Chapter 7

Carma's fingers gripped the fabric of Lawson's blazer. She let out a ragged, choked sob that vibrated through her chest.

Lawson stiffened for a fraction of a second before her hand came up to awkwardly pat Carma's thin back.

Carma pulled away slightly. She tilted her head up, ensuring the chandelier light caught the deep, bruised circles under her eyes and her bloodless lips.

Lawson's jaw tightened. She snapped her fingers at her Chief of Staff. "Get the concierge doctor here. Now."

A maid guided Carma to a velvet sofa. Carma wrapped her hands around a cup of hot tea, making sure the porcelain rattled against the saucer.

Ten minutes later, a doctor with a leather medical bag hurried into the living room. He immediately checked Carma's pupils with a penlight and rolled up her sleeves to draw blood.

The doctor stopped. He stared at the faint, clustered needle marks on the inside of Carma's elbow.

He stood up and faced Lawson, his expression grim. "She is severely malnourished. And her system is flooded with heavy, unprescribed psychiatric sedatives. Someone has been keeping her chemically restrained."

Lawson's hand slammed down on the coffee table. Her teacup tipped over, spilling dark liquid across the expensive Persian rug.

Carma set her cup down. She reached into her clothes and pulled out the folded, blood-stained paper she had taken from Corbin.

"The woman who did it... she wrote this before she died," Carma whispered, her voice trembling perfectly.

Lawson snatched the paper. Her eyes darted across Marge's frantic handwriting, detailing Johnie's orders and the wire transfers. Her gaze locked onto the bloody thumbprint at the bottom.

The air in the room turned to ice.

Lawson stood up. She paced across the room, the heels of her shoes clicking sharply.

"They think they can drug a child under my protection," Lawson hissed, her voice dropping to a lethal register. "They think because her mother is gone, she is an easy target. They think I am blind."

Carma lowered her head. She let another tear hit her knuckles, hiding her face entirely.

Lawson stopped pacing. She looked at her Chief of Staff. "Call the Director of the DEA. Call the DOJ."

The Chief of Staff hesitated. "Senator, raiding the home of a sitting Senator... the political fallout will be massive."

Lawson's eyes burned with cold fury. "Then let Washington burn. I want a raid on Grafton Kirk's house. Now."

The Chief of Staff pulled out his phone and walked to the corner.

Lawson sat back down next to Carma. She grabbed Carma's cold hand and squeezed it hard. "I will tear that woman apart."

Carma leaned her head onto Lawson's shoulder. Hidden from view, the corners of Carma's mouth curled upward into a slow, vicious smile.

One hour later, a federal judge signed a no-knock warrant.

Five unmarked black SUVs tore out of the federal building garage. Heavily armed tactical agents checked their rifles and battering rams in the back seats.

At the Kirk estate, Johnie sat in the sunroom. She sipped her Earl Grey tea, annoyed that Carma had slipped away at the airport, but confident the girl was too stupid to cause real damage.

The screech of tires tearing up the gravel driveway shattered the silence.

Before Johnie could stand, the front doors of the estate were blown off their hinges. A sea of black tactical gear flooded into her home.