Chapter Thirty-One
Things moved slower when SWAT was involved, and it took almost two hours to get all the players in place surrounding Baker’s Marshall Heights townhouse.
They cordoned off the block so no one could come in, evacuated the houses closest to their target and told the other nearby neighbors to shelter in place.
They worked in almost-total silence so as not to alert their target that they were coming for him.
Since Klein was hiding out, they weren’t afraid of him trying to leave. They took their time to get it right and to ensure the safety of everyone in the area.
Captain Nickleson, the SWAT commander, came over to Sam. “We’re ready when you are.”
“Do it.”
Because they knew Klein was in there, it’d been decided that SWAT would breach the house through every available door and window at the same time to take him completely by surprise and lessen the possibility of him firing on them.
Hopefully, they’d have him neutralized before he could reach for his gun.
That was the goal, anyway. There were a million ways things like this could go sideways.
Nickleson gave the order, and Sam held her breath watching the synchronized way in which the SWAT team moved in. The sound of glass breaking shattered the silence.
One by one, team members reported in with areas of the house that had been cleared until the one report they’d wanted most was delivered: “Target located and neutralized.”
“Got him,” Nickleson said euphorically, moving toward the front door to be there when his team brought Klein out in shackles.
Klein’s dark hair stood on end, his face was unshaven, and he wore only boxer shorts. He kept his head down.
“Got him out of bed, sir,” one of the officers said, handing over a large cooler with a shoulder strap. “He had this on the bed with him.”
Donning gloves, Sam opened the cooler to find stacks of cash that would probably add up to a hundred thousand dollars.
“Well done,” Nickleson said.
“We’ll take it from here,” Sam said, nodding to Cruz and Green to take their prisoner. “Thanks for the assist, Cap.”
“Always happy to help take another scumbag off the streets,” Nickleson said.
“This one is particularly scummy,” Sam said, watching as Cruz and Green loaded him into the back of a Patrol car for the ride to HQ.
They’d gotten him. That’s all that mattered to her, but along with the arrest came the realization that she no longer had a reason to keep Aubrey and Alden in her custody.
They could safely be released to family members, which tempered the elation she normally experienced at closing a difficult case.
She trudged back to her car, where she sat in silence for a long time before she opened her phone to call Ms. Finklestein.
When the woman answered, Sam said, “I wanted to let you know that we’ve closed the case, and we’re confident we have the men who killed the Beauclairs in custody.
The family members will also want to know that Mr. Beauclair’s former business partner, Duke Piedmont, has been apprehended and is in federal custody on insider trading and other charges.
He’s been cleared of any involvement in the deaths of Mr. and Mrs. Beauclair. ”
“Congratulations, Lieutenant. The entire city will breathe easier knowing the men who carried out this heinous crime have been caught.”
“Thank you,” Sam said, feeling hollow in her victory.
“Mrs. Beauclair’s sister and brother-in-law are due to arrive early this evening. As you can imagine, they will be eager to see the children.”
Sam had nothing to say to that. They hadn’t been eager to see the children when their parents were first killed, but now that there was no threat of danger, they’d be right there for them, not to mention the billions of dollars that would come with them.
Sam was prepared to hate these people on sight.
“That’s fine,” she said. “What’re their full names?
I’ll alert the Secret Service that you’ll be bringing them by.
“Monique and Robert Lawson.”
Sam wrote down the names.
“I know it’ll be difficult for you to say goodbye to the children,” Ms. Finklestein said, “but we find that children in these circumstances do better when they’re placed with family members.”
Sam wanted to demand that she produce the evidence to back up that statement. What did “do better” mean? Better than what? But she didn’t ask the questions that burned the tip of her tongue. Instead she said, “We’ll make sure they’re ready.”
An hour later, she stood outside the main entrance to HQ briefing the media on what had transpired Monday afternoon and evening at the Beauclairs’ Chevy Chase home, and the steps taken to apprehend the two men responsible for the murders of Jameson and Cleo Armstrong.
For the first time, Sam made the couple’s true identity public, running through a condensed version of why the couple had relocated and changed their names.
