Chapter Twenty-Five
Sam sat up, feeling as if she’d once again been electrocuted. “Can I see it?”
“Not until we process it.”
“Why did I know you were going to say that? Was there anything in it?”
“From what we could tell on first glance, it contained files and other personal items.”
She took a series of deep breaths. “I feel like I’m going to be sick. That he had it for all this time and never told anyone…” Much to her dismay, tears flooded her eyes. Determined to keep it together, she blinked them back and forced herself to stay calm.
“If it’s any consolation, you’re not the only one who feels sick.”
“It is. I know a lot of people around here loved my dad, and this will hit them hard. Tell me we’re charging Conklin’s wife, too.”
“You’re damned right we are.”
“Good.”
Chief Farnsworth appeared next to Malone, and the two of them stepped into her office and closed the door, the chief’s jaw pulsing with tension. “This might be the most unbelievable thing that’s ever happened.”
Sam wasn’t sure that was true, but since it wasn’t like the calm, cool, composed chief to make such pronouncements, she chose not to argue the point. After all, it was pretty fucking unbelievable. “What does he have to say about it?”
“Hill asked him that, and he said he doesn’t know how that got into her car because he’s never seen it before,” Malone said.
“I hope we’re dusting it for prints.”
“As we speak.”
“Does he realize yet that we’ve got him screwed, glued and tattooed?”
“I think it might be starting to register with him,” Farnsworth said.
When someone knocked on the door, the chief opened it to Hill and Faith Miller. “Come in.”
They stepped in and the chief closed the door.
Sam couldn’t recall the last time she’d had that many people stuffed into her small office.
“Conklin’s attorney is requesting a deal in exchange for his cooperation,” Hill said.
“What kind of deal?” Sam asked, hesitant. The last thing she wanted was for him to get any leniency after what he’d done.
“A reduced sentence in exchange for information that’ll help to hook a much bigger fish,” Hill said. “Those are his words, not mine.”
“I think,” Sam said, “the bigger fish is going to be Roy Gallagher.”
The others looked at her with stunned expressions.
“As in Councilman Roy Gallagher?” Faith asked.
“The one and only.”
“I heard from City Hall this morning that he’s championing legislation that would name HQ in honor of Skip,” Farnsworth said.
The gesture, like so many things lately, hit Sam like a punch to the gut, leaving her momentarily breathless as tingles rained down her spine, making her more certain than she already was that they were on to something with Gallagher.
Reading from her notes, Sam went through the things she’d discovered during her deep dive into the past relationships between her dad and Roy as well as Steven and Roy.
“Wait a minute,” Hill said. “Are you suggesting the Coyne shooting might also be related?”
“I’m having one of my feelings about him, so I’m suggesting it might be possible.”
Hill glared at her. “Explain.”
Sam took them through the information she’d uncovered that morning, including the photo of Coyne providing security for Gallagher’s first campaign—something Coyne’s wife hadn’t known he was doing.
She told them about the money that had “appeared” twice—once before Steven died and again after.
“Coyne’s wife said he was stressed out about something in the weeks before he died.
He told her work was getting to him. She sensed it was more than that but couldn’t get him to tell her what was bothering him. ”
“I’m not seeing a solid connection to Gallagher,” Hill said, “and if we’re going to accuse a well-respected member of the District’s government of being involved with possibly two police officers’ murders, we’d better have it nailed down before it gets out that we’re looking at him.”
“He’s right,” Farnsworth said. “The last thing I need right now with my deputy chief implicated is a shaky connection to a powerful council member who’d have my job—and yours—so fast our heads would spin. Nothing you’ve uncovered would lead to motive for him to take out two police officers.”
“Roll with me for a minute here.” Sam felt the buzz she often got from knowing she was on to something.
“What if Coyne was working for Gallagher under the table to make ends meet? He didn’t tell his wife because he doesn’t want to concern her with their financial situation.
What if, while working for Gallagher, he uncovers something that gets him killed.
And then, what if, with retirement looming, Skip decides to take another look at the unsolved shooting of his first partner and close friend, wanting to wrap that up before he leaves the job?
He checked out the Coyne files, which were never returned, and was nearly killed a week later.
You going to tell me that’s a coincidence? ”
Malone shook his head. “We don’t believe in coincidences around here.”
“The alternative to investigating Gallagher,” Faith said tentatively, “is to let Conklin make the case against whomever the big fish turns out to be, and then we’ll know exactly who we should be looking at.”
