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U.S. Attorney General Allison Leahy is the Democrats' best chance for holding on to the Oval Office. But she's running neck and neck with her opponent, Republican Lincoln Howe, a retired four-star general and bona fide African-American hero. Then, days before the election, disaster strikes. Twelve-year-old Kristen Howe, the general's granddaughter, is kidnapped. As the nation's leading law enforcement officer, Allison launches a nationwide manhunt—even as her opponent publicly questions her motives. For Allison, though, finding Kristen isn't about politics. It's a personal crusade that taps into terrifying secrets buried deep within the past—secrets that can shatter all of Allison's hopes, twisting them into a nightmare of lies and the ultimate betrayal.
She and her escorts inched across the sidewalk, nearing the curb. They were FBI, it was plain. Four FBI agents surrounding the attorney general—despite his warning. His face flushed with anger. Hadn’t she received his message? Was she ignoring his instructions? He watched, furious, as her entourage crossed the street and headed toward the Justice Building. Open defiance. That’s what it was. There was no other explanation. He’d warned her to keep the FBI out of this. The setup in the subway
tape, near a van marked MEDICAL EXAMINER. Three squad cars and two unmarked cars formed a semicircle around the stolen 1997 Chevy Camaro with Tennessee license tags. Forensic experts were checking for fingerprints and gathering fibers from the seats and carpet. Two men from the medical examiner’s office were wheeling a gurney through the open door to apartment 201. Harley stepped down from the Bucar and buttoned his jacket, thinking it felt more like January than November. A tall black man
make peace since their blowup earlier that week, but with the election looming, everyone seemed to understand that, like it or not, they were stuck with one another for a few more days. The meeting followed the usual agenda, beginning with the latest polls. The race was dead even in the popular vote, but Howe was beginning to pull ahead in the decisive electoral college. Two hundred and seventy votes were needed to win. Howe had a lock on a hundred and eight. Leahy could count only seventy as
marching band reached its big finish. The crowd clapped to the music, then erupted in one enthusiastic cheer. Howe and his campaign manager were deep in thought, oblivious to the noise. “I’ve got an idea,” said LaBelle, his face alight. “We’ll tell them, about the campaign spending controversy.” “What spending controversy?” “You haven’t heard?” he said, making a face. “It’s unconscionable. Leahy and her band of unscrupulous political hacks have demanded that the Howe family take down all of
right. But are you sure you want to go through with this?” “Yes, damn it. I’ll see you in fifteen minutes.” She switched off the phone and tucked it back into her purse, then braced herself as she opened the front door. The cacophony hit her as quickly as the cold morning air. Her FBI escort met her on the front steps. He opened the iron gate and pushed the media aside, clearing a short path across the width of the sidewalk. Her limo was at the curb with the motor running. Another agent inside