Chapter Twenty-Two #2
“No, he wasn’t. Your dad was there the most, along with Joe and Jake and people like Norm Morganthau, who was the medical examiner, and a friend of Steven’s from childhood.
But Paul never came around after the shooting.
Of course, he was there for the funeral and everything, but not particularly for me. ”
“I’m trying to get my head around the timing of things. Maybe you can help me with that. The guys graduated from the academy, went to work for the department, got married, hung out together, et cetera. Steven was killed, Conklin’s marriage broke up, he got sober… Do I have the order correct?”
“Paul and Jane broke up before Steven was killed. I remember that very distinctly. Steven expressed relief to me that their toxic soup of a marriage was over. He used those words—toxic soup. I remember thinking it was an apt description.”
“Okay, the Conklins split, Steven was killed and then Conklin got sober?”
Alice thought about that. “Yes, I believe it happened in that order and your parents got married a couple of months after Steven died. Your mom was a saint to put up with all the time your dad spent with me during those first few years after I lost Steven. I know it caused a lot of problems between them, but I was so thankful for Skip’s steady presence that I never stopped to question how hard it must’ve been for Brenda to share him with me, especially before their wedding and the first few years of their marriage.
” She paused and glanced at Sam. “Why does all of this matter now?”
“It’s not public knowledge yet, but Conklin has been arrested for holding back info relevant to my dad’s shooting.” Sam told herself that the arrest would make the news at any time now, and everyone would know.
Shock registered in Alice’s expression. “How could he do that? He and your dad were friends and colleagues for thirty-something years.”
“We’d all like to know.”
“How did you find out?”
“A call to the tip line from someone who was on G Street that day and interacted with Conklin, who had claimed to not be there. We were able to track down a first responder who could also attest to Conklin’s presence.”
“That’s astonishing.”
“Indeed, and it’s imperative that you don’t share that info with anyone. We’re building a case that we hope will finally lead to answers in my dad’s case.”
“I won’t say a word. I promise.”
“You’ve been very helpful. I appreciate it.”
“I’m happy to do anything I can to help you get answers for Skip. He was one of the best friends I ever had, and I’ll never forget him. In many ways, he put me back together after I lost Steven.”
“I know he thought the world of you both. He never got over losing Steven so suddenly. When we lost Detective Arnold earlier this year, his advice and counsel were so critical to me and the rest of my squad. He’d walked the walk, so he was such a huge help to us.”
“I love that he was still participating at that level, even after such an awful injury.”
“Because he was so sharp mentally, it made it easy to forget how precarious his physical condition was.”
“Which made his death that much more shocking.”
“Right.”
“I’m so, so sorry for your loss. I know how close you were to him and how hard it has to be to go on without him.”
“It’s hard, but I’m doing what he’d want me to do by getting back to work and staying focused on my family and my job.”
“I can only imagine how proud of you he had to be.”
“He was proud of all of us and never tried to hide it. We were very lucky to have him.”
Alice stood to walk Sam out. “We all were, and I will hope and pray that you are able to finally get justice for him.”
At the front door, Sam gave Alice a quick hug. “Thank you for all your help.” She handed Alice a business card. “If you think of anything else that might be relevant, give me a call?”
“I will. For sure.”
“Thanks again.”
Thinking about everything she’d learned from her mother and Alice, Sam directed the car toward HQ. Halfway there, she took a call from Freddie. “What’s up?”
“Hill is going to interview Conklin. Thought you might want to observe.”
“You thought right. I’ll be there in ten. Any word on the search of Conklin’s house?”
“Only that it’s ongoing.”
“What about the dump of his phone?”
“Haven’t heard anything on that.”
“All right. I’ll see you soon.” She flipped the phone closed and focused on driving, darting between cars and changing lanes any time she found an opening in the morning traffic jam.
Her mind filtered through the details she’d been given by two women who’d had front-row views of the complex relationships between the various players who’d made up her father’s inner circle—on the job and off duty.
The bonds formed between police officers could be deep and sometimes closer than family.
They could also be acrimonious and competitive while appearing cordial on the surface.
Sam had experienced every sort of dynamic with her colleagues during her years on the job.
Some were closer than family. Others had become mortal enemies.
And still others entered her orbit as needed and then exited without leaving much of an impact.
Sifting through the information she’d gathered that morning, she tried to figure out which category Conklin and her father had fallen into.
Had Conklin been secretly jealous of Skip’s promotion to deputy chief even while acting as his friend and supporter?
