Fatal Identity
Fatal Identity
Marie Force
Every family has its secrets… As the first anniversary of her marriage to Vice President Nick Cappuano approaches, Lieutenant Sam Holland is dreaming of Bora Bora—sun, sand and a desperately needed break from the DC grind. But real life has a way of intervening, and Sam soon finds herself taking on one of the most perplexing cases of her career.Government worker Josh Hamilton begs Sam to investigate his shocking claim that his parents stole him from another family thirty years ago. More complicated still, his "father" is none other than the FBI director. When a member of Josh's family is brutally murdered, Sam begins to question how deep this cover-up goes. Is it possible the revered director was part of a baby-napping ring and that others involved are also targets?With a killer intent on deadly revenge and her team still reeling from a devastating loss, Sam's plate is full—and when Nick and their son, Scotty, take ill, is her dream of a tropical anniversary celebration in peril too?
Every family has its secrets...
As the first anniversary of her marriage to Vice President Nick Cappuano approaches, Lieutenant Sam Holland is dreaming of Bora Bora—sun, sand and a desperately needed break from the DC grind. But real life has a way of intervening, and Sam soon finds herself taking on one of the most perplexing cases of her career.
Government worker Josh Hamilton begs Sam to investigate his shocking claim that his parents stole him from another family thirty years ago. More complicated still, his “father” is none other than the FBI director. When a member of Josh’s family is brutally murdered, Sam begins to question how deep this cover-up goes. Is it possible the revered director was part of a baby-napping ring and that others involved are also targets?
With a killer intent on deadly revenge and her team still reeling from a devastating loss, Sam’s plate is full—and when Nick and their son, Scotty, take ill, is her dream of a tropical anniversary celebration in peril too?
Praise for the Fatal Series by New York Times bestselling author Marie Force
“Force’s skill is also evident in the way that she develops the characters, from the murdered and mutilated senator to the detective and chief of staff who are trying to solve the case. The heroine, Sam, is especially complex and her secrets add depth to this mystery... This novel is The O.C. does D.C., and you just can’t get enough.”
—RT Book Reviews on Fatal Affair (4½ stars)
“Force pushes the boundaries by deftly using political issues like immigration to create an intricate mystery.”
—RT Book Reviews on Fatal Consequences (4 stars)
“The romance, the mystery, the ongoing story lines...everything about these books has me sitting on the edge of my seat and begging for more. I am anxiously awaiting the next in the series. I give Fatal Deception an A.”
—TheBookPushers.com
“The suspense is thick, the passion between Nick and Sam just keeps getting hotter and hotter.”
—Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews on Fatal Deception
“The perfect mesh of mystery and romance.”
—Night Owl Reviews on Fatal Scandal (5 stars)
Fatal Identity
Marie Force
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For Uncle Bobby
1933–2016
Love you always.
Contents
Cover (#u57c2b4d9-8bdf-547a-9326-3350356b3332)
Back Cover Text (#uf581f31d-9666-5f2a-95d5-bcc519a9979b)
Praise (#u6e437f5a-c67b-56ac-82bf-70d53bb61193)
Title Page (#u0cc26640-4844-582b-b771-c472d10edc26)
Dedication (#u22d2a64c-6347-5e31-be4a-a4f171b02d9b)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_7111d4eb-2164-5856-a55b-6740279a7fb5)
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_40755a3e-c3d9-5006-a6eb-ac1cceef77cb)
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_69f3d10f-5662-5f12-a72b-5c6599a76624)
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_2744577e-9347-5672-ab1b-f7c3534df53b)
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_040c66ee-e39c-541c-80ae-41807b19f3a7)
CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_6cffcbc3-7add-5308-ad38-015d92d22deb)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_240907fc-c5bd-54c6-9798-3aed842dfc8a)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_7f85d0d4-dae7-5f45-9c7a-6e02ab8f8302)
CHAPTER NINE (#ulink_2a68ab30-8086-5174-8cef-1334ab94994b)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_b2f2ae0a-e6ea-571f-a540-aee9106f4bc4)
STANDING BEFORE THE Internal Affairs Board that would determine her fate, Detective Lieutenant Samantha “Sam” Holland was at peace. If they busted her down a rank or two, so be it. Her life would be a whole lot less complicated with someone else in charge of the Homicide unit. Sure, she’d rather be the boss, but having been the boss for more than a year now, she wouldn’t cry over letting someone else do it.
