Chapter Twelve #2
“This whole thing is fucking crazy. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do, but now I’ve got a homicide to contend with, and it’s going to be the hottest case we’ve had in years.”
“Which is saying something,” he muttered. “I don’t want him alone with Scotty.”
“Okay.”
“One night, Samantha, and then he’s out of here. Are we clear?”
“Yes, thank you. I agree that I need to figure out something else for him, and I’ll take care of that as fast as I can. I promise.”
“I want to bring Brant in on what’s going on. He can’t protect us if he doesn’t know.”
She hesitated as she considered that. It was her natural tendency to keep things to herself, but Nick was right.
Brant couldn’t do his job without all the information, and since Brant’s job was to protect the two most important people in her life, she nodded.
“Fair enough.” She went up on tiptoes to kiss him.
“I love you. I’m sorry I brought this situation into our home, and I’m sorry I had to say no to you for the first time ever. ”
His lips curved into a small, sexy smile. “You’ll make it up to me.” He leaned in close to brush his lips against her ear. “On your back, with your legs on my shoulders, your ass red from my hand and—”
“Stop it,” she said, shivering from the desire that instantly heated her core. “Right now. I’ve got to go to work.”
Chuckling, he released her. “Hurry home, and be careful out there, Samantha. Whoever decided to kill the FBI director won’t think twice about killing again.”
“I’m always careful. Don’t worry.”
“Right. You may as well tell me not to breathe.”
“Don’t do that. I need you alive and well when I get home so I can make it up to you.”
“It’s not fair. You’re suspended and you still have to work. I was sort of looking forward to having you all to myself for a few days. Should’ve known it was too much to hope for. But you’ll pay. Yes, you will. When you get home and when we get to Bora Bora at the end of the month. You will pay.”
Smiling, she kissed him again. “Can’t wait.”
“Me either.” He stole another kiss from her. “Love you so much. Please be careful.”
“I will. I promise. Hold down the fort, and keep an eye on our guest.” She patted his chest one last time and left the kitchen, deciding in that moment to keep the news about Troy from Josh until she knew more.
They’d keep it on lockdown so there was no way he’d hear it online or anywhere else until they were ready to release the news.
In the living room, Scotty and Josh were playing a driving game on the Xbox, racing through winding mountain roads.
“I have to go out for a while,” Sam said as she put on her coat. “I’ll see you guys in the morning.”
“Bye, Mom,” Scotty said without taking his eyes off the screen.
“Yeah, bye,” Josh said with equal focus on the game.
Sam had spent most of her career dealing with murderers, and if Josh had murdered his father, he was being awfully calm in the aftermath.
Most of the time, a regular person who was driven to kill would be agitated, nervous, afraid of being caught.
She’d seen none of that behavior in Josh.
If he’d had anything to do with his father’s murder, he was doing a hell of a job of hiding it.
On the way down the ramp, she took a call from Freddie.
“We got called to a homicide in Northwest,” he said.
“I know. I’m on my way.”
“I thought you were suspended.”
“I am.”
“Ahhh,” he said with a chuckle. “I see.”
“This is big, Freddie. It’s Hamilton.”
Gasping, he said, “Josh?”
“No, Troy.”
“Holy smokes.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of holy fucking shit myself.”
“Yeah. That, too. You don’t think… Josh…”
“I don’t know, but Nick mentioned that possibility. He showed up disheveled earlier and said he’d fallen in Rock Creek Park. I didn’t see anything on him that looked like blood, and a murder like this would’ve been messy. But he certainly had motive.”
“This is the weirdest case ever.”
“And it’s getting a whole lot weirder.”
“No kidding. See you there.”
“On my way.” She pressed on the accelerator, dodging what little traffic there was at that hour on a Sunday and headed for the city’s Northwest corner. On the way, she placed a call to Lindsey McNamara.
“Hey, I was going to call you,” Lindsey said. “I got word that the DNA results are back. What do you want me to do with them?”
“Email them to me?”
“Will do.”
“We’ve got a body,” she said, giving Lindsey the address. “And not just any body. It’s FBI Director Hamilton.”
“Oh my God.”
“I know, and you’re probably not on call but I want you on this one. Can you come?”
“Yes, of course. I’ll call in my team and meet you there.”
“We’re keeping a tight lid on this for obvious reasons.”
“Where’s his son?”
“On lockdown at my house. He’s been there for hours, but was in the wind for a period of time earlier today. I’m going to be very interested in the time of death.”
“Are you on the case? I thought you were off.”
“I am, but Malone called me in. See you in a few.”
Not surprisingly, the Hamiltons resided in one of the swankier areas of the city, and the street was lined with cars and emergency vehicles by the time Sam arrived and pulled in behind Freddie’s rattletrap Mustang. The neighbors had begun to wander out to see what was going on.
Sam walked down the long driveway to the huge porch where Freddie greeted her. “We’ve got gawkers out there,” she said. “Get Patrol here to set up a perimeter.”
“Already done.”
“Someone trained you right.”
“Yeah, I can’t remember the name of the guy, but he did a good job.”
