Chapter Thirteen
Sam came awake slowly, leisurely. It had been years since she’d had this much time off and she’d begun to enjoy the ability to sleep in.
Although “sleeping in” usually meant eight at the latest, and it was only five now.
Why was she awake? Beside her, Nick slept peacefully.
She hated that he’d lost so much sleep over her, and to see him relaxed and sleeping was a huge relief.
After a few minutes, she realized she wouldn’t be going back to sleep and decided to go downstairs to get the book Tracy had given her. She got up, used the bathroom and then put her sweatshirt and sweats back on to go downstairs. Outside Scotty’s door, the agent in charge stood to greet her.
“Good morning, Mrs. Cappuano.”
“Good morning, Darcy.”
“I was asked to let you know that Captain Malone from the MPD was here to see you.”
“When?”
“Around midnight.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“We were given orders by the vice president that you were not to be disturbed for any reason except if your son needed you.”
“Right,” Sam said, recalling Nick’s final words to the agent on duty the night before. “Did he say what he wanted?”
“No, ma’am. I believe he said he would call you.”
Sam’s heart beat fast and her palms were sweating by the time she picked up the phone she’d left charging on her bedside table. The only reason the captain would’ve come to her home in the middle of the night, while she was on leave, was if something was terribly wrong.
She sat on the bed and flipped open the phone to find multiple missed calls from Malone, Cruz and Farnsworth. “Fuck,” she whispered. “God, what now?” Sam was half-tempted to close the phone and pretend, for a little while longer anyway, that she hadn’t seen the missed calls.
In truth, she was on leave and could ignore the calls without consequence. But she couldn’t do that. She wouldn’t do it. Whatever was wrong, she’d have to deal with it eventually. With that thought in mind, she returned the call to Malone.
He answered on the first ring. “Lieutenant.”
His formality only ramped up her anxiety. “Captain. I’m sorry I was unavailable when you came by last night.”
“I’m sorry to have to tell you that Detective Arnold has been shot and killed in the line of duty.”
A punch to the gut wouldn’t have hurt any worse than those words did. All the oxygen left her body in a big whoosh, leaving her lightheaded and nauseated. “When?”
“Around eleven thirty last night. He was on a stakeout with Sergeant Gonzales, waiting on a person of interest in the knife attacks case. When they confronted the suspect on the street, he fired on Detective Arnold, killing him almost instantly with a shot to the face.”
Sam wiped away tears that would’ve pissed her off royally before she’d been attacked. Now she felt everything so much more acutely than she ever had, and this news hurt like a bastard. Poor Arnold. Such a great guy and a promising young detective. And Gonzo… “Is Gonzo nearby? Could I speak to him?”
“Hang on.”
She heard low voices in the background.
“Hey,” Gonzo said, the single word conveying a world of emotion.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“My fault. I let him take the lead not knowing what we were dealing with.”
“You were doing your job, part of which is to train him.”
“Wasn’t the time for training, but that’s on me.”
She’d argue that point with him later when the shock had worn off. “His family…”
“The captain and I are on our way there now.”
“What can I do?”
“Nothing. You’re on leave.”
“Not anymore I’m not. I’ll be at HQ within thirty minutes. Tell me how I can help.”
“Shooter’s in the wind. Happened right in front of me, and I couldn’t return fire in time to take him down.”
It was going to be, Sam realized, a very long time—if ever—before Tommy Gonzales got over what had happened to his partner.
“We’ll get him, Gonzo.” As she said those words, the fire in her belly that had been extinguished in Marissa Springer’s basement came roaring back to life with the power of a full-blown inferno. “We will get him. Do you hear me?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll see you when you get back to HQ. Tell Arnold’s parents I’ll be up to see them later today.”
“I will.”
“Call me if you need me, Tommy. I mean it.”
“Ok.”
She closed her phone and ran for the shower, skipping her hair so she could get to her people sooner.
With the fire in her belly still burning hot and fierce, she crossed the hall to get dressed in jeans, a warm sweater and heavy socks.
For the first time in weeks, she went back into her bedroom to unlock the drawer in her bedside table and retrieved her weapon, badge and cuffs.
When she was as ready as she’d ever be to face this day, she burst from her bedroom, startling Darcy.
“Is everything all right, ma’am?”
“One of my officers has been killed.”
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry. If there’s anything we can do…”
“Thank you. I’ll let you know.” Sam took the stairs to the loft two a time. She hated to wake Nick when he was getting some much-needed rest, but she couldn’t leave without speaking to him. Sitting on the edge of the mattress that covered the double lounge, she leaned forward to kiss him.