Of course, knowing there was no one else who could do it at the moment added to her peaceful, easy feeling. Her number two in command, Detective Sergeant Tommy “Gonzo” Gonzales, had understandably been a mess since his partner was gunned down right in front of him, and as he was the only one the brass would even consider for the top spot, Sam wasn’t worried.
Would there be some sort of hell to pay for punching Sergeant Ramsey in the face? Probably. Would she do it again if she had it to do over? Abso-fucking-lutely. He’d had it coming after what he’d said. I would’ve thought Stahl had taken some of the starch out of you... That any member of the department could make light of what their former colleague had done to her was beyond reprehensible. And besides, how was it her fault that Ramsey had fallen down the stairs, broken his wrist and given himself a concussion? The guy needed to learn to take a punch.
Deputy Chief Conklin cleared his throat, and something about the way he wouldn’t look at her made Sam nervous for the first time. “Lieutenant, we’ve reviewed the testimony provided by you and Detective Sergeant Ramsey about the incident in question. While we agree that Sergeant Ramsey’s comments were unfortunate and unnecessary, your actions amount to conduct unbecoming an officer of your rank and stature.”
Sam kept her expression blank even though her insides began to quiver like a bowl of gelatin. Crap. Here it comes, the reduction in rank. It’s okay, she told herself. It’ll be okay. This, right here, was why police officers commonly referred to IAB as “The Bureau of Proctology.”
“The board has agreed that you are to serve a four-day unpaid suspension effective immediately. Your first day back will be next Wednesday at zero seven hundred. Furthermore, you’ll be requested to make a one-thousand-dollar donation to the Widows and Children’s Fund. Finally, you should be aware that U.S. Attorney Forrester is considering criminal assault charges. That concludes this hearing. We’re adjourned.”
Conklin stood to leave the room, while Sam remained riveted in place, at once relieved and filled with dread over the possibility of criminal charges. She’d really stepped into a steaming pile this time, but she still didn’t regret punching that mouthy son of a bitch.
“Lieutenant.”
At the sound of Captain Malone’s deep voice, Sam looked up at her commander.
He took her by the elbow to lead her from the hearing room. “Could’ve been much worse,” he said in a low tone that only she could hear.
“How serious is Forrester about criminal charges?”
“The question is how serious Ramsey is about wanting to see your ass in a sling. He’s the one forcing Forrester’s hand by demanding he press charges.”
“Of course he is. As far as I’m concerned, Ramsey can kiss my ass.”
“You shouldn’t have hit him, Sam.”
“You would’ve hit him too if you’d been there.”
“Possibly.”
“Definitely.”
They walked back to the detectives’ pit where most of her squad was waiting for the results of the hearing.
Detective Freddie Cruz, Sam’s partner and close friend, jumped up when she and Malone entered the pit. “Well, what’d they say?”
“You’ll be glad to know you’re rid of me for the next four days, but like the flu, I’ll be back.”
His relieved expression was almost comical. “Thank goodness.”
“Lieutenant,” Detective Jeannie McBride said, “while you were at the hearing a man was here asking to speak with you. He said it was very important, and he would only talk to you.”
“Who was it?”
“He refused to leave his name,” Jeannie said. “But he was very insistent about speaking only to the vice president’s wife.”
“He asked for me that way?” Sam said. “That almost guarantees I won’t see him.”
“That’s what we told him. I think he’s gone now.”
“Um, Lieutenant,” Malone said, “I believe you were on your way out?”
Sam scowled at him and then went into her office to shut down her computer and grab her coat, purse and gloves. Then she closed and locked her door before addressing her squad. “Hold down the fort while I’m gone, and call me if you need me.”
“Don’t call her about police business, however,” Malone said, “because she can’t help you with that for the next four days.”
“They know that,” she said. “Don’t you?”
Mumbled replies of “yes, ma’am” followed her question.
Speaking only to Cruz, she said, “Where’s Gonzo?”
“No-show,” he said softly.
She gave his arm a squeeze. “I’ll check on him.”
“Let me know.”
“I will.”
Malone walked her out.
“Have you been assigned to escort me from the premises?”
“I volunteered.”
