straighter. “I was here, with my kids.”
“For the whole night?”
“Yes.”
“You never left.”
“I never left.”
“Would the building cameras back up your claim if we got a warrant for them?”
“Why would you do that?”
“We’d do it if we suspected you might’ve had something to do with Sergei’s murder.”
“I didn’t!”
Sweat covered his entire face and had dampened his T-shirt.
“I can’t help but notice you’re sweating profusely, sir,” Sam said.
“It’s a side effect of medication I take for my bipolar disorder.”
“Which medication do you take?”
“Lamictal.”
“Detective Cruz, will you please check to see if profuse sweating is a side effect of that medication?”
While Henderson glared at her, Freddie asked him to spell it, which he did.
“I don’t see anything about sweating on the list of side effects,” Freddie said.
“That leads me to believe there’s something else causing the profuse sweating and trembling hands. Did you have something to do with Sergei Ivanov’s murder?”
“I did not.”
“Do you want to think about where you were the night before last?”
“Right here with my kids,” he said through gritted teeth.
Without breaking eye contact with Henderson, she said, “Detective Cruz, please request a warrant for the building’s security cameras.”
Freddie tapped away at his phone, seeing to her request while Henderson continued to sweat.
“I’d like to speak to my lawyer, please.”
“We can arrange that for you when we get to headquarters. Please stand and place your hands behind your back.”
“You’re arresting me?”
“We’re taking you into custody. We’ll let you know if and when it becomes an arrest.”
“You can’t do this! I have to pick up my kids at school!”
“Is there someone we could call to take care of that for you, since you’re going to be tied up this afternoon?”
Freddie slapped the cuffs on him. “Literally.”