Chapter Sixteen #2
“We’re on it,” Cruz said, as Jeannie nodded in agreement.
“I also want to talk to the older son,” Sam said. “I’ll follow up with him today and find out what he wants us to do with the bodies when Lindsey releases them.”
“What about other employees of APG?” Cruz asked. “Maybe someone who lost their job after the meltdown or had a stake in something the company was doing that would’ve been adversely impacted by Armstrong going after Piedmont?”
“Definitely worth considering,” Sam said.
“We’ll take that angle,” Hill said. “And I’ll be having a conversation with Gorton, the third APG partner today. He’s been thoroughly interviewed in the past, but it never hurts to backtrack.”
“Very true. Nick and I are staying here today, fending off CFS from taking the kids out of our custody. If everyone could be back by four or report in by then, I’d appreciate it. I’ll update the brass on where we are.”
She’d no sooner said the words when the front door opened to admit Ms. Finklestein. Sam rolled her eyes at her team and got up. “That’ll be CFS,” she said. “Keep me posted, people.”
As the other officers filed out to see to their assignments, Sam walked over to greet Ms. Finklestein, who wore the same stony expression she’d sported earlier.
“Mrs. Cappuano, since I haven’t yet received a phone call from you, I trust the children are up and available for my visit?”
“Yes, ma’am. I was going to call you after they finished eating.
Right this way.” She led the woman into the kitchen, where Shelby had cheerful music playing on her phone, probably so there was no chance the meeting in the next room could be overheard.
She was seated at the table with Noah and the kids, who were coloring.
Sam would have to ask her later where she’d gotten the crayons and coloring books.
But for now, she gave silent thanks for the angel who was Shelby.
“Hey, guys,” Sam said, “this is Ms. Finklestein. She wanted to come by and see how you’re doing.”
Neither Aubrey nor Alden stopped what they were doing to greet her.
“May I?” Ms. Finklestein said of the fourth chair at the kitchen table.
“Please,” Sam said. The sooner she completed her “inspection” or whatever this was, the sooner they could be rid of her.
She sat and pulled out a notebook and pen. “What’re you coloring, Aubrey?”
“It’s a bird,” Aubrey said, too polite to add the word “duh” to the statement the way some kids would have. “And Alden is coloring a house.”
“I can see that. You’re both doing a very good job.”
“Coloring is easy.”
“How did you sleep last night?” Ms. Finklestein asked.
“Fine,” Aubrey said.
“How about you, Alden?”
Sam shook her head at the woman, hoping she’d get the message that he wouldn’t reply. “Alden was up during the night, but we were able to comfort him until he fell back to sleep.”
“I was hoping to hear from him,” Ms. Finklestein said pointedly.
“Alden has been very quiet since he came to stay with us,” Sam said, returning the pointed look. “We aren’t pushing him to do anything that makes him uncomfortable.”
Alden put down his crayon and turned toward Sam, who lifted him into her arms before taking his seat at the table. Moved by the trust he’d placed in her, she wrapped her arms around him and kissed the top of his head.
The kitchen door opened, and Tracy came in, bearing a bag of clothes. “Sorry that took so long.” Tracy stopped when she collided with Finklestein’s stony expression. “Oh, sorry to interrupt. I’ll be out there with Dad.” She backed out of the kitchen.
“There’re a lot of people in this household,” Finklestein said.
“Yes,” Sam said, “it’s the home of the vice president of the United States, which is protected by the United States Secret Service.
My husband and I are conducting business here today so we could be available when you returned.
That was my sister. She gathered some clothing for the children at my request and was bringing it to us.
Shelby is our assistant. She helps out with our son as needed, among many other things. Any questions?”
“I’m simply stating it’s a lot of activity for two children who’ve—”
Sam sent her the filthiest look she could muster. If the woman said it out loud, Sam would have her job.
Fortunately, Ms. Finklestein took the hint and kept her yap shut about what’d happened to the children. “What did you have for breakfast?” she asked Aubrey.
Did she think they hadn’t fed them? Sam seethed silently, which was so not her style. She far preferred to seethe out loud.
“Shelby made pancakes.” Aubrey concentrated on the bird’s wing, which she colored blue. Looking up at Shelby, Aubrey said, “Can I hold Noah again?”
“After his nap,” Shelby said, patting the sleeping baby’s back. “He’d love that.”
“Okay,” Aubrey said, returning to her work.
“If there’s nothing else,” Sam said, eager to move this along.