“Lucky me.” She glanced up at him as they went toward the lobby and main exit. “You’ll keep an eye on my squad for me, won’t you? They’re all a bit fragile these days after losing Arnold, and Gonzo is in no condition to be put in charge.”
“We know. I’ll be overseeing Homicide until you return. What do we know about where Sergeant Gonzales is today?”
Sam had hoped he wouldn’t notice Gonzo wasn’t in the pit. She should’ve known better. “We don’t know anything, but I’m going to find out what’s up as soon as I can.”
“I’ve noticed he’s been absent a lot lately.”
“He refused to take leave after Arnold was killed, but he’s called out sick a few times, and between you and me, I suspect it’s bottle flu more than actual sickness.”
“So he’s drinking.”
“I think so, and I can’t say I blame him. What he saw, right in front of him... And he blames himself because he let Arnold take the lead to get him to shut up. In the few times I’ve actually gotten him to talk to me, he says it should’ve been him.”
“He didn’t do anything wrong.”
“We both know that, but there’s no telling him.”
“Has he been keeping his appointments with Trulo?” Malone asked, referring to the department’s psychiatrist.
“Yeah, but I don’t see where it’s doing any good. He seems to be getting more withdrawn all the time.”
Malone sighed. “I know. We’ve all noticed.”
“I’ll give him a call and see what’s up today. This is the first time he’s actually failed to show up for a shift without getting in touch with me.”
“You can check on him as a friend, of course, but not as a supervisor.”
“Believe it or not, Captain, I’ve been suspended before, and I know how this works.”
They were nearly to the door when he stopped her with a hand to her arm. “I have to tell you, Lieutenant, that in your place, after what you went through with Stahl, I probably would’ve clocked Ramsey for what he said. But—”
Sam rolled her eyes. “How did I know there was a ‘but’ coming?”
“I want to see you rise through the ranks and be rewarded for your hard work and service to the department. I can almost guarantee that’s not going to happen if you get suspended again.”
Sam thought about that for a second before she replied. “I appreciate your candor, as always, but if I never go any further than lieutenant, I will have done a thousand times better than I ever expected after coming in here with dyslexia and my father’s legacy to live up to. It’s been a great career. I wouldn’t change a single thing, even the stuff that got me suspended, because the first time I got Nick out of it, and the second time I got to deck Ramsey and then listen to him squeal like a baby. Life is good, you know?”
Malone grunted out a laugh. “You’re too much, Holland.”
“I know. You guys tell me that all the time.”
“Be gone with you, and don’t let me see you around these parts until Wednesday.”
“Ahhh,” she said with a dramatic sigh, “bubble baths and bonbons for four whole days. Punish me please. Maybe Nick can punch the president and get himself suspended from the White House. I’ll have to ask him if he’s got any scores to settle, because this would be a great time to get it done.”
“You’re taking this surprisingly well, Lieutenant.”
“I almost died in that basement with Stahl. It takes a lot to rattle my cage after that.”
“Possible criminal charges are no laughing matter. You might want to talk to one of the union attorneys while you’re off, just in case.”
“I’ll think about that. Can you imagine the headlines? Vice President’s Wife Charged With Assault. Something tells me the White House communications people have never dealt with that particular headline.”
“Safe to say they’ve never dealt with the likes of you.”
“Aw, Captain, you flatter me. I’d better get out of here before someone hears I’m still here and I get in more trouble. Take care of my people for me.”
“I will.”
Sam pushed through the double doors and into cool, crisp winter air that smelled like snow. She’d had a conversation yesterday with her son, Scotty, about how air can smell like snow. Scotty said it wasn’t possible to smell snow, even after she got him to take a few deep breaths to see what she meant. He remained skeptical, but she had a few more weeks of winter to prove her point.
“Mrs. Cappuano.”
Sam turned toward the man who’d called to her. He was in his late twenties or early thirties, handsome with dark blond hair and brown eyes. The panic she saw in his expression put her immediately on alert. “That’s me, although they don’t call me that around here. And you are?”
“Josh Hamilton.”
Sam shook his outstretched hand. “What can I do for you, Josh?”
“I need your help.”
“Okay.”
“This... It’s going to sound sort of crazy, so bear with me.” He took a deep breath. “Today I was bored at work, so I started surfing the web, you know, just clicking around aimlessly.”
