Free The Silenced by Heather Graham

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    There was a gate, artfully designed, a break in a high wall around the house. Ivy and vines grew along the wall, making it appear that the home was well established and a pleasant addition to the area.
    “Capitol police,” 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