Chapter Ten #2
“Unless,” Skip said, “the DNA is a match for Taylor Rollings and the director raised a kidnapped child as his own. Then it won’t seem so preposterous.”
Avery’s face reddened. “You can’t honestly believe that Troy Hamilton kidnapped someone else’s child and raised him as his own!”
“I never imagined the speaker of the House or a ranking senator would be involved in a prostitution ring,” Sam said, “or that one of the top candidates for president would murder the wife of the current president’s deputy chief of staff because she stopped providing intel.
I never would’ve thought a Supreme Court nominee would be gunned down by his own brother. Shall I go on?”
“No,” Hill said, his expression stony. “But this is Troy Hamilton we’re talking about.”
“I know,” Sam said with a sigh, “and I respect how shocking it is for you to hear this, but please don’t tell me it’s impossible that he had anything to do with it.”
“Fine, I won’t,” he said testily. “What’s your plan?”
“We’re going to find Josh Hamilton, make sure he’s safe and lean on the lab to get us those results ASAP,” Sam said. “After that, I don’t have a plan.”
“You’ll keep me posted?” Avery asked. “As a courtesy.”
Since she was technically suspended and not on the case in an official capacity, Sam glanced at Malone.
“We’ll keep you posted,” Malone said.
“And you’ll keep what we’ve told you here under wraps until we have cause to take this to Hamilton?”
“Yeah,” Hill said gruffly. “I won’t say anything. I’m going to take Shelby home. Let me know if you hear anything about Josh or the DNA.”
“We will,” Sam said.
He nodded and turned to leave the room.
“He’s in denial,” Skip said after they heard the front door close behind Hill.
“He worships Hamilton,” Malone said. “Most of the people who’ve worked for him do.
He’s a magnetic, powerful leader who’s transformed the bureau during his tenure as director.
If the DNA is a match, we’re going to get huge pushback from the Feds on this, so we have to make sure our Is are dotted and Ts are crossed every which way to next Tuesday. ”
“The proof will be in the DNA,” Skip said. “His many fans can’t quibble with a match.”
“Hill is right about one thing,” Sam said. “If it gets out that we’re looking at Troy Hamilton for kidnapping before we have proof, and it turns out to not be true, we’ll be screwed, glued and tattooed.”
“Let’s not allow that to happen,” Malone said.
Sam put up her hands. “I’m suspended. Not much I can do.”
“I want you on this behind the scenes,” Malone said, shocking the shit out of Sam. She hadn’t expected him to say that. “Josh Hamilton came to you once. Maybe he will again. If he does, you’re on the case.”
“And you’ll clear that with the brass?”
“I’ll take care of it.”
Sam’s phone rang and she glanced at the caller ID, starting when she saw Josh’s name pop up. “It’s him,” she said, as she flipped open the phone to take the call. “Holland.”
“It’s me,” a man said in a small voice. “Josh.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m close to your house.”
Sam began walking toward the front door, grabbing her coat off the chair in the living room before she went outside. “Come toward the Secret Service checkpoint, and I’ll meet you. We’ll bring you to my house where no one can touch you. I’ll personally guarantee your safety.”
If the Secret Service hadn’t turned her home into a fortress, she’d never consider bringing him there. But it was the second most secure home in the District and thus the best place for him right now.
After a long pause, she said, “Josh? Are you coming?”
“Yeah, I’ll come.”
“Good.” She expelled a deep sigh of relief.
“You’ll be surrounded by Secret Service.
No one will touch you.” Sam was kicking herself for taking him out of her house to begin with.
She should’ve let him stay there, even with the flu running rampant.
Oh well, hindsight is always twenty-twenty.
“Keep talking to me. Where are you now?”
“Seventh.”
“Two more blocks.” She was waved through the checkpoint and walked toward Seventh Street where she could see him in the distance.
Jogging as she held the phone to her ear, she covered a block in a matter of seconds.
When she reached his side, she slapped her phone closed and jammed it into her coat pocket.
