Chapter Nineteen
Sam and Freddie got into the tricked-out black BMW that was a gift from her husband after the inaugural takedown had quadrupled the attention focused on her. The car was outfitted with every possible safety feature, as well as supplies for three days off the grid if it ever came to that.
Sam drove the short distance to the building that housed the Court Services and Offender Supervision Agency for the District of Columbia, the federal agency responsible for overseeing adults on probation, parole and supervised release.
Peter had been on supervised probation following the altercation outside her home the night before her wedding when he’d violated the no-contact order she had against him and pulled a gun on her.
She shuddered as she recalled that incident. Even after all this time, she could still remember every detail.
“Going somewhere?” he’d asked.
Shit. “What’re you doing here, Peter?” At the sight of her ex-husband, her heart beat fast and her breath came out in white, puffy clouds in the cold. She began to shiver.
“I want to talk to you.”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“I have something to say to you, and it’s high time you listened to me.”
“Get out of here before I have your ass thrown back in jail for violating the no-contact order.”
She started to push past him, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her tight against him.
“Let go of me, or I swear to God I’ll cripple you.”
He pushed something hard against her ribs. “Don’t make any fast moves, sweetheart, or your family will be attending a funeral rather than a wedding.”
Sam cursed herself for being so stupid as to go out unarmed. She glanced up at the second floor of their house, where Nick was hopefully sleeping, unaware that she was in grave danger on the eve of their wedding. “What do you want?” she asked through gritted teeth.
“That’s more like it.” His lips brushed against her hair, and it was all Sam could do not to cringe. “You’re making a big mistake marrying that guy.”
“Is that so?”
“He doesn’t love you the way you deserve to be loved—the way I love you.”
Sam swallowed hard. “Peter, please. Let me go and get out of here before someone sees you and carts you back to jail.”
“There’s nowhere they can take me that’s worse than living without you.”
Sam swallowed hard. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”
“Are you really?”
“Of course I am. I never wanted you to be unhappy.”
“Then why did you leave me?”
Sam wanted to shove her elbow into his gut but the press of metal against her ribs kept her still. “I want you to let me go now. You need to find someone who loves you the way you deserve to be loved—”
“I don’t want anyone else,” he growled in her ear, tightening his hold on her to the point of pain. “What about that don’t you get?”
The click of a gun engaging sounded next to them.
“Let her go, and step back.”
“Who the hell are you?” Peter asked.
“Doesn’t matter who I am. You need to let her go right now unless you want me to make roadkill out of you.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Sam saw the lights go on in their place as she tried unsuccessfully to place the voice of her rescuer.
“This is not over,” Peter had whispered in her ear. “It’ll never be over.”
Well, it’s over now, Sam thought. Peter had pleaded to a misdemeanor harassment charge as well as a felony weapon charge and had been given three years’ supervised probation rather than the jail time he’d deserved.
Only the fact that Nick had paid someone to watch over her had saved her life that night.
Peter had managed to slide through the system like a slippery eel, getting less than he deserved in the way of punishment.
Brendan Sullivan, Peter’s probation officer, worked in a cubicle on the second floor. The young man seemed frazzled by the huge piles of manila folders that avalanched across his desk.
Sam flashed her badge.
Before she could introduce herself, he said, “I know who you are and why you’re here.”
She respected people who cut through the bullshit and got to the point.
“I made a copy of his file for you.”
“Now, see, Detective Cruz, this is the sort of cooperation we deserve and rarely get.”
“What do they say about busy people being the most efficient?” Brendan asked, grinning up at them.
“I’d like to have reason to interview you every day,” Sam said.
“Now you’ve done it,” Freddie said.
They shared a laugh at her expense, and Brendan gestured for them to take the two visitor chairs in his tiny cubicle. “About your guy Gibson…”
“He wasn’t my guy,” Sam said. “Not anymore.”
“Right, but he was still extremely hung up on you. He talked about you a lot. I encouraged him to move on, but he seemed stuck. It was a point of contention between us.”
“You’re preaching to the choir,” Sam said.
“Separate from that, he did seem to be making an effort to get back on track. He was enjoying his new job at the mattress store and making some new friends.”
“Were you aware that he was part of several ongoing poker games?”
“No, I wasn’t.” Brendan’s expression hardened ever so slightly, enough that Sam picked up on it. “He was well aware that gambling of any kind was a probation violation.”
