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curious, though,” he mused. “All the paper said was that he was ‘found in a McLean, Virginia, residence.’ He must have been visiting a friend, because he has a rowhouse near Capitol Hill.”
    Peter had just given me the chance to deflect his concentration on Wilson’s last hours. “How in the world can you remember where all those congressmen and women live? There’re over four hundred of them.” I did my best to look amazed.
    His familiar grin appeared, changing Peter’s boyish face back to the savvy politico look. “I consider that basic intel. Besides, it’s really not that hard. So many of them cluster in nearby neighborhoods with their colleagues. If they bring their families with them, then they often move farther out. If they’re ‘batching’ it, they’ll get together and share a rowhouse. If they’re really scraping by, they’ll actually bunk in their offices. The wealthier ones like Wilson can afford classier digs.”
    I saluted him with my mug. “You’re amazing, Peter. Keeping track of the flocks like that. I love your image of shivering congressmen clustering together, like birds in the trees at night trying to stay warm.”
    He pushed away from my door. “Washington can be a cold place for newcomers. I’ve learned that. You’re established here and have connections, Molly, so you’re a lot more comfortable.”
    â€œThat would be nice if it was true, but this City doesn’t care whether you have connections or not. It’ll cut you down fast if there’s a hint of weakness. There’re jackals behind every lamppost, and they can smell even a whiff of blood.”
    â€œCynical already? You’ve only been back in D.C. a little over four months. Or have you always been that cynical?”
    â€œIt’s not being cynical. I’ve simply got my antennae up and my instincts on high alert.” I gave him a disarming smile. “Instinct keeps you alive in this town, Peter.”
    He chuckled. “You scare me sometimes. Listen, there’s been a substitution for one of the Senator’s dinners in a couple of weeks. Senator Gonzalez and his wife won’t be coming. Apparently, there’s been a family emergency, and they have to fly back to Arizona. So, I’ve substituted someone you know quite well. Eleanor MacKenzie.”
    Eleanor’s familiar face came forward in my mind. My elderly advisor and political confidante. Widow of a respected U.S. Senator and Secretary of State, no one was more experienced in the ways of Washington than Eleanor MacKenzie. She had also watched over Samantha and me when we were teenaged Senators’ daughters to make sure we stayed out of any semblance of trouble.
    â€œExcellent choice. Eleanor will be a great addition to the group. No one in Washington is more versed in political conversation. No matter what party affiliation, Eleanor is at home.”
    â€œI figured you’d approve. After all, you and Eleanor have known each other for ages. If I’m not mistaken, she was something of a mentor.”
    â€œBeen digging into that notorious file of mine?” I teased. “I should have known.”
    Peter gave me a wink as he headed into the hallway. “You’ve got history in this town, Molly. It’s inescapable.”
    Didn’t I know it. I sent him a dismissing wave. “Go back to the Hill with the flocks, Peter, while I bury myself in e-mails.”
    I settled into my comfy desk chair and returned to my inbox, which bulged once again. Damn . I’d just cleared it out. I was only away for a few minutes. Draining my coffee, I debated getting another cup, then decided I had to earn it. Clear the inbox. Clear the inbox.
    Only five minutes had elapsed—and five e-mails down—when the Stones’s driving beat cut through my thoughts. I reached for my personal phone. Samantha’s name flashed on the