As a technophobe of the highest order, Sam didn’t know because she’d never done that and certainly not at work, where she was usually too busy to pee, let alone surf.
Josh took another deep breath, and Sam’s anxiety ramped up a notch. “I saw this story about a baby who was kidnapped thirty years ago. They had this age-progression photo showing what he’d look like now, and...” He gulped. “It was me.”
“Wait. What?”
With trembling hands, Josh retrieved his cell phone from his pocket and called up a web page, zeroing in on a digitally produced photo that did, in fact, bear a striking resemblance to him.
“Those photos are produced by computers. They’re not exact.”
“That’s me! And it explains why I’ve never felt at home or accepted in my family. What if they took me?”
“Hang on a minute. What evidence do you have to suspect that your parents participated in a criminal act to bring you into their family?”
He seemed to make an effort to calm down. “They’re extremely accomplished people and so are my siblings. My brother is a board-certified neurosurgeon. He went to Harvard for undergrad and medical school. My sister is an attorney, also Harvard educated, Law Review, the whole nine yards. And then there’s me. I barely made it out of state college after having spent most of my five years there on academic probation. After four years working for the federal government, I’m a GS-9 at Veterans Affairs, where I shuffle paper all day while counting the minutes until I can leave. The only reason I have that job is because my father, who has never approved of a thing I said or did, pulled strings to get me in. They’re all Republicans while I’m a liberal Democrat who fully supports your husband. I hope he runs in four years, by the way.”
“None of that proves your parents kidnapped you.”
“Will you take my case? Please? I need to know for sure. This would explain so much of why I’ve felt like a square peg in my own family my entire life.”
Sam held up a hand to stop him. “I’m a homicide cop, not a private investigator, but if you really believe a crime has been committed, I can refer you to someone within the department—”
“No.” He shook his head. “I want you. You’re the best. Everyone says so.”
“I’m honored you think so, but I’m on a leave of absence for the next few days, so I’m not able to take your case personally.”
“It has to be you. You’re the only one I’d trust to do it right.”
“The Metro PD has plenty of very qualified detectives who could look into this for you and help determine whether a crime has been committed, Mr. Hamilton.”
“You don’t understand. It can’t be any random detective. It can only be you.”
“Are you going to tell me why?”
He took another series of deep breaths, appearing to summon the courage he needed to tell her why. “It’s... He’s... Well, my dad, you see... He’s Troy Hamilton, the FBI director.”
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_03ba0836-3d05-5ad6-b762-6dd501f1f5e7)
HOLY BOMBSHELL, BATMAN! Sam’s mind raced with implications and scenarios and flat-out disbelief. “You can’t honestly believe that your father, one of the top law enforcement officials in the country, kidnapped a child thirty years ago.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Josh said.
“He’s one of the most respected men in our business. He’s revered.”
“Believe me, I know all about how revered he is. I hear about it on a regular basis.” He looked at her beseechingly. “You have to help me. I don’t know who else to turn to. Besides some of the people who work for my father, I don’t know any other cops, and you’re the best. And...I’m scared.” The last two words were said on a faint whisper.
Sam wanted nothing to do with the snake pit this case could turn out to be, but the detective in her was far too intrigued to walk away. “How’d you get here?”
“I took the Metro.”
She took a look around to see if anyone was watching, but the parking lot was deserted, and the usual band of reporters that stalked the MPD were taking the day off. They tended to do that when it was freezing. “Come with me.” She led him to the tricked-out black BMW her husband had recently given her and gestured for Josh to get in the passenger side.
Though she had no idea what she planned to do with him or the information he’d dropped in her lap, she couldn’t walk away from what he’d told her. “Tell me more about this website where you saw the photo.”
“It’s a blog run by parents of missing children.”
“How did you end up there?”
“I read a story about a baby who was kidnapped from a hospital in Tennessee the day after he was born and how his parents have never stopped looking for him. The thirtieth anniversary of the abduction is coming up, so they’ve gotten some regional publicity. There was a link in the story that led to the blog where the age-progression photo was.”
“So the photo hasn’t been picked up by the media?”
“Not that I could tell, but I was too freaked out by what I was seeing to dig deeper, especially since my thirtieth birthday is next week. I told my boss I had an emergency. I left the office and came right to you.”