“If I were to give you a few names, perhaps you could check to see if any of them are in the active case file for your office.”
“And if they are?”
“They could possibly be brought in and compelled to tell us anything and everything they know about our friend Peter in exchange for no further action taken on the violations.”
“I might be able to arrange that.” He booted up his computer. “Who’ve you got?”
Sam gave him the names of Donny Bautista and Dwayne Rogers.
“Nothing for Bautista but Rogers is in our system, six months to go on probation for a misdemeanor weapons charge.”
“We spoke to him yesterday but didn’t get much. I’m thinking with only six months left to go, he might cooperate more with you guys than he did with us.”
Brendan stood. “Let me have a word with my boss. I’ll be right back.”
“I like him,” Sam said when she and Freddie were alone.”
“That’s two people today that you’ve liked, more than all last year.”
Sam tried not to let him see her amusement. “What can I say? People usually piss me off.”
While she had a minute, she checked her phone, hoping for word from either Nick or Shelby. She fired off a text to Avery.
Are you with Shelby? Any news?
He responded right away. I’m at the hospital, but she won’t let me in the room. They just took her to delivery.
Sam’s heart broke at the thought of Shelby giving birth without anyone she loved by her side.
Keep me posted.
Will do.
What a fucking mess.
“Everything okay?” Freddie asked, looking up from his phone.
“Shelby’s in labor.”
“Oh, wow. That’s exciting.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s hard for you,” he said, “to have another baby coming into your world.”
Sam didn’t bother to tell him that Shelby had quit, because she still hoped she could talk her out of that. “It’s not as bad as it was before we adopted Scotty.”
“That’s good. I’m glad.”
Brendan returned and took a seat behind his desk. “My boss is on board. We’ll set something up with Rogers and let you know if we get anything.”
Sam handed over her business card. “My cell number is on the back. Appreciate the assist and the unprecedented cooperation.”
“Anytime,” Sullivan said.
“What’s next?” Freddie asked as they took the stairs to the main floor.
“We need to see McTavish, and then I want to talk to Peter’s mother again.”
“You do? Really?”
“She may know something that could help and not realize it. I want to go through her last few conversations with Peter and see if she can give us any insight. Call Lindsey and find out if Irma told her where she’d be staying.”
“Got it.”
“While we’re in the neighborhood, I want to see Will.”
The other detectives had teased Will about living within walking distance of HQ, but that made things convenient now. While Freddie talked to Lindsey, Sam pulled the BMW into traffic and dodged an oncoming car that drifted over the centerline.
“Freaking texting while driving,” she said.
“Who is?”
“The guy who almost hit us head-on.”
“How’d I miss that?”
“Your love affair with your smartphone. You’re missing life’s finer details.”
“If you say so,” he said with a dirty-sounding chuckle.
“Ew, don’t be gross. Talk to me about Will. How should I play this?”
Freddie stared at her, mouth agog.
“Shut your mouth!”
“You’re asking me for management advice? Pardon me while I enjoy this moment.”
“When you get done enjoying it, maybe you can answer the question?”
“Truthfully? If I were you, I wouldn’t try to talk him out of it.”
“You’ve changed your tune.”
“I was talking to Elin about it last night, and she helped me to see that Will is doing what’s best for him even if it’s not what’s best for us.”
“Elin is very wise.”
“You and I…we could never imagine leaving the job. It’s hard for us to understand how someone might make that decision.”
Sam parked on the 900 block of G Street and then thought about what he’d said for a minute.
“It’s possible,” she said haltingly, “that you and I haven’t yet experienced the thing that could drive us from the job.
If, for example, something were to happen to you, I might lose my taste for it, you know? ”
He studied her for a long moment. “And vice versa. Under those conditions, I guess it would make sense.”
After they got out of the car, Sam said, “Let’s hope we never have to make the kind of decision Will made.”
“I knew you loved me,” he said, low enough that she might’ve missed it if she hadn’t been expecting it.
“I never said that.”
“Yes, you did.”
“When did I say that?”
“You said it.”
“Pipe down.” Sam rang the doorbell.
“You said it.”
She caught him in the ribs with her elbow.
Freddie gasped from the impact and then laughed.
The door opened, and Will seemed surprised to see them. “Hey,” he said, “come in.”
“Hope we’re not disturbing you,” Sam said.
“No, not at all. It’s good to see you guys. You want coffee?”