“Come on,” she said, hooking her arm through his.
She couldn’t help but notice his eyes were red and raw, as if he’d been crying.
His clothes were dirty and disheveled, and one of the sleeves on his coat was torn.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” he said in a despondent tone. “He’s coming for me. I know he is.”
“You did the right thing calling me. I’ll keep you safe.”
“You have to tell the Secret Service not to let him in. If he finds out I’m with you, he’ll come here, and he’ll strong-arm them into letting him in.”
“They don’t let anyone in unless we ask them to, and we won’t let him in. I promise.”
At the checkpoint, Sam vouched for Josh since he didn’t have his ID on him. She noted the agent’s recognition of his name. The agent had probably seen the APB.
“Is everything all right, Mrs. Cappuano?” the agent asked warily.
“Everything is fine. I’d like some additional security posted at both ends of Ninth Street.”
“Any particular reason?”
“I want to make sure my guest feels as safe as possible.”
“Yes, ma’am. We’ll take care of it.”
“Thank you very much.” Taking Josh by the arm again, she led him to her house where Malone waited for them. Sam introduced Josh to him and the agent on duty admitted the three of them to the house.
Malone called HQ to cancel the APB for Josh.
Josh released an audible sigh of relief when the front door closed behind them. “Thank you,” he said softly.
“No problem. I should’ve kept you here to begin with. I’m sorry I didn’t.”
“You were—and are—under no obligation to protect me.”
“The minute I put you in my car on Friday, I’ve felt an obligation to protect you.” She gestured for him to have a seat on the sofa. “What happened to you after you left the hotel?”
“I wandered around for a while. I ended up in Rock Creek Park and fell down a hill. That’s how I got dirty.” He jumped back up and began to pace. “How long do I have to stay here? What happens now? Will someone tell my father to leave me alone?”
The rapid-fire questions, the jerky pacing and the trembling of his hands put Sam on alert. “Are you on something, Josh?”
He stopped short. “What? Why would you ask me that?”
“You’re extremely jittery.”
“My father, the director of the FBI, wants me dead. Wouldn’t you be jittery if you were me?”
“Is it possible you’re wrong about what he wants from you?” Malone asked.
“No, I’m not wrong.”
“Why do you say that?” Sam asked.
“Because he’s a ruthless bastard. If this is true, if he took me or paid someone else to do it or however it happened, he’ll kill me before he’ll admit to having had anything to do with it.”
“It won’t matter if he kills you now, Josh,” Malone said. “We've got your DNA. If it’s a match to Taylor Rollings’ family, then your father is going to have to answer to how you came to be in his custody, whether you’re alive or dead.”
Josh stopped pacing and turned to face Malone. “He… He doesn’t know I gave DNA.”
“I think it might be time for you to return his calls,” Sam said, playing a hunch.
“You’re sure that’s a good idea?” Josh asked.
“I’m sure it’ll send the message to your father that you’re cooperating with the investigation,” Sam said, “and that it won’t matter now what he does. We’ve got the info we need to make a connection to Taylor Rollings, if a connection does in fact exist.”
“He needs to know that,” Malone added. “It would also give you a chance to ask him if he knows anything about Taylor or his abduction.”
“If he does, he’ll deny it,” Josh said.
“Still won’t hurt to ask,” Malone said.
They waited for Josh to mull it over. He sat on the sofa, the frenetic energy of a few minutes ago giving way to a weary resignation.
After a long moment of silence, he withdrew his phone from his pocket and placed the call quickly, almost as if he was afraid to take even another second to think about it.
“Put it on speaker,” Malone said.
Josh did as he asked, and they listened to the phone ring and ring before voicemail picked up.
“This is Troy Hamilton. I can’t take your call right now, so please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
“Um, Dad, it’s me, Josh, calling you back. Call me when you get this message.” He ended the call and looked up at them. “What now?”
“Now we wait for him to return your call,” Malone said.