Chapter Thirteen
In the morning, Sam had breakfast with the kids and was on her way out the door when Nick came downstairs, fresh from a workout and a shower and dressed for work. He had his phone in hand and a frown on his face.
“What fresh hell are you coming to deliver?”
“I was texting with the guys about a possible poker night in the next few weeks. Imagine my surprise when Freddie asked me how you were after seeing Conklin yesterday.”
He was pissed and a little hurt if her guess was correct. “Sorry that I didn’t mention it, but it was no big deal.”
“Seriously, Sam? It was no big deal to confront the man who sat on the info about who shot your dad for four years? That was just another day at the office?”
“Okay, so it was a thing, and I dealt with it. Then Tara was found dead, and that took over my day. It’s called compartmentalizing. It’s my special gift.”
“You should’ve told me.”
“Yes, I should have, and I’m sorry you had to hear it from Freddie. He needs to learn to keep his big mouth shut.”
“Don’t make this about him. He was concerned about you, as I would’ve been had I known.”
“I’m sorry. It was the last thing I wanted to talk about when I got home last night. You were so stressed out. I didn’t want to add to it.”
That seemed to pacify him somewhat. “We’ve come a million miles from the days when you kept shit from me.”
“Yes, we have, and this wasn’t me keeping it from you. This was me not wanting to relive it even with you.”
He slipped an arm around her. “I hate that you have to deal with that guy in any capacity.”
Sam wanted to wallow in the fresh, clean smell of him. If only she had time to wallow. “So do I, but he has information that I want.”
“What information does he have?”
“I’m trying to figure out where the anonymous tip came from, the one that said the answers were closer than they seemed, to look inside our own house and City Hall.”
“Someone else in the department knew.”
“Yes, and concealing evidence in an attempted murder is a felony. If I’m working with another felon, I want to know who it is.”
“I understand that need to know, but you also need to protect yourself, Sam. The wound of your father’s loss is new and raw, and I’d hate to see it reopened when it’s beginning to scab over.”
She grimaced. “Thank you for that colorful metaphor.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know you are.” Looking up at him she said, “Is it weird that I want to stand here and smell you for a few more minutes before I go to work?”
“Yes, it’s very weird.”
She burrowed into him. “Okay then. You’re married to a weirdo.”
“You say that like it’s news to me.”
Smiling, she took deep breaths of the scent of home. “Don’t be mad at me. You’ll ruin my whole day.”
“I’m not mad, and don’t you be mad at Freddie. He’s looking out for you like always.”
“I know.”
“Are you done smelling me yet, weirdo?”
“Not quite.”
That’s where Shelby found them when she came bustling through the front door, her baby son, Noah, strapped to her chest in a sling that he would soon outgrow.
“What’s going on?” she asked Nate, the agent working the door.
“Mom is smelling Dad. He says she’s weird.”
“Ah,” Shelby said. “Business as usual around here, I see.”
“Indeed,” Nate replied.
Sam shook with silent laughter. Someday the agents would write a book about their tenure with the Cappuanos. They would have plenty of material to work with. “I think I’m done now.”
Before he released her, Nick kissed her and whispered in her ear. “Be careful with my wife. She may be a weirdo, but she’s my weirdo.”
“Will do. Have Harry take your BP today and send me a report.”
“That’s not happening.”
“That’s what you think.” Sam gave Noah a smooch on the forehead. “Your charges are in the kitchen—washed, dressed and fed.”
“Excellent,” Shelby said.
“You all have a nice day,” Sam said
“You do the same, ma’am,” Nate said when he opened the door for her.
Sam went down the ramp and got into her car, fortified by the time with her family and ready to face whatever this day had in store for her. At the checkpoint, she was dismayed to find that the jackals had multiplied overnight, and the Secret Service had added additional agents to the usual group.
The need for enhanced security spiked her anxiety. All those people wanting something from her family made her crazy. And again, what did they think they were going to get staking out their home? Was Nick going to suddenly get chatty with them about the murder of the president’s mistress? Hardly.
It took much longer than it should have for her to get through the checkpoint and accelerate out of there, leaving the screaming reporters behind. And people thought her job was fucked-up. That was fucked-up.
Her phone rang with a call from Darren Tabor.
“What’s up, Darren?”
“You asked me to let you know the details for Roni’s husband’s service.”
Patrick Connolly, an up-and-coming DEA agent had been killed by a stray bullet. His wife, Roni, worked with Darren, and Sam recently had the dreadful task of telling her that her new husband had been killed.
“Sam? Are you there?”
“I’m here.”
“The service is on Thursday. The DEA administrator pulled some strings and it’s going to be at the National Cathedral.”
“That’s great. By all accounts, he certainly deserves the honor. I was hoping to be there for the service, but now that we’ve caught the Weber case, I can’t get away from work. Will you tell her I’d planned to attend and I’m sorry I can’t?”
“Sure. It’s not like you to get so personally involved.”
“You think you know me well enough to say that?”
“Yep.”
“I feel for her. How could anyone not feel for her?”
