Maggie couldn’t help but notice that the short ride from the airport yielded a breathtakingly beautiful sunset, the sky clear now except for the pink-purple streaks. The only evidence of a recent storm was the glittering snow that blanketed everything in sight. That and the cold, a bitter cold that you could see in breaths that streamed from brief greetings while getting in and out of vehicles. “Looks like even the national vultures have already arrived,” A.D. Kunze said as they passed by a lopsided line of vans and trucks with TV call letters on their sides and satellite receivers on their roofs. A helicopter flew overhead. “It’s all part of the process,” Senator Foster told them, looking out at the reporters and cameramen assembling equipment as close to the action as possible. Maggie noticed the senator straighten his tie in the reflection of the SUV’s window. At first she thought she was mistaken. Perhaps it was an absentminded habit. But then he brushed a hand over his silver hair.
