Chapter Thirty-Two
“Lieutenant.”
She turned toward the ATF agent who’d called out to her. “Yes?”
“You were in the building during the bombing?”
“I was.”
“We’re asking everyone who was here to do an interview.”
“Okay.”
“Can you do yours now?”
She had so many other things she needed to be doing, including getting back to figuring out next steps in the Bingham case, but she simply nodded and followed him to a conference room on the other side of the building from the pit.
“I’m Agent Michael Lawler.” He had the beefy build of an ex-football player or wrestler. His head was shaved bald, and he had a dark goatee.
Sam shook his outstretched hand. “Good to meet you.”
“You as well.” He pointed to a recording device. “Do you mind if I record this?”
“Nope.”
“Agent Michael Lawler with Lieutenant Sam Holland. You were in the Metropolitan Police Department headquarters at the time of the explosion correct?”
“I was.”
“Where were you in proximity to the lobby?”
“I was in the hallway that leads to the morgue, speaking with Vernon Rogers, the lead agent on my Secret Service detail. We were both knocked off our feet by the force of the blast. Vernon hit his head but is okay. I was uninjured, other than experiencing some ringing in my ears that lasted a few hours.”
“Was anyone else in the hallway with you?”
“Not until after the blast when people came running.”
“What did you do in the immediate aftermath?”
“I tended to Vernon, who assured me he was all right, and then I ran to check on my team and then to the lobby to see where I could help.”
“Do you have any other thoughts or impressions you’d like to share?”
“Nothing other than obvious heartbreak over the loss of four lives and the loss of… Well, I guess… Losing the feeling of being mostly safe in my workplace. It never occurred to me that something like this could happen here until it did.”
“It’s a kick in the teeth.”
“For sure.”
“I’ll admit that my first thought was that someone was coming for you.”
Her heart sank. “Really?”
He shrugged. “You’d be a tempting target. Doesn’t that ever worry you?”
“Worry me how?”
“That your very presence here could be a threat to everyone you work with. How do you live with that?”
Sam needed to get out of there before she lost her composure. “Is there anything else, Agent Lawler?”
“No, I’m good.”
Sam got up and left the room, feeling like she’d been punched in the chest. He hadn’t needed to say that to her. Fuck him and anyone else who put the blame for the bombing anywhere but where it belonged—with the Russians.
She returned to the pit, loaded for bear.
“Everyone in the conference room in ten.” In her office, she shut the door and took a second to calm down.
Why had the agent felt the need to toss that grenade at her when they already knew who’d bombed HQ?
It was infuriating, especially coming from a fellow law enforcement officer who should have her back.
Since Nick had become president, and maybe even vice president, she wasn’t “one of them” anymore.
She’d been elevated by her husband’s lofty career, which was the last thing she’d ever want, to be “othered” within the blue brother- and sisterhood.
But it was now a reality of her life and one she’d have to cope with as long as she was determined to stay on the job, which she was.
She didn’t need to hear that someone like Lawler, who didn’t even work there, felt like she was endangering others by showing up to do her job.
After a knock at the door, Malone came in.
He took one look at her and said, “What’s wrong?”
She was about to say nothing, but he knew her too well to get away with that. “Remember when you promised you’d tell me if you thought I shouldn’t be here anymore?”
“I do.”
She met his gaze.
“You did a good job with the briefing. Thank you.”
“Are you changing the subject?”
“Not intentionally. You asked me a question, and I answered it. Nothing else to say about that, is there?”
Sam crossed her arms, needing the protection against unruly emotions that had her questioning everything. “No, sir.”
“Are you sure?”
“No, sir.”
“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”
“You have far more important things to worry about.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
“An ATF agent said a thing. About how he initially thought the bomb was directed at me and asked how I live with myself knowing my very presence here is a threat to the safety of everyone I work with.”
“When did he say that?”
“About fifteen minutes ago.”
“So, long after we knew who bombed us and why.”
“Yes.”
“Are you letting someone who’s jealous he’ll never have the swagger you’ve got make you doubt every choice you’ve made in your life?”
Now she felt silly. “Kind of.”
“Don’t be stupid. What do you care what some agent you’ll probably never see again thinks of you?”
“I don’t, but it makes me wonder if everyone else is thinking the same thing.”
