Chapter Four
Sam unlocked the office door and gestured for the captain to go in ahead of her as she flipped on the lights and closed the door behind her, thinking, What fresh hell awaits me today? “Everything okay?” She walked around the desk to sit while he took her visitor chair.
“I keep going over it and over it in my mind, and I can’t get it to make sense.”
“What’s that?”
“Conklin.”
“That may never make sense to us.”
“It’s unfathomable to me that he sat on this info for all this time. Skip was one of ours. He was Conklin’s friend. Skip took him in when Conklin was at his lowest point and saved his career. How could he do this to Skip? To us?”
“We may never know the answer to that, Cap.”
“Maybe we will.”
Sam tipped her head.
“He wants to see you.”
Her immediate, visceral response was no fucking way. She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m not sure I could resist the urge to spit in his face.”
“No one would blame you if you did.”
“I don’t need the publicity of the second lady behaving badly—again.”
He leaned forward, elbows on knees, eyes imploring. “Don’t you want to know, Sam?”
She slapped her hand on the desktop. “Hell, yes, I want to know, but I’m not sure I can sit in a room with the man who knew all along what happened to my dad and kept it to himself. I might be tempted to murder him.”
Malone sat back, his shoulders sagging with uncharacteristic defeat. “Believe me, I get it.”
“I’m trying to survive this, you know?”
“Yeah, I get that, too.”
“I’ll think about seeing him. That’s all I’ve got right now. It’s a big deal for me to get out of bed.”
“It’s new. It’ll get easier.”
“So they say. At the moment? Not so good.”
“I don’t mean to make it harder on you than it already is.”
“You’re not the one doing that. He is. He’s been doing that for years now.”
“His arrest has created an opening. The chief asked me if I’m interested in being promoted, but I don’t know. Part of me doesn’t want it.”
“How come?”
“I like what I’m doing now, supervising the detectives. Being deputy chief is all about schmoozing at city hall and overseeing the budget and admin shit that’d drive me mad.”
“You’re the ranking captain, so you get first right of refusal.
Who’s next in line?” She paid zero attention to such things because she didn’t give a rat’s ass about anything other than her own cases and her own squad and the colleagues she worked with regularly.
Getting caught up in department politics had never been her jam.
“Nickleson from SWAT.”
“He’d be a good deputy chief.”
“The mayor wants a woman.”
“Does the mayor understand that these things are done by rank and seniority?”
“The chief explained how it works to her, and she insisted that it’s time for a woman—and a woman of color at that—to be considered.”
“I agree with that. We need more women in general in the upper ranks since we already run the world.”
He grunted out a laugh. “I’m all for that, and so is the chief.
But there’s a protocol in place, for better or worse, and we can’t ignore the people who’ve put in the time on the job.
All the current captains are men, which is a damned shame, but let’s face it, the mayor could decide to put you in the job if she wanted to, and it would be hard for us to tell her no. ”
“Dear God, let’s hope she doesn’t get an idea like that.”
“From your lips to God’s ears.”
Sam scowled at him. “We’ve got a few female lieutenants who’re going to run the place in a couple of years, but we need to do better in advancing women, especially women of color, in this department.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
“Officer Charles,” Sam said, referring to the young Black officer who’d assisted in the planning of her father’s police funeral.
“What about her?”
“She impressed the shit out of me with her organization skills and attention to detail during my dad’s funeral.”
“It’s not easy to impress you.”
“No, it isn’t. She’s going to be the chief someday. Mark my words. I’d love to have her as my assistant, if she’d like the job, that is.”
“She reports to the chief. You’d have to fight him for her, and besides, you have an entire squad to assist you.”
“You guys are always after me to get the reports done faster, and with my dyslexia, that’s not easy for me.”
“You’re playing the dyslexia card?”
“Yes, because it’s convenient for me.”
Malone barked out a laugh that was a welcome relief from his earlier morose demeanor. Even in the worst of times, Sam counted on her mentor, boss and friend to be upbeat and positive. He helped to keep her spirits up when they took a beating like they had lately.
“I’ll talk to the chief about your interest in working with Officer Charles.”
“Thank you. Any updates on the Stahl trial?”
“I heard the defense will rest today or tomorrow, and then it’ll go to the jury. Almost there.”