“She’s a special person, and they were a special couple. It’s still so hard to believe it happened. Everyone who knows them is in total shock.”
“I can only imagine.” Roni was living Sam’s worst nightmare. Maybe that was why Sam felt so deeply for her.
“While I have you, you got anything for me on the Weber murder or how you and the VP are handing this latest insanity in the White House?”
“I’ll do a briefing on Weber at some point today, and I got nada on the other thing.”
“Come on, Sam. You must have something. People are saying Nelson isn’t going to survive this.”
“They also said that when his son committed murder.”
“The only reason he survived that was because you and Nick gave him a pass.”
“And we did that because we believed him and his wife when they told us they had no idea what their nefarious son was up to.”
“People are disgusted that he cheated on Gloria when she was sick.”
“It’s a pretty disgusting thing to do, but that’s not for attribution.”
“What do we know about the baby? Is it his?”
“We won’t know for certain until we get a paternity test.”
“Is that happening?”
“It’s on my list for today, but that’s off-the-record. Where did the reports about the affair come from? Do you know?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Can you do some digging and see if you can uncover the source for me?”
“I can do that, in exchange for a comment from the second couple on the current scandal engulfing the Nelson administration?” he asked hopefully.
“Dream on, Darren.”
“Do you have any understanding of the concept of quid pro quo?”
“Yep, but in this case I want the quid without the pro quo.” Sam laughed at her own joke. That was a pretty good one, if she said so herself.
“You think you’re so funny.”
“I am kinda funny. Ask anyone.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Whatever you say. I’ll see what I can find out and pass it along. And when I do, I’ll have a pro quo in my account that I will cash in at a date to be determined in the future.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I give you more exclusives than anyone else. Next thing I know, people will say I’m banging you on the side.”
“Sam, I never knew you liked me that way.”
“Go to work, Darren.” She ended the call to the sound of his laughter.
Cheeky bastard. Theirs was an odd friendship that consisted mostly of him trying to get her to tell him things she didn’t want to talk about.
But he did her a solid from time to time, and she would never forget his kindness the day her dad died or the hell they’d faced together when they had to tell Roni about her husband’s death.
Sam pulled into the parking lot at HQ, which was full of those damned satellite trucks. Didn’t they have anything else to cover? Wasn’t the government doing something that needed their attention? Apparently not, if the trucks parked on Ninth Street and at HQ were any indication.
When they saw her drive in, they gave chase.
“Shit!” She pressed the accelerator and gunned it toward the morgue entrance, pulling into the first parking spot she found and then bolting for the door. As she came flying through the door, she nearly crashed into Lindsey.
“Good morning to you, too, Lieutenant.”
“Hey.”
“What’s up?”
Sam gestured over her shoulder, where one of her worst nightmares was unfolding. The jackals had discovered the morgue entrance that she regularly used to dodge them.
“Are you being pursued?”
“You could call it that. They’re camped out at my house and here. Not sure what they think they’re going to get from me. I’m not exactly known for my verbosity where they’re concerned.”
Lindsey laughed. “True. How’re you guys holding up? Terry said last night that he’s not sure what’s going to happen this time. Nelson’s made a bad mess for himself.”
“We’re holding up fine, but we’d be better if the media would leave us alone. We aren’t going to talk about it now or ever.”
“I hate to say it, but if the worst happens, you’ll have to talk about it.”
Sam scowled at her. “That’s not going to happen, do you hear me?”
Lindsey did a terrible job of trying to hide her smile. “If you say so, Lieutenant.”
“I say so, and what I say goes.”
“Gotcha. Is Nick okay?”
“He’s stressed, and I hate that. He has awful insomnia on a good day. This makes a bad situation worse.”
“I feel for him. When he agreed to take Gooding’s place, who could’ve seen all this coming?”
“Not him and not us, that’s for sure. What’ve you got for me on the Weber autopsy.”
“Come on in, and we’ll talk.”
Sam followed Lindsey into the cold, antiseptic-smelling lab. She hated this place more than anywhere else on the planet. Even after years of working in Homicide, she never got used to the things she saw in here.
Lindsey pulled the sheet down to reveal Tara’s face and neck, which bore the signs of manual strangulation.
“Tell me you were able to get some prints off her neck?”
“I was, but they’re not in the system.”
“Great, so we’re looking for a possible first-time offender.”
“Or someone who’s never been caught before.”
“Who starts with murder?” Sam took a closer look at Tara’s injuries. “Any sign of sexual assault?”
“No, and for that I’m very thankful since she recently gave birth.”
Sam winced at the thought of the poor woman being sexually assaulted right after giving birth. “What I want to know is how did she end up naked? She went home to get a few things and was planning to return to her parents’ home right away. Why was she naked?”
“I wish I could tell you more. I put her time of death right around one o’clock yesterday afternoon. Sorry I don’t have more for you.”
“Thanks for trying. Send me the full report when you have it.”
“Will do. Have a good day and let me know if I can do anything for you or Nick.”
“I will. Thanks.”