“So what if they are? The people in here, the ones you deal with every day, are the only ones you need to be concerned about. And those of us who actually work with you are damned thankful you’re here, because you get the job done like no one else ever has—and anyone with a beef is jealous because they’ll never be you.
I promised you I’d tell you if the White House gig was getting in the way of this one, and I will. Today is not that day.”
His passionately spoken words brought tears to her eyes. “Thank you, Cap.”
“Don’t give them five seconds of your time or energy.”
“Yes, sir. In other news, Nick has chosen a new VP.”
“That was fast.”
“It’s Graham O’Connor.”
“Wow, that’s great.”
“He’s hoping that having Graham on board will take care of some of the inexperience shit.”
“It definitely will. Good choice.”
“He’s announcing it at five and asked me to be there.”
“Of course you need to be there. That’s some exciting stuff.”
“It is. Nick feels he’ll get easy confirmation from the Senate.”
“I would think so.”
“I’ll come back after, if need be.”
“Let’s see what happens.”
“Was there something else you needed when you came in?”
“Only to say good job with the jackals.”
“Thanks. I’m gathering the team in the conference room to see where we are with Bingham and Ivanov, if you’d care to join us.”
“I’ve got a few minutes.”
“Lead the way.”
As always, it was a relief to air it out with the captain, who always had her back even when she was teetering on the edge of a breakdown.
He was right. She couldn’t let people who didn’t matter live rent-free in her mind.
Lawler’s opinion of her was none of her business.
Nor were the opinions of others who might feel like she was being selfish for continuing to work while Nick was president.
Fuck them all, she thought as she entered a room full of people who were glad she showed up every day to do a job most people couldn’t handle.
“Where are we with tracking down King Robinson’s friends?” Sam asked when she took the seat at the head of the table.
“We found one locally, by the name of Domenic Conti. He’s a junior at George Mason,” O’Brien said.
“We talked to him at his restaurant job in Georgetown. He seemed relieved to hear that someone is finally doing something about King’s murder.
It was, he said, ‘complete bullshit’ that no one was ever charged with killing him.
We asked what he knew King’s relationship with his parents.
The mom was cool, Domenic said, but the stepfather was an asshole. ”
“Did he give any examples?” Sam asked.
“King told him how Louis would toss the N-word around to make his point whenever he felt King was getting ‘uppity’ with him and forgetting who owned the house and paid for the food and all that. The guy was a dick, according to Domenic. King couldn’t wait to turn eighteen so he could get the hell away from Louis, but he worried about leaving his sister alone with him and the mom, who was, according to Domenic, useless in dealing with the shit her husband said to her kids. ”
“Why didn’t he ever report the things that King told him about his stepfather?” Freddie asked.
“He said it never occurred to him that Louis would’ve gone so far as to kill King because he was all talk. King never said Louis hit him or anything like that. When Domenic heard where King was found, he assumed it was a stranger who’d killed him.”
“This is great,” Sam said. “It backs up everything Amara said about how he treated them and talked to them. Will he be willing to testify?”
“He said he’d do anything he could to help get justice for King, who didn’t deserve what happened to him. Domenic teared up as we were leaving. He said he missed his friend and thought of him every day.”
“Good work. Thank you. Anyone else have anything to add on Bingham or Ivanov?”
“We got the film from the Naval Observatory,” Cameron Green said. “Freddie told me what we’re looking for, and we’ve got Curtis Henderson camped outside the gates for hours that night. This is the part you’ll find interesting, though.” He cued up a clip on the screen at the front of the room.
One of these days, she needed to figure out how to do that.
Green started the video, and they watched Ivanov emerge from the observatory grounds wearing the same white T-shirt and black shorts he’d been wearing when he was pushed out of the SUV.
Curtis waved him over to the car, and after chatting for a few minutes, Ivanov got in the passenger side before they drove off together.
“Henderson waited for Ivanov to leave and then offered him a ride, probably all friendly and stuff,” Sam said.
“Ivanov sees a familiar face and thinks, ‘Hey, why not? I know this guy, and it beats walking.’ Now to find out where they went. Cruz, see if Henderson is ready to continue our conversation.”
Freddie left the room to see to her order.
“What’s the plan?” Malone asked.