Chapter Twenty-Five
Sam watched him go, worried about him and everyone who’d worked on this case. Then she went upstairs to find Captain Norris of Public Affairs so she could educate him and his team on the manosphere and incel culture.
Thirty minutes later, the faces of the PA team were blank with shock, even though most of them had seen her briefing. She’d given them many more details than she’d provided to the media.
“Is this for real?” Norris asked.
“Unfortunately, yes, and as our case will show, these beefs and the resulting thirst for vengeance led to the murder of Luna Ahern. You should expect to receive follow-up questions from the media.”
“We already are,” one of the younger officers said. She held up her phone. “Multiple emails and texts asking for clarification.”
“What’re we supposed to say,” Norris asked, “when we’ve never heard of any of this until now?”
“You could say we’ll release more information when we have it.”
“That’s a good plan,” Norris said. “That’s what we’ll do. Thanks for the briefing, Lieutenant.”
“Of course. No problem.”
“We’re getting a lot of questions about your nephew, your sister’s family, your involvement in the investigation and whether your nephew will be charged,” another of the younger officers said.
Sam experienced a flash of anger that had her considering some choice words for the media.
But since that would only make everything worse, she said, “You can say Ethan Hogan and Tomas Cambra were kidnapped and are victims in this crime. Their families are handling the aftermath privately and will have nothing further to say to the media about Ethan, nor will Lieutenant Holland.”
One of the officers wrote down the statement.
“Please don’t deviate from that or give them any openings for further exposition.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Thank you.” To Norris, she added, “You have my number if you need any more information.”
“I do. Thanks for coming up.”
Sam nodded and left their offices, heading downstairs to hers, but taking an odd vibe from Norris with her.
After the Ramsey/Offenbach nightmare, she was hypersensitive to such vibes, but she was also determined not to be sidetracked by them.
Whatever issues people had with her were their problem, not hers.
On the first floor, she hung a right to see if Dr. Trulo was still in his office. His door was closed, so she started to leave. A second later, he called out to her.
Sam turned back. “Hey, I thought you were in a session.”
“I was on the phone, but I’m done now. You want to come in?”
She followed him into his office and took a seat. “I want to talk to you about Captain Malone.”
“What about him?”
“He was on the Ahern case and took it hard. I’ve never seen him so upset. I suggested he check in with you, and he said he would, but…”
“I’ll reach out to him.”
“Thank you.”
“How are you? And how’s your nephew?”
“He’s safe, thankfully. I’m not sure if there’ll be long-term effects, but for now, we’re very grateful to have him back at home where he belongs.”
“I was very saddened to hear about Luna.”
“We all were. It’s unbearable. What do you know about this incel culture stuff?”
“I’ve read a lot about it and how it’s tied into cases over the years.”
“One more thing for women to be afraid of.”
“Is there anything I can do for you, friend? It’s been a rougher-than-usual couple of weeks for you.”
“Thank you, but I’m okay. I need to get back to work on our other case.”
“Don’t be afraid to take a break if you need one.”
“I won’t.”
“Check in with me.”
“Yes, Doc,” she said with pretend exasperation.
“I mean it, Sam. You just had two now ex-colleagues plot to kill you and a nephew kidnapped in a case that involved the murder of a young girl. Please don’t act like either of those things is normal.”
“I hear you, and I appreciate you. I’ll keep in touch.”
“See that you do.”
Sam would keep her promise to be in contact with him. There was a time, not that long ago, when she would’ve resented his insistence—and his interference. But he’d helped her too much in the past to discount the impact of his involvement in her life and career.
Back in the pit, she found Gonzo consulting with Lindsey McNamara. “What’s up, guys?”
“We have DNA matches for both Mayfields,” Lindsey reported.
“Despite his criminal history, I’d really hoped the kid was just another of his dad’s victims and not as much of a monster as his father is,” Sam said with a sigh.
“I said the same thing,” Gonzo replied.
Lindsey handed Sam a copy of the printed report.
“I’ll get with Charity about updating the charges against both of them. Thanks for the quick work, Doc.”
“No problem.” Lindsey glanced at Sam, her green eyes brimming with tears. “They made her suffer before they killed her. I hope they rot in prison for the rest of their miserable lives.”
“We’ll see to it,” Sam said.
Lindsey nodded and walked away.
“I so don’t want to read this report,” Sam said.
“Me either,” Gonzo said.
