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Talk to Susan—I love you and I’ll call you when I know something, you do the same.”
    â€œI love you, too,” Donovan said.
    Lauren hung up and raced upstairs while she speed-dialed William. She felt the urgency of the situation build as it rang.Opening her closet, she threw an overnight bag on the bed and began pulling clothes out of her dresser when, to her great relief, William finally answered.
    â€œWilliam, it’s Lauren. I’m sorry about the hour, but I have bad news.” She took a breath and steadied herself. “Donovan just called. Michael’s been shot. He’s alive, but we don’t know anything beyond that.”
    â€œOh, no.” William’s voice trailed off. “I know they left today. Remind me where they went?”
    â€œThey’re in Boca Raton, Florida. Donovan is talking to Susan right now, and I’m on my way over there as soon as I’m off the phone with you.”
    â€œOkay. I’m assuming we need a chartered jet to carry the six of us?”
    â€œYes.” Lauren always marveled at how intuitive the elder statesman could be. He’d already assumed she and Abigail were going.
    â€œI thought so. How did Donovan sound?”
    â€œNot great. All he alluded to was that he didn’t get to Michael in time and that we needed to hurry.”
    â€œOh God, anything but that. How did all of this happen?”
    Lauren relayed what little Donovan had passed along to her. Given the circumstances it was no surprise he seemed as concerned about Donovan’s state of mind as she was. William had been a part of her husband’s life since he was a child. He had become Donovan’s guardian after Donovan’s parents were killed. The two of them were as close as father and son and William was certainly a calming influence, not only to Donovan, but to her as well.
    â€œLeave the charter to me,” William said. “I’ll call you back shortly with the details. Let’s meet at Susan’s. We’ll all leave for the airport from there.”
    â€œThank you, William, you’re a godsend. We’ll be waiting.” Lauren instantly felt better now that William was involved. He was one of the most energetic seventy-four-year-olds she’d ever met, and easily one of the most powerful behind-the-scenes men insidethe Washington D.C. beltway. If you needed a jet in the middle of the night, William VanGelder was a good person to know.
    Once off the phone, she finished packing, then went in and repeated the process with Abigail’s things. She dressed, loaded the luggage in her car, and then gently carried her still-sleeping daughter out, fastening her securely into the car seat. During the ten-minute drive, all she could think about was Michael.
    As she neared the house, she saw evidence that Donovan had made the call. Inside lights were on, as well as the porch light. Lauren pulled into the driveway, gathered her sleeping daughter in her arms, and hurried up the walk toward the front door. Before she was halfway to the house, the door swung open and Susan appeared, tightly clutching herself. Lauren couldn’t help but think Susan somehow looked smaller.
    Lauren moved through the open door, went straight to the sofa, and gently laid Abigail on the plush cushions. She turned and hugged Susan. “I’m so sorry,” Lauren whispered as Susan sobbed softly, her body shuddering as she wept. Lauren held her friend, thinking of how strong Susan had always been in the past.
    â€œWhy?” Susan said. “How could this have happened?”
    Lauren fought her own tears as Susan cried. Sitting on a shelf were dozens of pictures, one of a much younger Michael, all blond hair and square jawed. Every bit the good-looking Southern California beach boy, except that he was standing in a flight suit next to a Navy jet. The impish expression on his tanned face hinted at the devilish sense of humor behind his deep-blue