Chapter Twenty-Four
Sam had almost forgotten about Avery waiting for her in the conference room, until she returned to the pit with Valerie in tow and heard him in there talking on the phone.
Days like this tested her fortitude, and this one wasn’t over yet by a long shot.
Then she remembered the grief group meeting, and she groaned out loud.
“What’s wrong, Lieutenant?” Cameron Green asked.
“Everything is wrong. I hate this case, my partner got taken hostage, I’ve got the proctology meeting with Hill and the grief group tonight, and this day has officially reached endless status. Other than that, I’m dandy.”
Green’s lips quivered as his eyes danced with amusement.
“If you laugh, you’re fired.”
“I wouldn’t dare laugh, but I do have something that might interest you.”
“What’s that?”
Cameron glanced at Valerie, brow raised in inquiry.
“This is Valerie, a criminal justice senior at American,” Sam said. “Valerie, this is Detective Cameron Green. She’s interning with me today. You can speak freely in front of her.”
“Two things. One, Jeannie got signed statements from all of Ken Sr.’s golfing buddies that he was on the course all afternoon.”
“Well, that’s something, I guess.”
“This is even better,” Cam said. “Multiple trips to the Cayman Islands by our friend Mandi McLeod over the last two years.”
“Okay…”
“You know the Cayman Islands are a tax haven, right?” Cameron asked.
“They’re a popular place to store money you don’t want subjected to taxes,” Valerie added.
“That’s right,” Cam said, seeming impressed by the young woman.
“I think I knew that,” Sam said, intrigued by the info. “The Feds didn’t pick up on the trips?”
“I don’t think they did, because they investigated Ginny and Ken—hard—but didn’t dig much deeper.
I found this connection through the daughter’s social media, a private Instagram account called Finsta that I managed to access through means we’re better off not discussing.
She posted five different sunset shots that were tagged at Seven Mile Beach, Georgetown, Grand Cayman, over the last two years. ”
“Multiple trips or pics from the same trip?”
“Judging by the dates, four different trips.”
“And there’s no sign of the parents being there at the same time?”
“Nothing public and no sign of the expenditures on their financials from around those dates. I figure Mandi must’ve paid under some sort of alias or had a fake passport or some way to travel undetected.”
“This is great work, as usual, Detective. Go pick up Mandi McLeod at Catholic University.” Sam wrote down the name of the dorm and her room number. “Take O’Brien with you and ask Patrol to back you up.” After Freddie’s mishap earlier, she was taking no chances.
“Will do.”
“We’ll let Ms. McLeod spend the night at the three-hots-and-a-cot hotel downstairs and deal with her in the morning.”
“Are we charging her?”
“Not yet. Let me talk to her first and get a feel for what she knew and when she knew it. To hear her tell it earlier, she was nothing but outraged at what her mother did. I’m not sure if she was a willing coconspirator or she took four innocent vacations to the Cayman Islands over two years.
And until I know which, I don’t want to charge her. ”
“Got it.”
“Give me an update when you’re back with her.”
“Will do.”
“After that, you can take a half day.”
Cameron laughed. “Gee, thanks, Lieutenant. You’re a generous boss.”
“I do what I can for the people.” Referring to the legendary Skip Holland Half Day made her feel closer to her dad.
“So,” Sam said to Valerie, “that’s about what it’s like around here on any given day.”
“This has been the coolest day of my entire life. Watching you interrogate suspects was breathtaking. You’re so good.”
“Thank you.” Sam handed her a business card. “Call me when you’re ready to start your career. I might be able to help.”
“I’ll never forget how getting hassled on the Metro turned into the best thing to ever happen to me.”
“Please don’t repeat anything you saw or heard here.”
“I never would. Can I hug you and take a selfie?”
“If you promise to make it quick and not post the selfie on social media.”
“Swear to God.”
Sam gave her ten seconds for the hug and the photo. “Keep in touch.”
“I absolutely will. Thank you again for an unforgettable day.”
“Sure thing.” Sam watched her head toward the lobby exit, hoping she’d hear from Valerie again. She had a feeling the young woman would make an outstanding law enforcement officer.
“Lieutenant,” Avery called from the conference room. “Ready when you are.”
“Ugh, the proctologist beckons.”