The group met the suggestion with total silence.
“It’s going to be your call,” Hill said to Farnsworth. “If you cut a deal with Conklin to get someone bigger, you’re going to have to be able to live with Conklin doing less time than he deserves.”
“I don’t want to see him spend one day less than exactly what he deserves behind bars,” Farnsworth said fiercely. “Let’s see if we can make a case against Gallagher before we consider dealing with Conklin. I’ve learned to trust the lieutenant’s feelings on these things. They’re rarely wrong.”
“Um, they’re never wrong,” Sam said, earning a glare from her chief.
Malone coughed, possibly to cover a laugh.
“I don’t want anyone outside the people in this room knowing we’re looking at Gallagher,” Farnsworth said. “Unless we have him locked and loaded, no one will ever know we investigated him. Am I clear on that?”
“Crystal,” Sam said.
The others murmured their agreement.
“I’ll need to inform Tom,” Faith said of the U.S. Attorney.
“Only him,” Farnsworth said. “No one else.”
“Understood,” Faith said.
“Everything you do is on deep background,” Farnsworth said to Sam. “Malone’s name is on anything that requires a paper trail.”
Sam nodded.
“If this leads in the direction of Gallagher, it’ll be nuclear for us,” Farnsworth said. “There’s absolutely no room for error.”
“There won’t be any errors,” Sam said.
A knock on the door seemed to startle everyone in the room, as if they feared it might be Gallagher himself on the other side of the door.
Faith, who was standing closest to the door, opened it to Freddie, whose eyes bugged when he saw how many people were in the small office—and who they were.
Sam leaned around the others so he could see her. “What’s up, Detective?”
“Frank Davis was found murdered in his apartment.”
Sam accompanied Cruz, Green and McBride to Davis’s apartment where they found the older man on the floor inside his front door, dead from a single gunshot wound to the forehead.
Cruz examined the door. “No sign of forced entry.”
Green squatted for a closer look at the body. “Which means it was someone he knew or recognized.”
“Who called it in?” Sam asked.
“His daughter,” McBride said. “She’s next door with his neighbor, who was also his friend.”
Sam glanced at Freddie. “Let’s go talk to them.”
The door to the neighbor’s apartment was propped open but Sam knocked anyway. While she waited, she took a look around for security cameras in the hallway but didn’t see any. Many of the older buildings weren’t wired for cameras the way the new ones were.
“Come in.”
They found two women seated on a sofa. One had white hair and a sweet face lined with wrinkles and eyes filled with tears. She comforted a younger blond woman, whose face was buried in her hands.
“Lorraine,” the older woman said. “The police want to speak to you.”
The younger woman raised her head, revealing a face ravaged with shock and grief.
Sam showed her badge as Freddie did the same. “I’m Lieutenant Holland, and this is my partner, Detective Cruz. We’re very sorry for your loss.”
“Th-thank you.” Sobs muffled her words. “I don’t know how this could’ve happened. My father didn’t have an enemy in the world. Everyone loved him.”
Sam and Freddie sat on a love seat across from the two women. “When was the last time you spoke to him?”
Lorraine wiped tears from her face. “Yesterday afternoon. He didn’t answer the phone when I tried to call him this afternoon, so I came by after work to check on him. That’s when I found him.”
“When you talked to him yesterday, did he express any concerns or anything out of the ordinary?”
“Not at all. We talked about the Washington Football Team, and he mentioned that he’d met you. He said it was about your father’s case?”
“That’s right. We learned this week that your father had been a witness to the shooting.”
“It’s not a coincidence, is it, that this happened to him right after he gave a statement to you?”
Sam’s stomach ached fiercely, the way it used to when she’d been hooked on diet cola. “I don’t think it is.”
Lorraine shook her head as more tears spilled down her cheeks. “I don’t understand this.”
“I don’t either, but we’re going to figure out what happened to him.” To the older woman, Sam said, “Could I get your name, please?”
“Eleanor Lively.”
“How long have you lived next door to Frank?”
“Oh, about fifteen years or so.”
“And you were friends?”
“We were.” Her voice caught. “He was a lovely man. He helped me with anything that needed fixing, and I cooked for him. It was nice for both of us to have the company, as we’re both widowed. I don’t know what I’ll do without him.” She took the tissue Lorraine handed her and dabbed at her eyes.
“Did you hear any sort of disturbance next door or the sound of the gunshot?”