Chapter Nineteen
“Probably waiting for you,” Freddie said. “They know you’re close to the chief.”
“What do they think they’ll get from me?”
“Video of you going in to check on your friend and colleague who was injured in a bombing at your workplace.”
“Huh.”
“Why is that not obvious to you?” he asked, sounding amused.
“I still don’t get why people care so much about me.”
“Do I need to explain that to you, too?”
“Don’t get sassy with me, young Freddie.”
“Well… You make it too easy. In case you need reminding, the whole world is interested in you, your husband, your kids and your dog.”
“The dog is the most popular of us all.”
“Because she’s too cute for words, and Scotty’s commentary about her is brilliant. Remind me to show you their account when we’re not in the midst of chaos.”
“When will that be? Can you give me a time frame so I can look forward to it?”
“I’ll get back to you on that.”
“Y’all are funny,” Dana said.
“We’re nonstop comedy around here,” Sam said, “which may seem irreverent in light of what we’re dealing with. But it’s our coping mechanism.”
“I get it. If you don’t laugh, you’ll cry.”
“That’s the gist.”
“So with Thelma…” Sam said, “I’m thinking I’d like to see her treated as a victim and not as a criminal. She lived in fear of him harming her and her daughter, so she kept her mouth shut about what he’d done.”
“You’ll need to make that case to McDermott.”
“I think the fact that we have mother and daughter independently telling the exact same story should be enough for her.”
“I sure as heck hope so, because we’re not coming up with anything else.”
“Do you mind going to check on Jeannie while I’m with the chief?” Sam asked Freddie.
“Will do.”
“Meet me at the chief’s room when you come back.”
Q dodged numerous cars and press trucks to deliver them right to the emergency entrance, which would deny the media their B-roll of the first lady rushing to the side of her injured chief.
As she walked through the waiting room with Q and Dana, the roar of voices went silent as they realized who’d arrived.
Dana, walking on her right, kept anyone from approaching Sam.
Freddie took off for the elevators to the left.
“I’m here to see Joe Farnsworth,” Sam said to the woman at the desk.
“Are you a relative?”
“I’m his niece.”
She raised a skeptical brow.
“Ask his wife,” Sam added. “She’ll confirm it if you’re not inclined to believe me.”
“You’re the niece of the chief of police?”
“I am.”
Apparently, that tidbit hadn’t made it into the extensive media coverage of her life, family and career.
“I’ll be right back,” the receptionist said.
Sam glanced at Q. “She really doesn’t believe me.”
“That fact of your life isn’t well publicized.”
“Why would I lie to her face and give her fodder to sell to a tabloid?”
“A good question.”
The receptionist returned with a chagrined expression and a stormy-looking Dr. Rob Anderson, ER attending physician, who’d become Sam’s friend one catastrophe at a time.
Anderson signaled Sam to follow him. He was tall, with close-cropped blond hair and a goatee that was new since she’d last seen him.
“We’re tight for space around here,” he said to Q and Dana. “Can we just have one of you?”
“Sure,” Q said. “I’ll go.”
In the past, Sam might’ve shot the receptionist a smug look, but she didn’t bother in the present. She liked to think she’d grown up a little since the days when that would’ve given her a temporary thrill. Now, she had more important things to do, starting with checking on her uncle.
“How is he?” Sam asked Anderson.
“He gave me permission to tell you he took a hard hit to the head and will need surgery on his wrist.”
“Ugh.” That would put him out of work for weeks.
Anderson pointed to a cubicle with an open door. “Right in there.”
She ducked her head around the curtain. “Hey, guys.”
“Come in, Sam,” Marti Farnsworth said as she stood to hug Sam.
Marti’s pretty face was puffy from crying.
“How’re you holding up?” Sam asked.
“Better now that he’s awake and talking to me,” Marti said.
“I’m fine,” Joe said gruffly.
Sam went to his bedside and took the hand that wasn’t wrapped in a splint. “Very happy to see you, sir.”
“Good to be seen.” He winced after a slight movement of his head. “Concussions suck.”
“Yes, they do. They take all the fun out of being injured.”
“Please don’t make me laugh.”
“Yes, sir.”
Marti adjusted the pillow his injured arm was resting on. “We’re waiting for a room upstairs. They’re keeping him overnight because of the concussion, and he’ll have surgery on his wrist, hopefully tomorrow.”
“I’m fine, honey. Don’t worry.”
She caressed his face as she gazed at him with tenderness. “Don’t boss me. I need to fuss so I won’t lose my composure.”