“You do have a way with words, LT,” Green said as he signaled for O’Brien to join him as they went to find Mandi McLeod.
“I’m coming, Hill. Let me grab my water.
” She went into her office, took her hair down from the clip that held it out of her way while she worked and found the now-warm bottle of water she’d bought earlier from a vending machine in the break room.
Chugging half of it, she grabbed a pad and pen and went into the conference room to get the meeting with Hill over with.
“I’m here. What do you want?”
He grinned as he stood to close the conference room door. “Charming, as always.”
“Charm is my middle name.” Sam always hated to admit, even to herself, that Avery Hill was a fine-looking man with light brown hair he wore swept back off his forehead, prominent cheekbones, golden eyes and a South Carolinian accent that could make even the most stalwart of panties go damp.
Her friend Shelby Faircloth, Avery’s new wife, was one lucky woman.
Not that Sam ever gave him a thought when he wasn’t right in front of her face, but she never failed to notice how handsome he was.
“What can I do for you, Agent Hill?” she asked, using her sweetest, most solicitous tone.
“I want to talk to you about some of your favorite people—Stahl, Conklin and Hernandez.”
“Oh joy. My favorite old boys’ club.”
“Before we do that, though, I wanted to tell you my team is doing some digging into your mother-in-law. Nothing to report yet, but we’re finding some interesting things.”
“That doesn’t surprise me in the least. She’s scum.”
“It might take a while, since we’re doing this between other things.”
“That’s no problem. Whatever it takes.”
“So about the reason we’re here… I’m sorry to do this to you, Sam. I truly am.”
She shrugged. “I’m starting to get past the initial shock of Conklin and Hernandez, and I’m well past the realization that Stahl was always a dick.”
“We’re reviewing their past cases and digging deep into whether Conklin and Hernandez’s involvement in your dad’s case was a one-off or if there was a pattern.”
Sam’s stomach dropped. “Jesus. It never occurred to me that Dad’s case could be the tip of an iceberg. The thought of there being more makes me feel sick.”
“You and a lot of other people around here. I want you to know—we’re not looking to discredit this department as a whole. Only the people who deserve to be discredited. We’re well aware of the great work you and many others are doing here every day.”
“Thank you for that, but I certainly know that not everyone approaches the job the same way you and I do.”
“When you think back to working with Stahl and Conklin, what stands out?”
“Stahl was always a pain in the ass because he could as the LT. And when he moved to Internal Affairs, it was even worse. He was drunk on his own power. He tried to make an issue out of overhearing Detective Arnold make a joke about how he hadn’t been invited to my wedding.”
“What kind of issue?”
“An IAB hearing kind of issue. He never missed a chance to bust my balls any way he could think of. It was nonstop. When he was my actual boss, it was a full-on nightmare for me.”
“Did you know why?”
“Nope. I assumed it had something to do with my dad. They came up through the ranks together, never got along, butted heads, etc. So when Stahl had Skip’s daughter under his command, he made sure to fully maximize the opportunity.”
“That must’ve been fun.”
“All kinds of fun that occurred at the same time I was married to passive-aggressive Peter, and my father had been recently paralyzed in a shooting on the job. Neither my boss nor my husband gave me an ounce of slack during that time. Let me tell you, those were the good old days.”
“Sounds like it. Did you suspect Stahl of cutting corners when he was your LT?”
“All the time. He was constantly telling us to hurry up, get him something, didn’t matter what it was. Mostly, we ignored him, but he was relentless in his efforts to close cases at any cost.”
“Do you think he manufactured evidence or anything like that?”
“Not that I could ever prove, but his methodology was always questionable.”
“How so?”
“He would skip over people the rest of us wanted to interview and tell us to focus on the most likely suspect, but I’ve found the most likely suspect isn’t immediately obvious.”
“Can you think of any cases that might’ve been glossed over or handled badly by Stahl, Conklin, Hernandez or anyone else, for that matter?”
“As a matter of fact… Hang on a second.” Sam left the conference room to go into her office to retrieve the Worthington file.
When she returned, she closed the door and laid the file folder on the table.
“Calvin Worthington, age fifteen, was fatally shot in Southeast on his own property fifteen years ago.” She placed a photo of the smiling young man on the table and pushed it across to Avery, followed by the medical examiner’s photo of the chest wound that’d ended his life.