Chapter Eight
Sam walked from the pit to the main lobby where she ran into Malone, who seemed to be heading in her direction.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“The chief called and asked me to come by.”
“He called you himself?”
Sam nodded. “And he sounded weird.”
Malone’s deep sigh did nothing to settle her nerves. “He’s sounded weird the last few days as the firestorm swirled around him.”
“I absolutely hate that people are blaming him for shit he had nothing to do with.”
“I know, but that’s how it goes, unfortunately.”
“Do you think it would matter if I went on the record saying no one in my family blames him for what Conklin or Stahl did? I could say that we never could’ve gotten through the last four years without his support and that of the department.”
“Couldn’t hurt, but see what he has to say before you do anything.”
“I’d do it if it would make a difference.”
“And we all know how much you love talking to the press.”
Sam forced a smile even as her heart lodged in her throat. The chief could not resign. He absolutely couldn’t. “You want to come with me to see him?”
“He didn’t invite me.”
“I’ll tell him I did.”
“Sure, I’ll tag along, but only because I’m nosy.”
Sam was irrationally relieved to have the captain with her as she walked toward the chief’s suite of offices and nodded to Helen.
“Go ahead in,” Helen said. “He’s expecting you.”
Did she sound weird, too, or was Sam imagining that?
She knocked on the door, and when the chief called out for her to come in, she opened the door and ducked her head in. “Is it okay that I brought the captain?”
“Yeah,” Chief Farnsworth said. “It’s fine.”
The two of them walked in, and the captain closed the door behind him.
“What’s up?” Sam asked.
“Heard you met with Conklin. I was wondering what that was about.”
“He asked to see me because he wanted to apologize. You can imagine how that went. I’m trying to figure out who sent the anonymous note during the investigation, the one that told us to look inside our own house and city hall.
Someone else knew that people inside the department had information pertaining to my dad’s case, and I want to know who. ”
“I’d like to know that, too, although once we find out, the press will have even more arrows to aim at me and my lackluster leadership of the department.”
He didn’t sound weird in person, Sam decided, but he did sound depressed, disheartened, demoralized.
Not that she could blame him for any of those things.
She felt the same way knowing the answers they’d needed for so long had been right under their noses.
Taking a seat in front of his desk, she considered her words carefully.
“The people who matter know the truth, Chief.”
“For all the good that does me in the court of public opinion.” As he spoke, he fiddled with a pen in an aimless way that was contrary to his normal sharp, focused demeanor.
“I’ve got a lieutenant about to be convicted of attempted murder, among other felonies—or at least he’d better be—and a deputy chief charged with multiple felonies.
It’s not a good look on me or any of us. ”
“In a department of this size, these things will happen,” Malone said.
The chief raised a brow. “In the top leadership?”
“Would it help if I released a statement making it clear that no one in my family blames you for what Conklin did and that we never would’ve gotten through the four years of my father’s injury without your support and that of the department?”
Farnsworth appeared to give that consideration. “It might be better coming from Celia rather than you.”
“I’m sure she’d be happy to do it. I’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks for the sentiment. Even if it doesn’t put out the firestorm, it helps me cope with it to know you feel that way.”
“We all feel that way, Chief. You were my dad’s best friend. You wanted his case solved as badly as we did.”
“I did. If I’d had any idea…”
“You don’t have to say it. We know. I’m worried you’re letting them get to you, and that’s not usually your style.”
“It’s hard not to take the criticism to heart in this case. Conklin was my deputy chief, my close friend. I deserve the crap coming at me.”
“How do you deserve it?” Malone asked. “You didn’t know what he was hiding.”
“I misjudged him for all these years.”
“We all did,” Malone said. “Skip did. He welcomed him into his home, almost weekly after the shooting. Would he have done that if he’d had the slightest inkling that Conklin held the key to the entire thing?”
“No, but—”
“No buts. Sir. You had no way to know your deputy was hiding information that would lead to him being charged as an accessory to murder.” Malone’s forceful statement seemed to get the chief’s attention. “This is not your fault, and if you quit, you’ll be handing the haters an easy victory.”
“I think I’ve had enough.”
“No,” Sam said. “No, you haven’t. You’re grief-stricken from the loss of Dad, and you’re shocked by what Conklin did.
People say you shouldn’t do anything rash after a big loss.
Don’t make any big decisions, they say. That applies to you, too.
