Chapter Eighteen #2
“I’d never take them away from you guys after all you’ve done for them—and for me. My goal is to find a job in DC so I can help out, spend time with them and be part of their lives. Maybe they can spend some weekends with me or something like that.”
Nick took a deep breath and closed his eyes. That was a plan he and Sam could live with. “That’d be perfect.”
“I know how easy they are to love.”
“They really are. Don’t you have class at one?”
Eli laughed. “Yeah, I do. You sound like my dad.”
“Well, get going. You don’t want to be late.”
“I’m walking as we talk. I’ll let you go. Tell the kids I’ll call them before bed.”
“They’ll look forward to it. Take care, Eli.”
After he ended the call, Nick composed a text to Sam, giving her the gist of their conversation.
Sam and Freddie watched Nick on the TV in the conference room, her stomach churning the entire time, waiting to see how the reporters would react. She breathed an audible sigh of relief when he stepped away from the podium.
“He handled that well,” Freddie said. “But that’s no surprise. He’s exceptionally good at this stuff.”
“Yes, he is. Way better than I am.”
“You said that, not me.”
She laughed. “It goes without saying that he’s far more diplomatic than I’ll ever be.”
Freddie snorted and then covered it with a cough. “Yes, he is.”
She elbowed him in the ribs. “Quit laughing at me right to my face.”
“How else should I laugh at you?”
“Laughing at your superior officer isn’t the best career move you can make.”
Her phone dinged with a text from Nick, telling her about his conversation with Eli. She read it twice, thrilled with what she was seeing as she typed her reply to him. Well, that’s a big fat fucking relief.
My gorgeous wife has a way with words. I can live with that plan. Can you?
Hell, yes.
See? It’s all working out the way it’s meant to.
I’m so happy that we’ll get to see them grow up.
Me, too, babe. Back to work for both of us. See you later.
Love you.
Love you, too. xoxo
She no sooner sent the text when her cell rang with a number she didn’t recognize. “Holland.”
“Hey, it’s Kevin Viera. Branson said you were by and wanted to talk to me?”
“Yes, thanks for calling.”
“No problem. I was at the gym so I just got his text. What can I do for you?”
“We’re taking another look at my dad’s case with fresh leads coming into the tip line.”
“I was sorry to hear he’d passed. He was a good man.”
“Yes, he was. Thank you. One of my colleagues mentioned the messenger bag he used to carry back and forth to work, and I realized I’d forgotten about it in all the chaos after the shooting.
I know it was a long time ago, but I wondered if you have any recollection of there being a beat-up leather bag at the scene of his shooting? ”
After a long period of silence, he said, “Was it brown leather?”
“Yeah.” Sam held her breath.
“I remember it. After he was taken from the scene, I found it on the street, realized it belonged to Chief Holland and grabbed it so it wouldn’t get lost.”
Sam’s mouth had gone dry, her hands were sweaty and her legs wobbly. She dropped into a seat at the conference room table while Freddie stood with his hands on his hips, watching over her. “What did you do with it?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“I gave it to Conklin and asked him to get it to the family.”
Like Alice falling into wonderland, Sam felt like a trapdoor had opened beneath her, sending her hurtling through space.
“He gave it to you, right?”
“No, he didn’t.” She forced herself to take a deep breath and do what needed to be done. “Listen, I know you just got off an overnight shift, but I need you to come to HQ right now. Immediately. Can you do that?”
“Ah, yeah. I guess. I’ll be right there.”
Sam closed her phone. “Go get Farnsworth and Malone. Hurry.”
“Sam—”
“Go.”
He went.
Sam took a series of deep breaths as the words holy fucking shit ran through her mind on continuous repeat.
She’d found someone who could not only put Conklin at the scene of her father’s shooting, but who could attest that he’d given Conklin the messenger bag that should’ve been returned to Skip’s family and never was.
What the actual fuck is going on?
She continued to force air into lungs that felt compressed by the weight of the information that had landed on her in the last few minutes.
Malone came rushing into the room. “What?”
“I’ve got a first responder who can put Conklin at the scene of my dad’s shooting, and who says he gave Conklin my dad’s messenger bag to return to the family after my dad was transported.”
Malone stared at her, not blinking or seeming to breathe as he absorbed what she’d said.
Freddie returned with Farnsworth a minute later, and Sam told the chief the latest.
For a long, awful moment Farnsworth stood perfectly still, his sharp gray eyes giving nothing away. “Jake, take the deputy chief into custody—quietly. No cuffs, no spectacle. Make sure to read him his rights. Dot every i and cross every t.”
After another long, pregnant pause, Malone cleared his throat. “Yes, sir.” He turned and left the room.
Sam looked up at the chief. “What happens now?”
“I’m calling in the FBI to interview Viera.”
Every part of Sam wanted to reject that plan, but she didn’t say a word, sensing that anything she said would be unwelcome.
“Behind the scenes—and I mean so far behind the scenes there’s no chance your fingerprints will be anywhere near this, I want your team to take a close look at Conklin’s activities in the six months before your father’s shooting.
Look at everything—email, phone calls, reports he filed, personal.
Everything. Bring Archie in but no one else outside your squad.
Pull any footage we have from the day of the shooting and go over it again, looking for any sign of Conklin at the scene.
Put Green’s name on the reports. He wasn’t here then and has no personal connection to Conklin.
Work quickly and don’t tell anyone else in this department what you’re working on.
Don’t breathe a word about this inside or outside HQ, not even to spouses. Am I clear?”
Sam swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”
Freddie nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Get on it.” Farnsworth turned and left the room.
Sam sat staring at the wall, unseeing, her mind racing as she tried to make sense of this.
“Sam.”
She looked up at her partner.
“What’re you thinking?”
“I don’t know what to think. This is so…” She shook her head. “It’s beyond my ability to comprehend.”
“Mine, too. If it’s too much, the rest of us can see to the chief’s orders. You don’t have to be here. Anyone would understand.”
“I’d go crazy at home waiting to hear what was happening.
” Sam forced herself to stand, to get her shit together, to find her legendary mojo, to do what needed to be done.
If justice for her father led to one of his closest friends, then so be it.
At least then they’d know. She opened the conference room door. “Everyone in here. Now.”