Sam had to remind herself that she was the commanding officer in the Homicide division, and it was her job to know the details of what’d happened to Luna Ahern so she could ensure justice for the girl and her family.
She took a deep breath and turned toward her office, determined to do whatever was necessary to put the Mayfields away for life, even though she had to absorb details that would haunt her forever.
She’d do it for Luna.
And then she’d go see Luna’s mother.
Tracy dreaded having to tell Ethan that Luna was dead.
He’d been quiet and withdrawn since they’d brought him home from the hospital as he seemed to be processing the events of the past forty-eight hours.
She’d been in touch with his therapist, Dr. Christi Trulo-Carpenter, the daughter of Sam’s colleague.
Christi had offered to come to the house in the morning, and Tracy had gratefully accepted.
Ethan was in no condition to go anywhere. Not now, anyway.
She carried a tray upstairs to Ethan’s room, which Brooke and Nate had put back to rights after the house had been searched for evidence.
Though she’d understood the necessity, Tracy felt further violated having their things rifled through by strangers.
She told herself the only thing that mattered was that her son was home safe, but after having been through the aftermath of Brooke’s assault, she knew the healing wouldn’t happen overnight.
When the dust settled, she’d be left to wonder who she’d pissed off in a previous life that had led to two of her three children being the victims of traumatic crimes.
Ethan was sitting up in bed, a pile of pillows behind him, covered by the Capitals’ team blanket she’d bought him for Christmas.
“I made you some of that chicken noodle soup you like,” she said as she placed the tray on his lap. “With oyster crackers, of course.”
They were his favorite.
“Thanks.”
She’d also made him a cup of hot chocolate with marshmallows and had put yellow sandwich cookies in a bowl, hoping that seeing his favorites would get him to eat something.
But he only stared down at the tray, unseeing.
“Have a bite, honey. You need to keep up your strength.” Tracy picked up the spoon to feed him like she had when he was a baby.
Thankfully, he opened his mouth to take the bite she offered.
They kept that up for several quiet minutes while he ate most of the soup and a handful of the crackers.
“You want some hot chocolate? It’s got the marshmallows you love.” She handed him the mug, and he took a sip.
“Thank you.”
He’d taken the bandages off the wounds on his wrists, which were red and raw.
“Is there any news about Luna?” he asked for the hundredth time.
Tracy hesitated, only for a second, but it was enough to alert him to something he didn’t want to hear.
“No.”
“I’m so sorry, honey.”
“Oh my God. She’s dead? She’s really dead?”
“She is.”
He let out an anguished cry that was so loud, Mike came running from wherever he was to see what was wrong.
Tracy took the mug, removed the tray, put it on the floor and crawled into bed to wrap her arms around Ethan as he sobbed.
His heartbroken wails wrecked her.
“What happened?” Mike asked.
Tracy ignored him to keep her focus on Ethan. He didn’t need to hear the news again. She hadn’t seen Ethan cry like this since he’d broken his wrist as a six-year-old, and it killed her to see him suffering. He also hadn’t clung to her in years the way he was now.
“Shhh, honey. Take a breath.”
He was on the verge of hyperventilating.
Mike sat on the other side of the bed and put his hand on Ethan’s back.
Thankfully, Mike didn’t ask any other questions. Maybe he’d figured out what’d happened.
Over the next half hour, Ethan cried himself to sleep, hiccupping with sobs long after he was asleep.
Tracy carefully extricated herself, hoping he’d sleep for a while. She put the bowl of cookies on his bedside table, picked up the tray and tiptoed out of the room, aware of Mike following her downstairs to the kitchen.
As she put dishes in the dishwasher and wiped the counter, she felt him hovering in the background.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“Luna is dead.”
He gasped. “Oh God. Oh my God.”
Tracy turned to him as he sat at the kitchen table, hands over his face as his shoulders shook with sobs.
Excluding the men who’d been involved in her father’s shooting and eventual murder, Tracy had never been angrier at anyone than she was at him. She could see no possible way forward for their marriage after this.
After a long silence, Mike raised his head and looked at her, as if seeking answers or insight into how they might cope with this horrible tragedy.
She had nothing for him. Her entire focus was on Ethan—and Abby, who’d also want an explanation for what’d occurred.
She’d barely thought of her younger daughter in hours as she’d cared for Ethan and tried not to fall apart.
Knowing Abby was with her mother and had been able to go to the party she’d looked forward to made Tracy feel better.