“I’d like to see the room where the children will be sleeping,” Finklestein said.
Sam wondered if she wanted a closer look at the vice president’s home. “Alden, would you like to finish your picture while I take Ms. Finklestein upstairs?”
Alden nodded, and Sam returned him to his seat, though he eyed Finklestein with thinly veiled distrust. He understood the threat she posed to whatever security he’d allowed himself to feel in their home, and that irked Sam greatly.
She glanced at Shelby, who nodded, indicating she’d be there with the kids.
“Mrs. Cappuano,” Nate said when Sam stepped into the living room with Ms. Finklestein. “Your sister and father said they were going to his home. Your sister left the bag she brought.” He pointed to the bag next to the front door.
“Thank you, Nate.” Wondering where Nick was, Sam led Ms. Finklestein upstairs to the guest room Nick had prepared for the children, which had gone unused the night before, not that she needed to know that.
There were probably reams of manuals that prevented children placed in emergency shelter from sharing beds with anyone, which made sense, until a child was alone and terrified and in need of comfort.
Then all bets were off. “We figured they’d prefer to be together, so we have them in here,” Sam said.
“And where are you in proximity to them?”
“Right there.” Sam pointed to their closed door.
“And our son’s room is there. Whenever Scotty is in residence, a Secret Service agent is positioned outside his bedroom door.
It would be good if someone could get into the Beauclairs’ house today to retrieve some of the children’s things.
I’m sure there are stuffed animals and other items that would bring them comfort at this difficult time.
” They had only the one stuffed animal that Aubrey had brought with her to the hospital.
“I’ll see what can be done about that.”
“And you’ll ask them what they’d like to have?”
“Of course.” After a pause, she said, “I’m not the enemy here, Mrs. Cappuano. I’m concerned only with what’s best for the children, and despite the trauma they’ve endured, they seem comfortable here.”
“We’ve done our best to make them comfortable.
They’re asking for their mother. We haven’t told them anything yet.
In the meantime, we’re answering their questions with vague responses.
We only got confirmation this morning that the fire victims were their parents.
I was hoping to consult with their older brother to get a feel for how best to handle telling them what’s happened to their parents. ”
“I’m going to recommend the children remain in your custody until permanent arrangements can be made for their long-term care.”
“Thank you.” Relief rippled through her, releasing tension in her neck, chest and shoulders.
Even her jaw ached. Later, when she had time to fully unpack the emotions swirling through her, she’d be able to better understand why it mattered so much that they got to keep—for now—two children she’d never met before yesterday.
At least she hoped she’d be able to make sense of it, because none of the emotions made sense to her in the moment.
She led Ms. Finklestein out of the room as Nick emerged from the room they used as a home gym. Wearing only gym shorts, he was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen, even dripping with sweat.
Ms. Finklestein, the poor thing, could only stare.
“Is everything all right?” he asked.
“Ms. Finklestein was saying the kids can stay with us until something more permanent can be worked out. Right, Ms. Finklestein?”
“Oh, um, yes.” She made an effort to look anywhere but at the sexiest vice president in history.
Nick hooked a towel around his neck. “That’s great news. We’ll make sure they’re very well cared for.”
“Excellent,” Finklestein said.
“We’ll let you grab a shower while we go downstairs to work out any logistics.” Sam gestured for the other woman to go ahead of her, then she waggled her brows at Nick, who rolled his eyes in response.
Sam led the other woman to the living room, which was now devoid of cops and FBI agents. They sat across from each other.
“He’s as nice as he seems on TV,” Ms. Finklestein said.
“Yes, he is, and he’s not hard to look at either.”
The other woman giggled. “No, he isn’t.” She shook her head, probably trying to stop thinking of her thirty seconds in the presence of the half-naked, sweaty, sexy vice president.
That would very likely be the image in her mind as she took her last breath in this life.
Sam had no doubt similar images of him would be among her final thoughts. “Anyway, about the children…”
“Yes, back to business.”
“I think it’s a good idea to speak to their brother about how he’d like things handled.”
“I agree. I’d like to ask him about next of kin.”
Sam relayed what the brother had told Avery the night before about Cleo’s family being afraid to take the kids because of the way his father and stepmother had died and the threat still posed by a former business associate.
“Well, there has to be someone.”
“We’ve only begun to scratch the surface of this case, so I’ll tell you what I know, and you can dig in further with the extended family.”
“That sounds like a plan.”