“Why me?”
“Are you serious? After what you did at the inauguration, the whole country knows what an amazing cop you are. Who else would I go to with something like this?”
Sam winced at the reference to her crowd surfing stunt during the inaugural parade. She wished people would forget about that and move on, but the media attention on her and Nick had been even more relentless than usual since the inauguration and since their interview last week with one of the network morning shows. They’d hoped the interview would diffuse the interest, but that had backfired. Andrea, her White House communications director, had been inundated with hundreds of new interview requests for Sam, all of which she’d declined. The last thing she needed was more attention focused on her.
“You realize that accusing the FBI director of a capital felony is not something you do without stacks of proof that he was involved.”
“That’s where you come in. I need proof, and I need it fast before that picture gets picked up by the wires or social media and flung around the country. I need proof before he knows that I know.”
Sam had to agree that time was of the essence before this thing blew up into a shitstorm of epic proportions. With that in mind, she started the car, pulled out of the MPD parking lot and into weekday afternoon traffic that clogged the District on the way toward Capitol Hill.
“Where are we going?”
“My house.”
She glanced over at him and saw his eyes get big. “For real?”
“Yes, for real.” She paused before she continued. “Look, if you want me to dig into this, I have to do it at home. I’m serving out a suspension for punching another officer.”
“Whoa.”
“As you can imagine, I’d prefer that not be all over the news in light of who my husband is, and I’ve gotta stay below the radar on this or my bosses will be all over me.”
“No one will hear it from me.”
After a slow crawl across the District, Sam pulled up to the Secret Service checkpoint on Ninth Street. Normally they waved her through, but she had to stop to clear her guest. “They’ll need to see your ID.”
Josh pulled his license from his wallet and handed it to her.
She gave it to the agent, who took a close look before returning it to her. “Thank you, ma’am. Have a nice day.”
“You too.”
“What’s that like?” Josh asked. “Being surrounded by Secret Service all the time?”
“About as much fun as you’d expect it to be.”
“Why don’t you have a detail?”
“Because I don’t need one. I can take care of myself.” Thankfully, he didn’t mention the recent siege in Marissa Springer’s basement as an example of her inability to take care of herself. Sam liked to think that was a onetime lapse in judgment, never to be repeated.
Outside their home, her husband’s motorcade lined the street. What was he doing home so early?
She parked in her assigned spot—everyone who lived on Ninth Street now had assigned parking spaces—and headed up the ramp that led to their home.
“Why do you have a ramp?” Josh asked.
“My dad’s a quadriplegic. He lives down the street. My husband installed the ramp so he can visit.”
“Oh, that’s cool. Sorry about your dad, though.”
“Thanks.”
Nick’s lead agent, John Brantley Jr., met her at the door. “Lieutenant.”
“Brant. What’s he doing home so early?”
“The vice president isn’t feeling well.”
“Say what?”
He gave her a “you heard me” look that nearly made her laugh, except she was too concerned about Nick to laugh. Her invincible husband didn’t get sick the way other mortals did. In all the time they’d been together, she’d never known him to have so much as a cold.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“He didn’t say, and I didn’t ask.”
She used her thumb to point to her guest. “This is Josh—he’s with me.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She hated the way the agents insisted on calling her ma’am, as if she were seventy years old or something, but she’d chosen not to fight that battle. She wanted to say, if you can call me ma’am why can’t you call me Sam? Close enough, wasn’t it? But Nick had asked her not to make an issue of it, so she didn’t. But she wanted to.
“Have a seat.” She directed Josh to the sofa while she tossed her coat over the back of it. “I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.”
Sam dashed upstairs to their bedroom, anxious to see what was wrong with Nick, who’d been fine earlier. She found him in bed, curled into the fetal position, and was instantly concerned. Leaning over the bed, she pressed a kiss to his forehead, which was on fire. “Babe.”
“Mmm.”
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Don’t know. Was fine and then I wasn’t.”
“You’re burning up. Did you take something?”
“Couldn’t. Stomach.”
“I’m calling Harry.”
“No, I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine, and I’m calling Harry.”
He mumbled something that sounded like “don’t bother him,” but to hell with that. She was bothering him. Withdrawing her cell phone from her pocket, she found the number for one of their closest friends, who happened to be a doctor, and made the call.