If you go out like this, it’ll haunt you when the grief fades and the anger recedes. You’ll regret it.”
“She’s right,” Malone said. “This isn’t the time to make any big decisions.”
“When did our young lieutenant get so wise?” Farnsworth asked Malone, as if Sam wasn’t sitting right there.
“Around the time she married up,” Malone said.
Farnsworth laughed—hard—and Sam exhaled for the first time since she entered his office.
“Now that’s more like it,” Sam said.
“I hear what you guys are saying,” the chief said, “and I appreciate the wisdom as well as the counsel.”
“So you’re not going to quit?” Sam asked. That was the only thing he hadn’t said for sure and the one thing she needed to know so she’d be able to sleep that night.
“Not today.”
“You’ll talk to us before you do anything?” Malone asked.
“I will.”
“I know you’d normally talk to Dad about something like this,” Sam said, hoping she wasn’t out of line for what she was about to suggest. “I know I’m no substitute, but I’m here if you need me.”
He shot her a wry look full of amusement and affection. “Why do you think I called you?”
She was unreasonably touched by the sentiment. “Oh, um, well, I’m glad you thought of me when you needed a friend.”
“You’re not alone in this office, Joe,” Malone said, “despite how it might seem at times. A lot of people around here have got your back.”
“That’s good to know, and this helped.”
“Anytime,” Malone said. “We’re always here for you.”
Sam stood. “I’ll talk to Celia about issuing a statement.”
“Thanks. And by the way, I hear you’re trying to poach my amazing Officer Charles, and you can’t have her.”
“I need her, Uncle Joe.”
He rolled his eyes at her shameless use of the name she’d called him as a child. “I need her more.”
Sam flashed her most charming grin. “Will you think about sharing her with a friend?”
The chief’s brows furrowed as he scowled. “Maybe. We’ll see.”
Sam clapped her hands and glanced at Malone. “Maybe means yes.”
Farnsworth wasn’t having it. “Maybe means maybe. Now get back to work and keep me posted on what you find out about the anonymous note.”
“I will,” Sam said.
She walked out with Malone, past Helen’s inquiring gaze, and waited until they were out of earshot of her or anyone before she spoke. “Did we talk him off the cliff?”
“I think we did. You were spot-on in there. What you said about not making any rash decisions was good advice.”
“He would regret it when the dust settles. The Post article threw gas on a simmering fire.” The newspaper had published an article detailing the department’s recent troubles, recapping the case against former Lieutenant Stahl and the new charges against former Deputy Chief Conklin, among other high-profile personnel matters that had occurred on the chief’s watch.
“I agree, and when he has a chance to think about it, he will, too. No one wants to go out of a job like this in the midst of a firestorm of criticism.”
“We need to keep an eye on this, check in with him. Frequently.”
“I’ll stay on it,” Malone said. “Losing your dad puts a big hole in his support system. Hell, losing Conklin does, too. Joe thought Conklin was on his team, and to find out otherwise is a shock to his system.”
“It’s a tough thing for everyone involved. It has us questioning everything. Wondering who we can trust on this job isn’t a question any of us want to be asking. I’m going to call Celia. Getting that statement out ought to help.”
“Let’s hope so.”
Sam left him in the lobby and headed for the pit, keeping her head down to discourage people from talking to her. She went into her office and shut the door to place the call to her stepmother.
“Hi there,” she said when Celia answered the call to her cell.
“This is a nice surprise. Aren’t you at work?”
“I am. Do you have a second?”
“For you? Always.”
Her stepmother’s kindness was one of the things Sam loved best about her. “I’m sure you’ve seen the stuff in the papers and on the news about the chief.”
“I have and I’m disgusted by it. As if he knew what his deputy was up to. He would’ve been the first one to throw the book at Conklin if he’d known.”
“I’m glad you feel that way. We were wondering if you might issue a statement in support of the chief.”
“Absolutely. Tell me what you want it to say, and I’ll do it today.”
“Speak from your heart about what Joe Farnsworth meant to you and Dad during the years following his shooting.”
“That’s easy enough. We wouldn’t have gotten through it without his friendship and the unwavering support of the department.”
“Say that, too.”
“Should I email it to you?”
“That’d be great.”
“I’ll text you when I send it.”
“Thank you so much for this. It’ll mean a lot to the chief.”
“It’s the least I can do after all he did for us. I’ll get to it. Watch for my text.”
“Thanks, Celia.”
“You got it.”