Chapter Seventeen #2
They arrived at the Emergency entrance at the George Washington Hospital Center, which Sam often joked was her home away from home. They were forever patching up her or a member of her team—and only yesterday, they’d patched up Nick.
Chief Farnsworth was with several Patrol officers when Sam ran in with Nick and Elin by her side. She went right to the chief. “What do we know?”
“He was still unconscious when we arrived, and we’re waiting to hear more.”
Hearing Freddie was still unresponsive, Elin covered her mouth to hold back her sobs.
Sam put an arm around Elin and held her while she cried.
They waited a long time until a doctor came through the doors looking for the family of Frederico Cruz.
“I’m his family,” Elin said. “We all are.”
“He’s awake and asking for Elin and Sam.”
“That’s us,” Elin said.
“Right this way.”
They followed the doctor into the cubicle area. When Elin saw Freddie in bed, his eyes open and alert, she rushed to his side, all but crawling onto the bed to get closer to him.
He put the arm without the IV around her. “I’m okay, honey.”
Overwhelmed by relief at the sound of his voice, Sam studied his pale face and the abrasion on his forehead. He met her gaze over Elin’s head.
“What can you tell me?”
“Happened fast. We were at the light and they surrounded us. They were heavily armed, so I didn’t try anything.”
“You did the right thing.”
“Where’s Josh?”
“He wasn’t in the house. We’re looking for him now.”
“What the hell is this, Sam?”
“I don’t know, but we’re sure as hell going to find out.”
Before she left Freddie in the capable hands of Elin and his parents, Sam sent a text to her entire squad letting them know he was on the mend and would be spending the night in the hospital.
They were watching him for a possible concussion.
He didn’t remember anything after a blow to the head knocked him out shortly after he was shoved into the van.
I’m asking everyone who’s available to be at my house at zero seven hundred to work this case. I can’t go to you, but you can come to me and bring me everything you’ve got. It’s your call to come or not. This is not an order.
One after the other, her squad members replied with relief to hear that Freddie was okay and to say they’d be there in the morning. The only one she didn’t hear from was Gonzo, but at least she knew why.
Confident that Freddie was in good hands and that a plan was in place to manage the case, Sam went to find Nick. He was sitting in the waiting room with the chief. They stood when they saw her coming.
“How is he?” Nick asked.
“He’s got one hell of a headache, and they’re keeping him for observation, but he’s going to be fine.”
“Thank God for that,” Farnsworth said.
“Yes, thank goodness,” Nick said.
Every set of eyes in the busy waiting room was on them. It was still unnerving the way they were recognized everywhere they went. Of course the Secret Service agents sprinkled throughout the room didn’t help to lower their profile.
“We can go home,” Sam said, eager to get away from the prying eyes.
“Look,” the chief said, pointing to the TV in the corner. Malone was briefing the press, so they moved closer so they could hear.
“At approximately eighteen thirty, Troy Hamilton, director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, was found dead in his Northwest home. The MPD is working the case in cooperation with federal authorities. We’ll release more information in the director’s murder as it becomes available.”
“How does this relate to the APB that was issued earlier for Hamilton’s son?” one reporter asked.
“We’re looking into the connections,” Malone said.
“What happened with Detective Cruz earlier?” Darren Tabor asked.
“How does he know everything?” Sam asked.
“Detective Cruz and a passenger were taken hostage by a group of armed men who are now in custody. Detective Cruz has been located and is receiving medical attention.”
“Was this related to the director’s murder?”
“We don’t know.”
“And the passenger?” Darren asked.
“Dogged little bastard,” Sam muttered.
“We’re looking for the passenger.”
“Who was the passenger?” another reporter asked.
“We’re not releasing that information at this time. I’ll have more for you in the morning. That’s it for now.”
When the local anchors came back on, the FBI director’s murder was the top story.
“Mr. Vice President,” Brant said. “We’re ready.”
“Sam?”
She took his outstretched hand. “Let’s go.”
They rode home in silence, the comfortable kind of silence, the kind in which no words were required.
She needed only the heat of his body next to hers to feel grounded, to clear her mind, to think through the case from all angles.
There were times, especially on days like this one, when she wondered how she’d managed to function before she had him and the calming effect he had on her in her life.
“Thanks for coming with me to the hospital,” she said.
“Nowhere else I’d rather be than wherever you are. Sorry it’s always such a production.”
“I’m all for keeping you safe. Whatever it takes.”
“Sometimes it’s too much for me. It really is. I feel like a circus animal locked behind the gilded cage.”
“It’s an adjustment. In a year, it’ll be old hat, and you’ll be used to it.”
“I hope so, because four months in, I’m ready to break out and run for it.”
“Don’t you dare.”
His low chuckle made her smile. “Reminds me of the first time I wore a tie and felt like it was literally choking me to death. I couldn’t stop touching it, looking for relief.”
Because he seemed to need the distraction and because Brant was riding in the front seat, Sam cupped Nick’s groin. “I know that feeling. I can’t stop touching it, looking for relief.”
His bright smile lit up his eyes. “Are you trying to change the subject, my love?”
“Trying to get your mind off the confinement. Is it working?”
“You tell me.”
“Hmm,” she said, stroking him through his jeans until he was hard as a rock under her hand. “It seems to be having the desired effect. A whole different kind of confinement.”
“If you build it, you must tend to it.”
“Is that a rule?”
“A new rule.”
She glanced at the front seat and then tugged at the button to his jeans.
He stopped her with a hand over hers. “Not here.”
“Come on. They’ll never know.”
“Not here.”
She made a pout face at him. “You’re absolutely no fun.”
“You know otherwise.” He kept his hand over hers, pressing her palm against his hard length. “I’m feeling terribly depressed and confined. I need you to take my mind off my troubles the minute we get home.”
“The minute?”
“The very second we walk in the door.”
“Someone ought to warn poor Shelby.”