“In addition to the arrests of Mr. Baker and Mr. Klein, the FBI has apprehended the former business partner of Mr. Armstrong.
Duke Piedmont had been a fugitive from justice for more than three years after being charged with insider trading and other crimes associated with APG, the former company owned by the two men.
After she had run through a summary of the details of the case, the reporters began peppering her with questions about the investigation, the men they had charged with murder, arson, aggravated assault, sexual assault, kidnapping and other charges.
She answered each question that came her way, giving as much information as she could without compromising the case.
“What will happen to the Armstrongs’ two minor children?” Darren Tabor asked.
“Social Services is working with Mrs. Armstrong’s extended family to place them with family members.” Sam felt detached as she said the words, as if she didn’t have a personal stake in what became of the children. It was time to start taking a step back from the “littles,” as Nick had called them.
After she’d dealt with the media, she went back inside to oversee the completion of the paperwork. As she reviewed the reports that her team had generated, the words began to swim the way they did when she was tired or stressed. Sam closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, as exhaustion swooped in.
What a week, and it was still only Wednesday.
She took a deep breath and let it out before picking up the phone to call Nick.
“Hey, babe,” he said. “I saw your press conference.”
“Sorry you had to hear about us closing the case on TV. Everything happened fast.”
“No worries. I’m glad it’s done for the sake of everyone involved.”
“Yeah.”
“You okay?”
“Never better. Ms. Finklestein will be bringing the aunt and uncle to get the kids at some point this evening. Can you ask the Secret Service to put their names on the list? Monique and Robert Lawson.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“This blows,” she said, sighing.
“Yeah, it does, but we’re going to be okay, Samantha. Maybe the aunt and uncle will allow us to keep in touch with the kids.”
“That’d be nice,” she said, feeling sadder by the minute. “I’ll be home soon. Just tying up a few loose ends here.”
“We’ll be waiting for you.”
“That’s the only thing getting me through this day. See you soon.” As she ended the call with Nick, Lindsey appeared in her doorway.
“Good news from the lab,” Lindsey said. “Baker was a match for DNA found on a glass and fork at the scene.”
“That’s very good news.”
“I took a sample from Klein and have sent it to the lab with orders to expedite.”
“Thanks, Lindsey.”
“Knowing what he’d done to those poor people, it was all I could do not to stab him in the eye while I had him.”
“I know that feeling.”
“Lieutenant!”
The shout from the pit had Sam standing and rushing toward Cameron Green’s cubical, with Lindsey right behind her.
Over Green’s shoulder, she watched the long-awaited security video from the bank where Klein had taken Cleo to get the money.
She watched as he stood by her side while the teller counted stacks of money, turning them over one at a time to Cleo, who put them in the tote bags she had brought with her.
Seeing her lovely and alive and terribly afraid touched Sam deeply.
Klein stood close enough to her that Sam deduced he had a gun on her the entire time.
Every thirty or so seconds, Cleo stretched her neck to look out to the parking lot, no doubt trying to check on her children, who were in the car with Baker.
“How could the teller not know something was wrong?” Sam asked, shaking her head.
“She did know,” Green said. “The manager refused to allow her to call it in because he didn’t want to deal with the hassle from their corporate office. She’s a single mom who needs the job, so she did what she was told, but she feels awful about it.”
“I want the manager charged with failing to report a crime in progress,” Sam said.
“I’d be happy to file those charges,” Green said.
Sam glanced at Jeannie, who was wiping away tears as she watched the video. As a sexual assault survivor, the case had no doubt brought up a lot of difficult memories for Jeannie.
Sam hugged her.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. Don’t ever apologize.” To the others, she said, “This was a tough one, people. If you need help, please ask for it. You all did great work, as usual. Detective Cruz, you’re done for the week.
Go on home and enjoy every minute of your wedding weekend.
We’re looking forward to helping you and Elin celebrate. ”
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” he said with a warm smile.
“The rest of you can go as soon as the reports are filed. Let’s get this wrapped up.”
Sam was almost home when she received a call from Ms. Finklestein.
“There’s been a development,” the other woman said, sounding stressed.
“What kind of development?” Sam asked, immediately on edge.