“Madame Vice President,” Harry said. “To what do I owe the honor?”
“Nick is sick. Can you come over?”
“Sick with what?”
“I don’t know. He said it came on out of nowhere, and now he’s burning up and says his stomach hurts too bad to take anything.”
“Sounds like the flu. Keep your distance.”
“Way too late for that warning.” Sam winced when she thought of the sex they’d had last night and again this morning. Not getting too close to her husband was usually the last thing she wanted to do.
“Figures with you two,” Harry said with a huff of laughter. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Can you clear me through security?”
“Yeah, I’ll let them know.”
“Try not to worry. He’s an ox. He’ll be fine.”
Sam usually took Harry’s assurances to heart, but she was worried. She’d never seen Nick this way and had no idea what to do to make him feel better. She hated feeling powerless. Then she remembered Josh was downstairs waiting for her to figure out what to do about his suspicions.
So much for a nice, peaceful few days “off.”
Sam ran her fingers through Nick’s hair, which was sweaty from the fever. “Babe, I have to go downstairs and take care of something. I’ll be right back up, okay?”
He had gone back to sleep and didn’t respond.
Sam bent over to kiss his cheek, trying not to notice that he already felt hotter than he had a few minutes ago. She ran back downstairs to where Josh was waiting right where she’d left him. His leg bounced as he bit his nails.
“Sorry about that.”
“No problem.”
Their assistant, Shelby Faircloth, came into the room from the kitchen, carrying a cup of tea and holding her iPad under her arm.
“Hey, Sam, what’re you doing home? And why is Nick here?”
“He’s sick, and I’m off for four days,” she said with a meaningful glance.
“Ahh, gotcha.” Shelby knew Sam was due to hear the results of the IAB hearing today.
“Could I borrow your iPad for a minute?” Sam asked. “Oh, and this is Josh. I’m helping him out with something. Josh, Shelby, our assistant.”
“Nice to meet you, Josh.” Shelby punched in her code and handed the iPad to Sam. “What’s going on?”
Without telling Shelby about Josh’s connection to Director Hamilton, Sam told her about the photo Josh had found on the Internet.
“Oh my,” Shelby said, dropping into a chair.
Sam gave the iPad to Josh. “Show me the site where you found the photo.”
He did some typing and poking at the screen until he landed on the site. “Here.”
Sam took it from him and scanned the text that accompanied the photo. A newborn male by the name of Taylor Rollings had gone missing from a maternity ward in Franklin, Tennessee, located twenty miles outside of Nashville in Williamson County. According to the article, the baby’s kidnapping had been the lead story for weeks in the Williamson Herald and had been picked up by papers and TV news channels around the state.
His parents—Chauncey, a farmer, and Micki, a homemaker—were now in their sixties but had never given up hope of finding their missing son.
“He was taken right out of his bassinet while I was sleeping,” Micki said in the article, “and we’ve never seen him again.” The reporter noted that Micki still weeps when she speaks of the son who disappeared on a cold winter night three decades ago. “I’ll never stop looking for him. As long as I have a breath left in me, I’ll look for him.”
Touched by Micki’s sorrow, Sam skimmed the rest of the article, planning to read everything she could find on the case later. “If you really think you’re the missing son of this family, we could reach out to local law enforcement in Williamson County.”
“What would happen then?”
“They’d probably request DNA and run it against Mr. Rollings to see if it’s a match. That might be a good place to start.”
“But what if it doesn’t match? They’ve been through so much. I’d hate to get their hopes up.”
“That’s a very real concern and one you’ll need to weigh carefully if you’re determined to go through with this.”
“What would you do?”
Sam tried to put herself in his place. “I’d want to know, but that’s my nature. I always want to know everything. I guess that’s why I’m good at my job. I’m not satisfied until I know the truth.”
“I don’t know what to do. You saw what they said about Taylor’s mom, how she still cries when she talks about him thirty years later. What it if turns out not to be true, and I get their hopes up?”
“What if it turns out to be true? What if you’re their missing son? Think about the peace and comfort you could bring them.”
He dropped his head into his hands and sighed.
“May I ask a question?” Shelby said.
Josh raised his head to nod.
“What’s your gut telling you? I’m a big believer in trusting my gut.”
“Me too,” Sam said.
