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the child
crawled out of her crib and simply managed to get herself stuck somewhere or
was injured and couldn't cry for help."
    "Interesting
how the housekeeper hadn't thought of that," Mrs. Grand said, to no one in
particular, while staring out the kitchen window.
    "Katherine,
please," said the governor. "Go on, Detective."
    Nurberg
continued. "Or sometimes, the child will just crawl away and fall asleep. Hours
later, she'll wake up happy and innocent and come out of the hiding spot,
without ever knowing all the havoc she caused."
    "How
often does that happen, Detective?" asked the First Lady, whose attention
Nurberg finally seemed to have.
    "Does
what happen, ma'am?"
    "That
a reported kidnapping results in a happy child lost somewhere in the house."
    Nurberg's
eyes met the First Lady's for the first time. They were a sharp and piercing
blue.
    "Not
very often, ma'am. But it is a possibility."
    "Indeed."
Mrs. Grand returned to her tea.
    "What
can we do?" the governor asked Nurberg.
    "I'm
assuming the first officers on the scene questioned you both along with
everyone else in the home."
    "Yes,"
the governor said. "I don't know how much help I was. Katherine and I were at
the Kliger Nursing Home on the other side of town when all this happened." The
governor massaged his temples with his right hand. "I just can't believe this
... I've cleared my schedule for the next few days. I'm available for anything
you need."
    "There
are some reporters skulking around outside, Detective," Mrs. Grand said,
motioning with her chin toward the kitchen window.
    "They
may have followed the police cars here, ma'am." Nurberg walked over to the
window and gazed out.
    "Can't
you control them?" the First Lady asked.
    Nurberg
couldn't help but smirk. Mrs. Grand, a seasoned PR strategist before she
married the governor and began her life of charity events and proclamation
dinners, had a reputation for turning any event, no matter how small, into a
media frenzy. She had press conferences for each of her three trimesters; for
the decorating of the nursery; for the naming of the child, who was named after
the First Lady's paternal grandmother—a descendent, she claimed, of Mary
Boleyn, mistress to Henry VIII—and, of course, for the actual birth, baptism,
and first tooth of Charlotte Grand.
    "We'll
do our best," Nurberg said. "In fact, it would be a good idea if we kept this
quiet for as long as possible. The last thing we want is a media circus, which
would just hinder our ability to conduct a thorough investigation." He paused.
"Do either of you have any ideas as to what could have happened here?"
    The
First Lady placed her teacup down. "I'm not sure what you mean, Detective."
    "Well,"
Nurburg said, "any thoughts on who might have taken the baby or why?"
    "No,
not at all," the governor said. "Everyone loves Charlotte. She has brought so
much joy to everyone's life. Right, Katherine?"
    Mrs.
Grand's nod was short and tight. If Nurberg hadn't been looking for it, he
would have missed it altogether.
    "Any
enemies, Governor?" Nurberg asked.
    Governor
Grand threw up his hands. "Take your pick, Detective. The political climate is
hostile these days, particularly for Republican government officials. Anyone
who is anti-gun, pro-abortion, or anti–death penalty seems to have, at one time
or another, picketed in front of my door, called me names, and made my
political life hell, as if my principles were of any less value or substance
than theirs."
    "Recently,
though, sir, any threats or people with a particular ax to grind?" Nurberg
asked.
    The
governor thought for a moment. "No," he said. "No one comes to mind."
    "And
you, ma'am?" Nurberg turned toward the First Lady, who was staring out the
window. "Ma'am?"
    Mrs.
Grand took her napkin and patted her lips, wiping off the last traces of
lipstick she was wearing. She placed the napkin down and shook her head. "Why
don't you ask me what you really want to ask me, detective?" she said.
    "And
what is that, ma'am?"