The Silenced. Heather Graham

Matt murmured.

      “Pardon?”

      He pointed down the street, and she saw a car with the markings of the Capitol police department. She knew that the department was responsible for a two-hundred-block area around the Capitol, but in reality their reach extended all the way around the globe, if need be. They were responsible for Congress when it was in session, but their responsibility to senators and congressmen, their families and staff, went far beyond that. If a congressman from Utah, for example, was speaking back in his home state, Capitol police might be there to look after his safety. In 1801, when Congress moved from Philadelphia to DC, only one man was assigned by Congress to protect the Capitol building. But in 1828, when a son of John Quincy Adams was attacked in the rotunda, the United States Capitol Police Department was established.

      “Maybe the congressman thinks he’s in danger,” Meg suggested.

      “Or maybe the patrol car is just doing a drive-by,” Matt said thoughtfully.

      “It might have something to do with the death of Garth Hubbard,” Meg said.

      “That’s an interesting possibility,” Matt said.

      They paused at the gate. When he stated who they were and it rolled open, they drove through to the circular drive.

      Three men in suits were standing on the porch.

      None of them was Ian Walker.

      As they both got out of the car, Matt Bosworth took his ID wallet from his suit pocket; she did the same.

      The men seemed to recognize Matt.

      And they’d been expecting them.

      The three on the porch were a varied trio. One was tall, maybe an inch taller than Matt. He was bald and looked like he might have been a biker in an earlier life. Another one was lean, about a foot shorter, with thick wavy hair and a ready smile. The third was somewhere in between, well built, about six-even and with close-cropped brown hair.

      “Welcome,” the shorter man said. “Congressman Walker is waiting for you. I’m Ellery Manheim, his personal assistant. Nathan Oliver here, to my right—” he indicated the large man “—is also with my office, and Joe Brighton—” he gestured at the man to his left “—is Congressman Walker’s campaign and media manager.”

      Meg had heard about the three of them from Lara. As they shook hands all around, Meg thought of the things she’d heard Lara say about these men—many of which had made her laugh. Ellery Manheim was the one in charge of day-to-day matters, since Walker was usually absorbed with bigger concerns. “Ellery’s fine,” Lara had told her, “as long as it’s not raining. The man has more hair products than I’ve owned in my whole life!”

      Lara had liked Joe Brighton and called him an interesting man. Brighton had been a marine before going into media. “He could spin it so that a polar explorer would buy an icebox, no word of a lie!” Lara had said.

      And about the huge guy, Nathan Oliver, Lara’s comment had been, “He’s okay, too. Except if you were to crash into the guy, you’d probably have to be hospitalized. I think he’s made of steel—or maybe rock. He’d crumble if he cracked a smile. He’s called an assistant, but I suspect he’s really a bodyguard.”

      Meg thought she recognized the men, at least vaguely. They hovered around the congressman whenever he spoke in public.

      “Come in, come in, please,” Ellery Manheim told them. “Congressman Walker is waiting in the den. I understand you’ve come to see us about Lara Mayhew?”

      “Yes,” Matt said. Meg realized he didn’t intend to say anything more until they were actually with the congressman.

      If Manheim had hoped Matt was going to discuss why they were there, he didn’t reveal any sign of it. He just said, “Lara is a phenomenal young woman. Her work for Congressman Walker was exceptional.”

      They were led through a mudroom to a grand foyer and, from there, to a large office off to the side; it seemed to stretch the length of the house, which must have been seven or eight thousand square feet in size.

      Matt glanced at her as they moved along. To her surprise, he offered her a wry smile and whispered, “And this is just his Capitol home. Can you imagine his spread in Virginia?”

      Her lips twitched slightly. He was already stepping forward to shake Congressman Walker’s hand.

      “I understand there’s some concern about Lara Mayhew,” Walker said after introductions had gone around. Meg noticed that Matt referred to her as Agent Murray—and made no reference to her friendship with Lara.

      “Yes, she left friends and family a few very cryptic messages, and no one’s been able to reach her,” Matt said.

      Congressman Walker directed them to comfortable leather seating in the center of the long office. Meg saw that his men had followed them in, but didn’t sit. “Lara was with us at Capitol Hill until very late the night before last,” Walker said. “And normally, she’d be here now. She was wonderful! But I’m afraid she resigned her position that night. Maybe the hours of the job got to her,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t blame her. She was young and probably wanted more of a life than she had working with me.”

      “You’re planning a run for the presidency?” Matt asked.

      “Considering it,” Walker responded.

      “Congressman,” Ellery Manheim said, clearing his throat.

      Walker grinned. Meg observed that he was a handsome and dignified man, wearing his years very well for a man of sixty-plus. He had retained a full head of steel-gray hair; his eyes were a deep brown and set in a nicely sculpted face. He was extremely fit; Lara had told her he could run on his treadmill and dictate notes or discuss a promotional or communications issue at the same time. Today, he was casually dressed in a light blue pullover and jeans.

      He had an easy smile that made him a man to trust.

      “Why were you working so late?” Matt asked.

      “The evening got away from us.” Walker let out a soft sigh. “You can’t imagine the volume of letters I receive, the needs of my constituents. Couple that with studying the quantity of bills that are always on the agenda—and sorting out what’s tacked onto what and whether the value of passing a particular bill outweighs the problems. Then, of course, there’s reelection—and deciding if I should throw my hat in the ring. Work never stops,” he said.

      “No, it never does!” That pronouncement came from a woman who swept into the room. She was slim and tiny and kept her hair tinted blonde, and, like the congressman, she carried her age well. She didn’t appear to be the recipient of hours of cosmetic work, and the smile lines that crinkled around her mouth and eyes only enhanced her natural beauty.

      “Work, work, work!” she said, grinning as she approached the newcomers.

      Matt instantly rose; Meg did, too. “My wife, Kendra,” Congressman Walker said. “Kendra, special agents Bosworth and Murray, FBI.”

      “FBI?” Kendra repeated, shaking their hands.

      “They’re here about Lara,” Walker said.

      “Lara? She’s an amazing girl,” Kendra said. “If she’s in any kind of trouble...”

      “No trouble, my dear,” Walker said quickly. “She’s missing.”

      “Missing? She was working with you all the other night!” Kendra said. She frowned, playing with a little silver pendant of the Washington Memorial she wore around her neck. “But didn’t you tell me she was moving on—that she felt she wasn’t really cut out for politics?”

      “Yes, dear,” Walker murmured.

      “We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Kendra declared. “Ellery, could you ask Ginger to bring a coffee and tea service in here? You people are so consumed