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Xander, who had a frown on his face. “I’ll call you as soon as I know anything. Don’t worry, okay?” She kissed him lightly, then got in the car before he could protest.
    Fletcher slammed the gas and the car leaped from the curb. Sam grabbed the seat belt and jammed it into the lock.
    “Jesus, Fletch. What the hell?”
    He didn’t move his eyes from the road, spoke grimly.
    “Congressman Leighton is dead.”

Chapter 5
    Sam recognized the congressman’s name, but that was all. She told Fletcher that. He glanced over at her and barked a small, humorless laugh.
    “You’re probably the only one in D.C. who doesn’t know everything about him. Peter Leighton is the head of the Armed Services Subcommittee. Four-term congressman from Indiana, Democrat, big-time dove. He’s been shooting down the military for years, authoring bills to cut spending, shutting down VA hospitals, the works. But lately, he’s had a change of heart. He authored an appropriations bill that will give more funding to the military. It’s a massive reversal. He’s been under fire.”
    “Now I’ve got him. Xander isn’t a fan.”
    “I can’t imagine why not,” he said drily.
    “So what’s the story?”
    “He collapsed in his office on the Hill about two hours ago. They said he was having trouble breathing. He was dead on the scene but they transported him anyway. Called it at GW half an hour ago.”
    “And I’m racing with you where, why?”
    “Morgue. Nocek wants you to help post him.”
    “Why me?”
    He glanced at her again. “I may have asked if he’d be cool with having you come in.”
    “I’m flattered. Again, why me?”
    “Because something isn’t right with the congressman’s death. I want to move fast, and I trust you to take an unbiased look. That’s all I’m going to say.”
    “Cloak-and-dagger doesn’t suit you, Fletch.”
    “Just trust me, okay?”
    “Was he on the Metro this morning?”
    “Undetermined.”
    “God, you sound just like Xander when he doesn’t want to give up information. One word grunts. Come on, Fletch. I can’t do my job if you don’t give me the facts.”
    He sighed. “They’re still running air-quality tests in the Metro. Nothing is registering. It’s not ricin, sarin or anthrax. It made over two hundred people really sick, but only two are confirmed dead. They were on the Metro early this morning, so the thinking is they were exposed directly, soon after the toxin was released. More could die—there are a few in medically induced comas and a couple in critical. We need to find out what the cause was, and fast, so the injured can get proper treatment.”
    “Shouldn’t I be posting the two who died then?”
    “Nocek is on it. He and his team finished the two from earlier and have run all the samples to the labs. But Leighton is different.”
    “Different how?”
    “Just...trust me.”
    They were screaming up Constitution now, heading toward the Capitol. Even in a disaster, the view was stunning. The lights of the city shone brightly on the eerily empty sidewalks. The corners were manned by police in full armor, weapons at the ready. No one was on the streets, an unnerving sight. She’d never been able to travel so quickly through the city before—Fletcher had his mounted light going, was blowing through the stoplights like they didn’t exist. Sam was getting the sense that something much, much bigger was going on than just the death of a congressman.
    * * *
    The morgue was as depressingly bland and old as it had been the last time she’d been forced to visit—to do a secondary autopsy on her former boyfriend, Edward Donovan. Donovan’s murder had led her directly to Xander, who had been, at the moment she met him, the police’s prime suspect. Things worked out for the best, but she hadn’t held a scalpel over dead flesh for three months.
    Would she be rusty? Would she be compelled to wash? Would the stillness overwhelm her and make her run away?
    She didn’t like