Thirty-four-year-old Carol Anne Jansen — also known as CJ to her friends and colleagues — checked her running belt to make sure she had everything she needed for her jog along the Tidal Basin. One couldn't leave anything to chance with all the tourists, crazies, and government employees out for their daily run. Any and all manner of things could go wrong. Even in broad daylight. This was, after all, the nation's capital. And it was also an early spring break for most schools, which meant that there were twice as many tourists and crazies about.

She double-checked that she had her driver's license, which featured a picture of her round face, light brown hair that hung down to her shoulders, blue eyes — that sparkled in the sunlight, if not in the photograph — up-tilted eyebrows, narrow mouth, and tiny nose. She also had her government ID that said she worked for Congressman Otto "Snapper" Lewis, the powerful chairman of the House Ways and Means committee, her lone credit card, and fifty dollars. She never carried more than fifty dollars for fear of having to hand it over to some thug. She was good to go. She zipped up the running belt, wrapped it around her waist, and slapped on her Fitbit.

CJ glanced over her shoulder to make sure her computer was in sleep mode. Check. Desk lamp off. Check. Desk drawers locked. Check.

The little digital clock on her desk said it was 5:10. It had been a light workday, which had allowed for the late-afternoon run. Congressman Lewis had told her she could leave even earlier, but she had declined to do so because she was conscientious to a fault. She thought about how insistent he'd been lately and wondered why, but in the end she shrugged it off as just another one of Snapper's quirks.

Satisfied that everything was in order, she opened the door to Snapper's office, and called out, "I'm leaving, boss. Unless you need me to do something." Not bothering to wait for a response, CJ rattled on. "Remember, you need to be on time this evening for that black-tie dinner at the Armory. And I'm going to be late in the morning because I have an early appointment." CJ had an appointment with her therapist, whom she had been seeing ever since her brother, Kick, had died four years ago.

"Got it. Have a nice night, CJ."

He really doesn't sound right, CJ thought to herself. "Is something wrong, boss? You sound, I don't know, distracted? I know how you hate those dinners, but you can split after an hour. In fact, you should be leaving for the dinner now."

"I will, but I'm waiting for a phone call. Run along, CJ."

CJ chewed on her lower lip. He was waiting for a phone call? Snapper Lewis never waited for a phone call. He was the one who made the calls, and if you didn't pick up, you didn't get a second call. Weird.

"Okay, but be sure to log it in when it comes through. I don't need a ton of paperwork to chase down some dry cleaner calling to remind you to pick up your tux." It was all said in a joking manner in the hopes her boss would tell her who was calling. Nothing. It didn't work.

"Go already!" Congressman Lewis barked.

"Okay, okay, I'm gone. Be sure to turn out all the lights and lock your desk and the door."

"Yes, Mother," he drawled, but CJ picked up the hint of anger in his voice. It was definitely time to leave.

Outside the office, CJ debated taking the elevator or the stairs. She was a health nut, so she opted for the stairs. She pulled at the heavy door and whizzed through it just as the elevator door opened. An unfamiliar scent wafted her way. Wow, she thought, someone took a bath in some crappy cologne that must have come in gallon jugs. She sniffed several times, hoping to get the abominable scent out of her nostrils.

Once she was in the parking garage, she headed to where she'd parked her ten-year-old Nissan Sentra and climbed in. The ride to the Tidal Basin wouldn't take that long; she'd run for forty minutes, then head home. The engine coughed and sputtered to life. She really needed to get a new car. Maybe a new used one. She put it on her to-do list and was about to shift from park to reverse when she remembered something that hit her like a whack to the side of her head. "Oh crap! Crap! Crap! Crap!" She had forgotten to leave the report the congressman was going to need for his 7:00 A.M. meeting. And he didn't have the keys to her desk. Banging her hands on the steering wheel, she knew she had to go back. "Hell! Well, maybe you'll start up when I get back!" she yelled at her lump of a junkmobile.

CJ hauled herself out of the car and ran back into the Rayburn House Office Building, in which she had toiled since the day she'd got out of college, twelve years ago. Twelve years. And all of them for Otto "Snapper" Lewis. There were people who said she was almost as powerful as Snapper, but she always pooh-poohed the idea. People were always trying to curry favor with the congressman and tried to get to him through her. It was a fruitless endeavor since she protected him against any and all such attempts. She was the proverbial brick wall against those he did not want to deal with. It was her job to both protect her boss and oversee the workings of his office. She wasn't sure, but she did think that she'd probably stop short of taking a bullet for him.

Because she was in good physical shape, she was able to take the stairs two at a time. When she arrived at the door that led to the hallway, her heart was pumping at the pace of a good workout. She frowned when she got a whiff of the same foul odor she'd encountered earlier. Once she opened the door, the scent was so overwhelming that she gagged. The hallway smelled like a funeral home filled with too many flowers that had begun to rot.

CJ had her key in hand when she realized that the light was on in the congressman's office, which brought a frown to her face. Surely, his call must have come through by now. Rather than risk his wrath, pretended or otherwise, she walked around the corner to the second entrance to the suite and let herself into her own office, which was adjacent to his. If she was very quiet and didn't make any noise, she could be in and out, do what she had to do, and good old Snapper would never know she'd almost screwed up.

The moment she opened the door, however, she knew something was wrong. While she couldn't hear exactly what was being said, the tone of the loud voices was high-pitched and very ugly. She caught a word here and there. She stood still, uncertain what to do. Her inner self, which she relied on daily, told her to move her feet and get the hell out. Instead, she quietly advanced inside and walked over to her desk, which was in the middle of the room. Whatever was going on in the congressman's office was none of her business. It was after hours, so he was on his own. She kept trying to convince herself not to pay attention to what was transpiring in the other room.

CJ did what she had come to do. She opened her desk drawer and pulled out the bright yellow folder sitting on top. Snapper liked everything in yellow folders with bright green tabs. No other color. Just bright green tabs. It was another one of his many quirks. She centered it on her desk, relocked the drawer, and turned to leave. And that was when her leg hit the metal trash can next to her desk. She held back the desire to utter an expletive, and this time she paid attention to her inner self, which was warning her to hide.

Acting accordingly, she dropped...