“If they don’t convict him…”
“How can they not convict him? He wrapped you in razor wire and threatened to set you on fire.”
“He would’ve succeeded in setting me on fire if you guys hadn’t shown up when you did. Took you long enough, by the way.”
He scowled. “It took us a while to figure out where you were—alone—and without a cell phone that could be tracked.”
“Mistakes were made. I’ll give you that.”
“Good of you to acknowledge that.”
“I want to dig in further on that anonymous note we got that info about my father’s shooter was closer than we thought and we needed to look inside our own house.”
“We had the letter thoroughly analyzed.”
“I know, but someone knew about Conklin. I want to know who.”
“What’re you thinking?”
“I’d like to talk to his wife, for starters.”
“She’s apt to lawyer up when she hears you’re coming.”
“Let her. All I can do is ask the questions. I don’t know her at all though.” For whatever reason, Conklin’s second wife had never socialized with their group or been with him when he visited Skip. At times, Sam had forgotten Conklin was married.
“I’ll go with you. I know her a little. I’ll set it up.” He stood, seeming infused with purpose now that he had a mission.
“Hey, Cap?”
Malone turned back to her, raised a brow.
“I know it’s hard, but we all have to find a way to survive this or we won’t be able to do the job or anything else, for that matter. I refuse to give these people any more than they’ve already taken from me, and you shouldn’t either.”
“That’s good advice, and I’ll keep it in mind as I work to keep the cauldron of rage inside me from boiling over.”
“It helps to know that I’m not the only one contending with the cauldron of rage.”
“You’re far from alone with this. A lot of people around here loved Skip and can’t make sense of what Conklin did—or didn’t do. It defies belief for those of us who wear the badge with pride. I’ll be back to you about the Mrs.”
“Sounds good, thanks.”
After he left, she picked up the photocopy of the anonymous note she had received after her father died, which had been nagging at her since they closed the case.
Look inside your own “house” and city hall. The answers are closer than you think.
The note had been hastily scrawled in handwriting someone would recognize. “Cruz!”
Freddie popped up from his cubicle and scowled at her. “What?”
She returned his scowl. “Come here.”
He came. “You bellowed?”
“I did.” She held up the copy of the note. “We’re going to dig into this and figure out where it came from.”
“Okay…”
“I was letting you know. Talk to the others about ideas of how we might approach this.”
“Anything else, Your Majesty?”
Sam smiled. “I like that nickname. You can call me that instead of lieutenant going forward.”
“In your dreams.”
“That’ll be all for now, young grasshopper.” For the rest of her life, she’d never forget how he’d cut short the honeymoon in Italy he’d looked forward to for months so he could be with her in the aftermath of her father’s death.
Detective Cameron Green came to the door, stopping Freddie from leaving. As usual, Cameron wore a shirt and tie that made the rest of them look sloppy in comparison. To Sam, he said, “I saw that the president is planning to speak at the daily press briefing. Thought you might want to see that.”
She didn’t, but she got up to follow them into the conference room where Detective Jeannie McBride and her new partner, Detective Matt O’Brien, were already parked in front of the TV.
Sam realized they were as concerned as she was about what would happen to her job and career if Nick were to become president.
Her stomach began to ache when she saw the press secretary turn the podium over to President David Nelson. Tall with silver hair and blue eyes, Nelson was usually the picture of decorum and presidential demeanor. Today, he was visibly agitated and off his game.
“Thank you for allowing me a minute of your time.” He kept his gaze down to avoid eye contact with the reporters.
“I’m here today to confirm the reports of an extramarital affair with Tara Weber.
Ms. Weber served as a policy analyst on my reelection team, and we became close while traveling together.
” He looked up, and the emotions she saw swirling in his troubled eyes didn’t do much to calm her nerves.
“The affair continued until shortly after the inauguration. Ms. Weber conceived a child, a son, who was born last week. I do not believe the child is mine.”
Sam wondered how he could be so certain. Would the president have to take a paternity test? It was all so sordid.
The press corps erupted with shouted questions.
Nelson ignored them all. “I made a mistake having an affair,” he said, his voice breaking.
“I made several of them. I dishonored the promises I made to my wonderful, beautiful, supportive wife, Gloria, and disappointed her at a time when she needed me most. I’ve let down my family, Ms. Weber and the American people.
For that, all I can do is apologize and promise to do better in the future. ”