“Yes, she did.” She followed him inside, through a foyer that was the size of her first apartment after the academy, into a sitting room that led to the office where Hamilton lay in a pool of blood, a golf club on the floor next to him.
His face was unrecognizable, which seemed deliberate, as if the killer had wanted to erase his identity.
Avery Hill stood watch over his director, arms crossed, expression tense. When he looked at her, however, Sam saw the despair. Hill had worshiped this man, and his death had hit the agent hard.
“Any sign of forced entry?” Sam asked, sensing that engaging Hill in the investigation would help.
“Not that I could see, but I didn’t do a full search. The front door was ajar when I arrived.”
Sam glanced at Freddie, and he nodded, leaving the room to see to her unspoken order to do a full search of the premises to make sure no one else was in the house.
She squatted for a closer look at the victim and noted the blow that had caved in the side of his skull and likely ended his life.
Lindsey would confirm that, but in cases like this, it didn’t take an autopsy to determine a cause of death.
“You touch anything?” she asked Hill.
He shook his head. “I used my shoulder to push open the door and the only thing I’ve touched since I got here was my phone to call you.”
The rest of her team began to arrive—Dominguez and Carlucci, McBride and Tyrone and then Lindsey, Malone and Farnsworth.
Freddie returned. “Clear,” he said of the rest of the house.
“Where’s Gonzo?” she asked in a low tone that only he could hear.
“Not here.”
“Call him.” To the others, she said, “Listen up. Our victim is FBI Director Troy Hamilton.”
Her announcement was greeted with shocked expressions and gasps of surprise.
“Wait,” Tyrone said. “Weren’t we looking for his son earlier today?”
“You were,” Sam said. “Here’s what we know so far.” She began with her encounter with Josh on Friday and quickly took them through the sequence of events over the weekend that had culminated with Avery finding Hamilton’s body an hour ago.
“What brought you here, Agent Hill?” Malone asked while the others processed what Sam had told them.
“After I saw you and Lieutenant Holland earlier and you informed me about what was happening with the director’s son, I went home and tried to wrap my head around the possibility that the director could’ve been involved in a kidnapping of all things.
After a couple of hours, I realized I needed to see him, to talk to him, to try to get to the bottom of what was going on. So I came here.”
He paused before he continued, seeming to gather his thoughts.
“I rang the bell and knocked on the door, which was ajar. When no one answered, I nudged the door with my shoulder and stepped inside, calling for the director. I noticed a lamp on the floor in the room to my right and went in for a closer look. I’ve been here before, so I knew where the director’s home office was located.
Upon approach to the doorway, I saw his foot on the floor and then the rest of his body in a pool of blood.
I called the lieutenant after confirming he was dead. ”
“Did you touch him?” Farnsworth asked.
“I didn’t need to. It was obvious he was long gone.”
Lindsey McNamara’s team arrived in a flurry of activity and began to prepare Hamilton’s body for transport to the morgue.
“Who was his next of kin?” Sam asked Avery.
“His wife, I suppose.”
Sam withdrew the notebook she carried with her from her back pocket. “What’s her name?”
“Courtney. He also has three children—Josh, Mark and Maura. Only Josh is local. Mark lives in Chicago and Maura is in Boston.”
“Where might we find Courtney?” Sam asked.
“I have no idea.” He met her gaze. “You could ask Josh.”
“I suppose we’ll have to.”
“Is he a suspect?” Freddie asked.
“Doc, can you tell how long he’s been dead?” Sam asked Lindsey.
“I’m guessing until I get him back to the lab, but upon visual inspection, I’d say it’s been hours.”
To Freddie, Sam said, “I don’t know if he’s a suspect, but he was off the grid for a period of hours, during which time his father was murdered. I’d say we need to have a conversation with him about exactly where he went after he left the hotel.”
“He was scared shitless that his father was going to kill him,” Freddie said. “I find it hard to believe he would’ve come anywhere near here.”
“Or maybe he wanted us to think he was scared shitless so we wouldn’t look at him for this.”
“I suppose that’s possible,” Freddie conceded.
“All I know,” Sam said, “is we can’t rule him out for this, and right now he’s with my husband and son. I’m going home.”
“I’m going with you,” Avery said.
“Let’s make it a party,” Farnsworth added.
“Cruz, wait for Crime Scene and then you can join us at the lieutenant’s home,” Malone said.
“Yes, sir.”
“The rest of you start a canvass,” Sam said. “See if the neighbors report anything suspicious.”
Murmurs of “yes, ma’am” preceded their departure.
“Did you reach Gonzo?” Sam asked Freddie.
“Right to voicemail.”
She was going to have to hunt down her sergeant tomorrow and figure out what to do for him before his grief fucked up his once-promising career.
She took a final look around the director’s study, noting the desktop devoid of clutter the way Nick’s was, the framed photos on the wall of the director with presidents, world leaders and other luminaries, the awards, the certificates, the accolades.
The room was like a shrine to his career, but nowhere among the pomp or pageantry did she see a photo of his wife or family.
Interesting. The first thing anyone would notice on her husband’s desk was the gorgeous, intimate photo from their wedding and a second one of them with their son. There would be no doubt of where his priorities lie.