The glass doors of the sunroom were shoved open violently. A DEA tactical team leader marched in, holding a piece of paper.
Johnie dropped her bone china teacup. It shattered against the tile. She jumped to her feet, her chest heaving.
"How dare you!" Johnie shrieked, her voice echoing through the house. "This is the home of a United States Senator!"
The team leader shoved the federal warrant directly into her face. "Search warrant. Stand down."
He waved his hand. A dozen agents bypassed her, sprinting up the grand staircase toward the second-floor luxury suite.
Johnie's stomach dropped. The blood drained from her face. She scrambled in her heels, slipping on the spilled tea, and ran after them.
Helene Kirk stepped out of her ground-floor study. She slammed her cane against the floorboards, her face purple with rage as she watched federal agents tear through her pristine home.
In the second-floor suite, agents were ripping Johnie's custom gowns off the racks. Expensive designer bags were thrown onto the floor like garbage.
Johnie stood in the doorway, her hands shaking uncontrollably. "My husband will have all your badges for this!"
An agent tapped the back wall of the walk-in closet with the butt of his flashlight. It echoed with a hollow thud.
He grabbed a heavy steel crowbar.
Johnie lunged forward. "Stop!"
Two agents grabbed her arms and slammed her against the doorframe, pinning her in place.
The crowbar tore through the drywall and custom wood paneling with a sickening crunch. A hidden, temperature-controlled compartment was exposed.
The agent reached in and pulled out two black medical coolers. He popped the latches.
Rows of unlabeled vials and heavy psychiatric pills sat packed in foam.
The team leader picked up a vial. He read the chemical abbreviation. He looked at Johnie with pure disgust. "Enough Schedule II narcotics to put you in federal prison for twenty years."
Johnie's knees buckled. She collapsed against the agents holding her, her mind going completely blank.
The team leader pulled a pair of steel handcuffs from his belt. He walked toward her.
Suddenly, Patience Pruitt, the nanny, shoved her way through the crowd of maids in the hallway. She threw herself onto her knees in front of the team leader.
"They are mine!" Patience sobbed hysterically, grabbing the agent's pants. "I bought them! I have severe anxiety! I hid them in the empty room so I wouldn't get fired!"
The team leader frowned, clearly not believing a nanny could afford black-market sedatives.
Patience rattled off three dark-web vendor names and a drop location in Southeast D. C.
Johnie snapped out of her shock. She instantly contorted her face into a mask of horrified betrayal. "Patience? You brought drugs into my home?"
The team leader glared at Johnie, knowing exactly what was happening. But with a confession on the spot, procedure tied his hands for the immediate arrest. He grabbed Patience by the arms and hauled her up. The handcuffs clicked shut around her wrists. Before stepping away, the team leader stepped into Johnie's personal space, his eyes cold and unyielding. "Don't leave town, Mrs. Kirk. We're going to tear apart every financial record this woman has. If even one cent traces back to you, I'll be back with a warrant for a sitting Senator's wife."
As the agents dragged Patience past Johnie, the nanny leaned in. "Take care of my daughter, ma'am," she whispered.
Johnie gave a microscopic nod.
The agents packed up the coolers and marched out of the house.
Helene walked up the stairs. She stopped in front of Johnie, raised her hand, and slapped Johnie across the face with all her strength.
The crack echoed down the hallway.
"Call Grafton," Helene spat. "Fix this."
Johnie touched her burning cheek. Her eyes filled with venomous hatred. She knew exactly who had sent the feds.
