Chapter Three #2
When Sam arrived at HQ a short time later, she noted the massive scrum of reporters outside the main door and drove around to the morgue entrance to avoid them.
Whenever scandal struck the administration, they stalked her workplace, hoping to get a comment from her.
She never gave them anything, deferring questions about her husband to the White House, but still they came.
They were going to leave disappointed again today.
She popped into the morgue to say hello to Lindsey, who was at her computer nursing a tall cup of the tea she said she couldn’t function without.
“Morning.”
“Hey, I was thinking of you. Any word on what the hell is happening at the White House?”
“Nothing official, but I suspect the president isn’t having a good day.”
“I feel so bad for Gloria. She’s such an amazing person, who’s dedicated her life to people less fortunate.”
Sam hesitated, but only for a second, deciding she could trust Lindsey with the rest of the story. “There’s more to it that no one knows yet.”
“Can you tell?”
“If you keep a lid on it.”
“My lips are sealed.”
“Gloria was being treated for stage two ovarian cancer around the time the affair supposedly started.”
“Ugh, you’ve got to be kidding me. That makes it extra revolting.”
“I know. That’s the part I can’t get over either. I mean the infidelity is bad enough, but the timing of her illness takes it to a whole other level of disgusting.”
“Seriously.” Lindsey shuddered. “If Terry ever did something like that to me…”
“He never would. He’s fully aware that he’s marrying up, and he’ll continue to treat you like the goddess you are, or I’ll stab him with my rusty steak knife.”
Lindsey tried not to smile. “May I quote you on that?”
“By all means. Put him on notice.”
“It’s not something I worry about where he’s concerned, but when the president does it, you start to wonder if it’s something they all do.”
“It’s not,” Sam said. “If there is one thing in my life I’m absolutely sure of, it’s that my husband has no interest in anyone but me.”
“The whole world is sure of that with you two. The man is thoroughly besotted.”
“So is yours, Linds. You got nothing to worry about.”
“I know.” As usual when she spoke of Terry O’Connor, Lindsey’s entire demeanor softened.
“How’s the wedding planning coming?” Sam honestly didn’t want to hear about the wedding, but she tried to be a good friend, and being a good friend to Lindsey right now meant asking about the wedding.
“Shelby is a godsend, as you know,” Lindsey said of Sam and Nick’s personal assistant, whom they met when she planned their wedding. She kept a hand in her wedding planning business even as she worked for them full-time.
“I’m well aware,” Sam said. “I’d be lost without her, and my wedding would’ve been a disaster if she hadn’t handled every detail.”
“She told me yesterday that I need to get my wedding party in order, and as such, I was hoping it would be okay if I asked you to be one of my attendants even though I know you hate such things with the passion of a thousand bloody hemorrhoids.”
Sam sputtered. “I’m not that bad.”
“Um, yes, you are, but I’d still be honored to have you. Terry is going to ask Nick to be his best man.”
“He’ll be honored and so am I—with one caveat. There’d better not be any of those stupid fucking shower games. You need to promise me there won’t be any of that crap. I absolutely refuse to participate in wrapping you in toilet paper.”
Lindsey cracked up. “I’ll let my sister, the matron of honor, know that there are to be no shower games under any circumstances.”
“Great, then I’m all yours. Oh, and the dress can’t be fugly either.”
Lindsey continued to laugh helplessly. “I’m giving you guys a color and letting you pick what you want. Believe me, I’ve worn enough fugly dresses in my time. I’d never do that to my girls. The benefit of being an older bride is knowing what you don’t want.”
“Older,” Sam scoffed. “What’re you thirty-three?”
“Six and hearing the tick, tick, tick of my biological clock.” As soon as she said that, she grimaced. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“Stop. Please don’t do that. Just because I seem to be infertile doesn’t mean I begrudge others their ability to procreate. The world is probably better off without another Sam Holland running around out there.”
“The world would be lucky to have another Sam Holland.”
“Aww, you’re sweet, but I’m honestly okay with it.
Don’t get me wrong—I’d still love nothing more than to have a baby with Nick, but ever since Scotty came to live with us, the burning need for it isn’t quite the same as it was.
Now it’s more like it would be nice if it happens, but if it doesn’t, that’s okay, too. ”
“I’m glad to hear you say that.”
“Believe me, my plate is more than full with the twins and Scotty and this job that never lets up. If I had a baby, I’d have to make some big changes I’m probably not prepared to make right now.
” She shrugged, as if having a baby hadn’t once been the most important thing in her life.
“Things change, and people evolve. I couldn’t be happier with the family I have or feel more fortunate to have three beautiful kids to love as well as the twins’ older brother in our lives. ”
“You are fortunate, and it’s nice that you can see that.”
“We don’t always get what we want, but sometimes we get what we need.”
“I seem to recall a song that said something like that…”
Sam laughed. “One of my favorites.”
“You like a song by someone other than Bon Jovi?” Lindsey asked, scandalized.
“Only like six songs by others, so don’t make a thing of it.”
“Hate to ask, but any word on Stahl’s trial?”
“The defense is putting on their shit show this week and then it goes to the jury. His attorneys got a few people to say what an upstanding public servant he was. Whatever. When you wrap someone in razor wire and try to set them on fire, it sort of negates your service to the homeless, you know?”
“Ah, yeah, I agree. Everyone here is hoping for a conviction.”
“Everyone?” Sam asked, brow raised.
“Well, almost everyone.”
“I’m sure Ramsey would love to see him get off so they can continue to torture me in their own special way.” Sam had tangled frequently with the sergeant from Special Victims, who hated her for reasons known only to him. “What’s life without a few good enemies?”
“Peaceful?”
“What fun would that be?” Sam’s phone rang and she took the call from her partner, Detective Freddie Cruz. “What’s up?”
“Malone is looking for you.”
“I’ll be right there.” She slapped the phone closed. “Gotta run. The captain is looking for me.”
“What’d you do now?”
“Could be so many things. Have a good day, Doc.”
“You, too.” Sam left the morgue and navigated the winding corridors that led to the pit where her detectives were hard at work—or at least they’d better be.
The paperwork surrounding the investigation into her father’s shooting had been voluminous, and they’d been meticulous to make sure every thread was firmly sewn up.
With their deputy chief implicated in the crime, they’d gone the extra mile of working with the FBI to ensure the investigation was unimpeachable.
Captain Malone was waiting for her, leaning against Freddie’s cubicle, chatting about the Capitals, and their chances for another Stanley Cup.
“There you are. I saw your car and wondered where you were.”
“I was in the morgue with Lindsey.”
“Ah, gotcha. Can we talk?”
Sam glanced at her mentor and friend, who sounded off. “Sure. Come in.” As she followed him to her office, she looked back at Freddie, who shrugged.