“Nick.” When he didn’t rouse, she did it again.
His eyes opened, immediately awake and on alert. “Why are you dressed?”
“Arnold was killed overnight. I have to go into work.”
“What? He was killed? How?”
“Shot confronting a suspect. The guy’s in the wind. I have to go.”
“Samantha, wait. Before you go…” He sat up and wrapped his arms around her. “Babe.”
“I know.”
“Was anyone else hurt?”
“Gonzo was right there when it happened, but he’s not physically wounded. Emotionally…”
“Yeah. Jesus. Poor Arnold. He’s a kid.”
Sam bit her lip to keep from wailing. She couldn’t think about what had been lost. Not now anyway. Not when they had a killer to hunt down and a job to do. “I have to go.”
“I want to come with you.”
“I can’t wait for the Secret Service and all that. I have to go now. Can you catch up?”
“You want me there?”
She pulled back to gaze into his gorgeous hazel eyes. “Yeah, I want you there.”
“I’ll clear my schedule for as long as you need me.”
Sam kissed him. “Thanks. I’ll see you there. Go in through the morgue so you don’t get hounded by the media, and keep the detail to as few agents as possible.”
“I will. I’ll call Shelby and get her over here to stay with Scotty.” He twirled a strand of her hair around his finger. “Be careful out there, babe. This guy has already gunned down a cop. He’s got nothing to lose, and I’ve got everything to lose.”
“I’m always careful, and I expect I’ll be even more so now.” She didn’t have to tell him what now meant. There was before Stahl attacked her, and then there was now.
“You’re sure you’re ready to go back?”
“Nope. But he was one of mine. I’m going back for him. It’s not about me right now.”
Placing both hands on her face, he kissed her again. “I’ll be right behind you.”
“Knowing that makes it easier to face this.”
“I love you.”
“Love you, too.” Stealing one last kiss, Sam got up and headed downstairs, nodded to Darcy and kept going to the first floor.
She grabbed a couple of granola bars and two bottles of water.
At the front hall closet, she chose her warmest parka and a pair of sheepskin-lined gloves Nick had given her for Christmas as well as the warm boots he’d bought for her and was shown out the door by the agent on duty fifteen minutes after she talked to Malone.
In the BMW, she took full advantage of the heated seats as she pulled out of Ninth Street and headed for HQ.
Arnold is dead.
The words refused to register as truth in her brain.
It was unfathomable. The happy-go-lucky detective who was their favorite whipping boy couldn’t possibly be gone.
And Gonzo, poor Gonzo. Arnold had so recently saved Gonzo’s life after he was shot, and to have his partner gunned down right next to him…
Sam took a deep breath, trying to keep her emotions in check so she’d be able to guide her squad through the tragic loss of one of their own. Before he heard it on the news, there was one person she needed to tell, so she placed a call to her father.
Sam’s stepmother Celia answered. “Mmm, hello.”
“Celia, wake up. It’s me, Sam. I need to talk to Dad.”
“What’s wrong, honey?”
“My detective… Arnold… he was… He’s dead, Celia.”
“Oh no. Oh, God.”
“I wanted Dad to hear it from me and not on the news.”
“Of course. I’ll take the phone to him. I’m so sorry, Sam.”
“I know.” Her stepmother’s kindness brought more tears to Sam’s eyes. “Thanks.”
“Hang on for your dad, honey.”
In the background, Sam heard some rustling and shuffling before Skip Holland came on the line. “What’s wrong, baby girl?” His voice was gruff from sleep.
“It’s Arnold.” She realized she was going to have to say those words a lot before the dust settled. And it wasn’t going to get any easier the more she said the words. “He was shot and killed in the line last night. The shooter is in the wind. He was our person of interest in the knife attacks.”
“Aw, Christ. I’m so sorry. Such a fine young man.”
“Yes.” It was all she could do not to break down into big, loud sobs at the sound of her dad’s voice on the phone. She used her coat sleeve to wipe her eyes as she drove. “What am I supposed to do, Dad? How do I get my people through this?”
“Your job is to lead and to command, to be there for your people as well as Arnold’s family.”
“I want to be out tracking this guy down and making him pay for what he did to Arnold.”
“That’s not your job in this case. I assume you’ve called in the Marshals to help locate him?”
“Yeah and the FBI.”
“Let them do the chasing. You all stay focused on building an airtight case against him that’ll hold up in court. It’ll give you something to do with the grief and rage.”
“I can’t get far enough past the heartbreak to feel anything but that.”