Chapter Nine #2
Sam released a deep sigh. “I was afraid you were going to say that.” Her phone rang and she took the call from Nick on the Bluetooth. “Hey, I’m driving so you get me and Freddie.”
“Hi, Freddie.”
“Hi there.”
“What’s the latest?”
“We’re on our way to Herndon to see Tara Weber’s parents. They’ve got her son with them.”
“Oh good. I’m glad he was located.”
“Yeah, we got lucky. Her assistant was the one who found her and had the four-one-one on where the kid was, her schedule for the last week and other info that would’ve taken us days to get without her.”
“That’s something anyway. Did she know about the affair with Nelson?”
“She says no, but I find that hard to believe. She traveled some with the campaign and knew everything else that Weber was doing. How did she not know that? I also want to know if his Secret Service detail knew what was going on. They had to know.”
“Even if they did, it’s not their job to interfere with the president’s personal life.”
“Maybe not, but how does something like that stay secret in the midst of a campaign in which people are always around and watching everything?”
“I can’t imagine something like that staying secret in the fishbowl of a national campaign.”
“Hopefully the parents can give us some insight into who knew what and when.”
“God, I hope so.” He sounded far more stressed than usual. “The White House is on fire over this. Brandon Halliwell has called me three times since the news broke about Tara being murdered.”
That news spiked Sam’s anxiety. “What does he want?”
“Mostly he’s making sure I haven’t skipped town.”
“Are you thinking about doing that? Skipping town?”
“Not without you and the kids.”
“This might be the perfect time for a family trip to Bora Bora. We always said we wanted to take Scotty there someday. If they can’t find us…”
Nick’s low chuckle echoed through the car. “They’d find us. We’d have to take the Secret Service with us and they’d snitch.”
“They totally would,” she said, sighing.
“The best thing you can do for all of us right now is to quickly figure out who killed Tara, preferably someone who has no connection whatsoever to Nelson.”
“Is that all you need from me?”
“Well, that’s all I can say in front of young Freddie.” His sexy, suggestive tone would’ve made her swoon had she not been driving in bumper-to-bumper traffic.
“Thank you, Jesus,” Freddie muttered, making them both laugh.
Sam was always grateful for the two of them and the levity they brought to her life, but never more so than at times like this, when her stress level would be in the radioactive zone without them around to keep it real.
“Let me know when you’re on the way home,” Nick said. “I’ll make sure there’s food waiting.”
“Will you be home soon? Someone needs to relieve Shelby.” Their assistant would be eager to get her baby son, Noah, home to bed, but was always willing to stay if need be. She kept a portable crib in their laundry room for emergencies.
“I’m on the way now.”
“Okay, thanks. See you soon.”
“Love you. Bye, Freddie.”
“See ya,” Freddie said.
“Love you, too,” Sam said.
When the connection ended, the radio blared back to life with news of an accident on Interstate 66 in Falls Church.
Sam groaned. “Shit, fuck, damn, hell.”
“Tell me how you really feel, Lieutenant,” he said dryly.
“I just did! Why can’t people fucking learn to drive?”
“Is that a rhetorical question or one that requires an answer?”
She glared at him.
“What?”
“Rhetorical,” she growled. They battled traffic for more than an hour before taking the exit to Herndon and following GPS directions to the address Delany had given them.
The road to the subdivision where Weber’s parents lived was lined with satellite trucks.
“We’ve got ourselves a full-on media campout,” Sam said.
“Looks that way.”
“Never takes long for the jackals to arrive on the scent of a hot story.”
They were stopped by local police. “Sorry, road’s closed,” the officer said. “Detour that way.”
Sam showed him her badge. “Lieutenant Holland, Metro PD. I need to get through as part of a Homicide investigation.”
“No one is getting through.”
Young, cocky, stupid. Sam had his number in two seconds.
“Did you hear me say I’m working a Homicide investigation?”
“I heard you, and I don’t care who you are or what you’re doing, you’re not getting in here.”
“Wow, so much for professional courtesy.”
“Move along.”
Sam put the car in Park and reached for her cell phone, putting through a call to Captain Malone. “We’re running into an issue with Herndon police. An Officer Chavez is telling me I can’t get in to see my victim’s parents. Anything you can do?”
“Yep. Hang on.” The line went dead, and she knew he’d be calling his counterparts in the Herndon Police Department.
“You can’t park here,” Chavez said.
“Oh, sorry, am I hanging things up? You should probably call a tow because I’m not going anywhere until I speak to the people I came to see.”
“You’re exactly what people say you are,” he said, snarling.
“Listen up, Detective Cruz. You won’t want to miss hearing what people say I am.”
“I’m rapt with fascination,” Freddie said.
“Well?” Sam said, looking up at Chavez. “I’m waiting.”
His ferocious scowl did nothing to intimidate her. He was about to say something when his radio crackled to life with orders from his superior officer to allow Sam through the roadblock.
All she heard was “let them through.” She grinned widely at Chavez, whose scowl became even more fierce.
“Not sure who you’re sleeping with.”
“You’re not? That’s something the rest of the world is pretty clear on.”
Chavez signaled to another officer to move the cruiser that was blocking the road.
“Have a nice day, Officer, and thank you for the interdepartmental cooperation.”
“Fuck you.”
Laughing, Sam hit the gas and took off, honking the horn as she went by him. “God, that was fun.”
“Look at you. Making friends everywhere we go.”
“I know! I’m like little Miss Mary Sunshine.”
Freddie laughed and then coughed, trying to hide the laugh.
“You find that funny, Detective?”
“Not at all, Lieutenant. I think it’s the perfect nickname for you.”
“Glad you agree. I’m not sure what I do to stir the ire of people I’ve never even met.”
“You’re good at your job. That irritates the old boys’ club.”
“He was a young boy.”
“Probably raised by one of the dinosaurs who thinks women belong in the kitchen and not on the job.”
“I like that explanation better than him taking an immediate and intense dislike for me simply because I was trying to do my job.”
“You’re also high profile, married to the VP, running around without a detail and generally the kind of badass they all want to be when their nuts let down.”
Sam parked two doors down from the Weber home, shut off the engine and then looked over at her partner, somewhat stunned by his unusually forceful language.
“What?” he asked. “It’s the truth. They hate the fact that you’re the kind of rock star they could only dream of being someday.”
“Thank you.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t say anything you don’t already know.”
“It means a lot to know you have my back.”
“Always.”