It wouldn’t be the first time someone had been two-faced when a friend moved ahead in the ranks.
Jealousy could undercut even the most solid of friendships, but had Conklin been jealous enough to orchestrate what amounted to the attempted murder of his rival?
Sam found that possibility hard to believe, but then again, she’d never understand how the deputy chief could’ve sat on information pertinent to her father’s case for four years while pretending to be his close friend.
The jealousy motive seemed too simplistic, especially considering their decades of personal friendship that’d included Skip providing Conklin with a place to stay during a difficult time in the other man’s life.
A rational person would deduce that Conklin would be eternally grateful to Skip for what he’d done for him then, which by all accounts had helped to ensure that Conklin’s promising career didn’t get derailed.
No matter how she looked at it, she couldn’t make sense of any scenario that would lead to Conklin either participating in or concealing evidence pertaining to her father’s shooting.
Sam parked outside the morgue entrance at HQ and ducked inside, ignoring the larger-than-usual scrum of reporters gathered outside the main doors.
On the way past, she’d noticed a couple of reporters who were usually assigned to the White House.
Why were they slumming at HQ? Was there that much interest in the death of the second lady’s father?
If so, it must be a slower than usual news week.
Or maybe they were after more about Sam and Nick taking in the Armstrong children.
Either way, they were going to leave disappointed.
She had nothing to say about either of those things.
She navigated the hallways that led to the pit, which was buzzing with activity when she arrived. “What’s the latest, people?”
Cameron Green swiveled around in his chair to greet her. “We’re still going through Conklin’s files. Nothing new to report, but we’re making headway.”
Nothing new to report could be the theme of her father’s investigation, until lately, when they’d finally gotten a few breaks, even if no one liked where they’d led.
Sam nodded in acknowledgment of Green’s statement. “Can someone get me the files on the shooting of Officer Steven Coyne?”
McBride stood. “I’ll do it.”
“Thank you. What time is Hill talking to Conklin?”
“Thirty minutes,” Freddie said.
“Got it.” Sam unlocked her office, went inside and flipped on the lights, eyeing the huge stack of cards Malone had left for her.
With some time to kill, she started opening the cards, most of them from people she’d never met but who’d had some sort of memorable encounter with Skip Holland during his time on the job.
I wanted you to know that your father once saved me on a night when my life exploded into violence at the hands of my ex-husband.
Sergeant Holland’s calm, cool, rational approach to a fraught situation not only saved my life, but my children’s lives.
He made a difference for my family that night, and I’ve never forgotten him.
Wishing him eternal rest and Godspeed for you and your family.
As a faithful supporter of the city’s Little League baseball program, Skip was a visible presence to the at-risk children who played the game for more than twenty years.
He has our undying respect and admiration, and we extend our sympathy to the entire Holland family on the loss of a great man and dedicated public servant.
The District has lost a great man.
Our hearts are with you.
May he rest in peace.
Thank you for sharing your father with us. His enormous sacrifice will never be forgotten.
Sam read every message, her eyes filling more than once at the sweet words people had used to describe her dad. Though her heart broke all over again at the reminder of his death, she took comfort in knowing he’d been so loved and respected.
She kept opening the cards, reading each message and making a pile to take home to share with Celia, Tracy and Angela. Flipping open a card that expressed sympathy on the loss of her father, she read the message that seemed to have been hastily scrawled.
Look inside your own “house” and city hall. The answers are closer than you think.
Sam read the message a second time and then dropped the card to her desktop. “Cruz!”
Freddie appeared in the doorway. “What’s up?”
“Get me an evidence bag.”
“What’ve you got?”
“Get the bag, and I’ll show you.”
When Freddie returned with the evidence bag, Sam used the tip of a pen to lift the card to open it, revealing the message written inside.
“Holy crap.”
“The quotes around the word house lead me to think it’s someone who speaks cop.”
“For sure.” Freddie slid it into a bag.
“Get it to the lab. Let them know my prints will be on it. Ask them to expedite.”
“Will do.”
As he left the room, her desk extension rang. “Holland.”
“It’s Archie. Can you come up here?”
“On my way.” As she left her office, Jeannie McBride returned to the pit empty-handed.
“The Coyne files were checked out by your father one week before his shooting and never returned.”
A charge of awareness went through Sam, leaving a tingle in the area of her backbone. She’d learned to trust those tingles as they usually meant she was on to something big. “Search my father’s stuff again for the Coyne files. I want everyone on that. I’ll be right back.”