Sam came around the bed and rested her hands on Marti’s shoulders, giving a squeeze that drew a moan of pleasure from her aunt.
“Where’s Helen?” Sam asked.
“They took her to be checked out a while ago,” Marti said. “She said she’d come back when she was done.”
“What’re you hearing?” Joe asked Sam.
“Nothing yet, but the body of the Russian in the morgue was taken, along with Amara Robinson.”
“They took Amara?”
“They did. Possibly a case of wrong place, wrong time, but we don’t know yet.”
“The bombing has to be related to that dead Russian. They created a diversion.”
“That’s the working theory, but we’re trying to figure out why they’d resort to terrorism and risk a war to retrieve the body of the guy who was causing their government nothing but trouble.
Not to mention he was dumped from a diplomatic vehicle earlier, which must’ve been one of theirs.
You’d think they’d be glad to be well rid of him, so why would they dump him and then want him back badly enough to bomb HQ? ”
“Where the U.S. president’s wife works.”
“I’m very much hoping that fact has nothing to do with the bombing.”
“What would they want with Amara?”
“My guess is that they scooped her up as some sort of leverage or because she got in their way. Nick summoned the Russian ambassador to the White House to get some answers. He’ll order them to release Amara, if they have her, and return Ivanov’s body to our custody.”
“You think they will?”
“Maybe if it’s coming from him.”
“Enough shop talk, you two,” Marti said. “He needs to rest.”
“What can I do for you guys?”
“Have you heard anything about Jeannie?” Joe asked.
“Not since she was brought in earlier. Freddie is checking on her, and we’ll update Marti by text when we hear something.”
“What about Helen?”
“She was uninjured.”
“I can’t believe they had the nerve to bomb our house,” Joe said. “I want the FBI, ATF and anyone else who wants in on this.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll pass that along to the captain. I’m sure you’ll see him before the day’s out.”
“He’s doing what I need him to do at HQ. Keep me posted on anything you hear.”
Sam glanced at Marti as she said, “Yes, sir, I will. Thank you very much for not getting killed.”
His lips curled into a smile that turned into a grimace. “I do what I can for my people.”
She gasped at his use of her trademarked line. “I’ll let that slide this one time.”
“You’re a pal.”
She squeezed his hand. “So are you. Hang in there and do what you’re told.” Turning, she hugged Marti again. “Call me if you need anything at all.”
“I will. Thanks for coming by.”
“Love you both,” Sam said.
“We love you, too,” Marti replied.
“Did you hear all that?” Sam asked Freddie when she left the room.
“I did, and I passed his orders about the FBI and ATF on to Captain Malone.”
“You’re the best partner I’ve ever had.”
The compliment stopped him short as they walked toward the exit. “Really?”
“Duh, of course you are. What’s the story with Jeannie?”
“She’s in labor, and they’re trying to stop it.”
“No,” Sam said on a gasp. “It’s too soon!”
“Michael said the baby should be okay.”
“Should be. God, she must be terrified.” As she walked, Sam composed a text to Marti to update her and Joe on Jeannie’s condition.
“He said she’s holding up okay, all things considered, and he promised to keep us posted.”
“I want to find the motherfuckers who bombed our house and make them pay for hurting our friends and killing our colleagues.”
“I’m right there with you.”
Jeannie kept telling herself to remain calm, but her silent pep talks weren’t working. Her heart was beating so hard it felt like it might burst from her chest at any moment as another intense contraction followed the one before it.
She wasn’t ready for this. They still had two more birthing classes to go, and she hadn’t packed her hospital bag or finished shopping for the baby or finished up at work or—
“Jeannie.”
Michael’s voice penetrated the panic, forcing her to redirect her attention to his handsome face. “Breathe.”
“I am.”
“You’re not.”
“Then how am I still alive?”
“You need some deep breaths to calm the panic you’re trying so hard to keep hidden from me.”
“How are you so damned calm?”
“I’m not calm on the inside.” He sat on the edge of her bed, took her hand and coached her through another contraction.
The medicine she’d been given to stop them hadn’t worked. Since the baby wasn’t in any distress, they said she could attempt a vaginal delivery.
“Ever since I heard that HQ had been bombed, I’ve been anything but calm,” Michael said.
He’d removed his tie and suit coat and rolled up the sleeves of a light-blue dress shirt.
“I’m sorry that you have to receive that kind of news, far too often, when something happens at work.” She puffed her way through another contraction and fought a growing need to push. They’d said not to push until they told her to. “Where’s the nurse? I need to push.”
“I’ll get her.”