“There’s something to this,” Josh said. “I know there is. I don’t know if I’m this missing kid, Taylor, or not, but when I saw the picture? I felt like I’d been struck by lightning.”
“You should listen to that feeling,” Shelby said.
“I agree,” Sam said. “Maybe there’s a way we can test the DNA without getting the parents involved until we know there’s a match.” She flipped open her phone and scrolled through her contacts to find Dr. Lindsey McNamara’s number.
“Hey, Sam,” Lindsey said. “Heard you were off for a few days.”
“Is that how it’s being played?”
“Well, actually I heard you were suspended for punching Ramsey.”
“I still say he had it coming.”
“You won’t hear any argument from me. So what’s up?”
“I need an off-the-books favor. I have a friend who needs a DNA test done. Do you think you could come by my house and take care of that for him?”
“Um, sure. I’m leaving for lunch shortly. Could I do it then?”
“That’d be perfect. And if you could keep this between us, I’d appreciate it.”
“Of course. No problem.”
“I’ll clear you through security.”
“See you soon.”
“Hey, Brant,” Sam said when she ended the call with Lindsey. “Would you please let them know outside that Drs. Harry Flynn and Lindsey McNamara will be coming over shortly?”
“Sure, thing, Mrs. Cappuano. No problem.”
“Thanks.”
“Who was that you called?” Josh asked.
“The District’s Chief Medical Examiner, Dr. Lindsey McNamara. She’s a friend and a colleague. I trust her to be discreet.”
“I thought medical examiners worked on dead people.”
“Usually they do, but she’s also a medical doctor and handles DNA testing for us.” She glanced at the stairs. “I need to check on my husband. He’s not feeling well. I’ll be right back down.”
Sam went upstairs to the bedroom, where Nick was exactly where she’d left him. She placed her head on his face and was stunned by how hot he felt. Running back downstairs, she called Harry again and got his voicemail. “Harry, it’s Sam again. He’s scary hot. I’m worried. Let me know if you think I should take him to the ER.”
Sam’s phone rang, and she pounced on it, hoping it was Harry. “Mrs. Cappuano, this is Mrs. Perry at Eliot-Hine. The school nurse asked me to call to let you know Scotty’s not feeling well. He has a fever of one hundred point two. Is it okay if we send him home with his detail?”
Sam’s heart sank at the news that Scotty was sick too. While she’d rather pick him up herself, the agents could get him home faster. “Yes, please. Send him home.”
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_561b2b74-9e36-5045-aa41-0b798495c504)
SCOTTY NARROWLY MISSED throwing up on Sam when she met him on the sidewalk in front of the house. Fortunately, she saw what was happening and jumped out of the way in time for him to puke on the street rather than on her. She patted his back and took tissues from Darcy, one of his agents, to wipe his mouth when he was done.
“Sorry,” he muttered. His face was so pale he barely resembled her robustly healthy son.
“Don’t be sorry. You can’t help it, buddy. You okay for now?”
“I think so.”
Sam wrapped her arm around him to lead him inside. “How long have you felt lousy?”
“About an hour. I was fine and then my head was spinning and my ears were buzzing. Then my stomach started hurting, and I felt really hot.”
“Whatever it is, your dad has it too, and Harry’s on his way.”
Scotty closed his eyes and leaned his head against her. “Okay.”
“Oh my goodness,” Shelby said when Sam brought him inside.
“You need to get out of here while the getting is still good,” Sam said. “Whatever they’ve got is the last thing you need.”
“I can’t leave you to deal with this by yourself.”
“Yes, you can. Go, Tinker Bell. That’s an order.”
“If you’re sure,” Shelby said tearfully. Everything made her cry these days.
“I’m very sure this is no place for a pregnant woman.”
“All right, I’m going. I’ll check in after a while.”
In a low voice only Shelby could hear, Sam added, “Please don’t say anything to anyone, even Avery, about what Josh told you.” Sam wanted to say especially Avery, but she showed some restraint. The last thing she needed was Shelby’s FBI agent fiancé catching wind of possible accusations against his boss. Shelby hadn’t put Hamilton plus Hamilton together to get Troy Hamilton, but Avery was apt to.
“I won’t. I promise.”
“Um, should I go too?” Josh asked, eyeing Scotty warily.
“No, you stay. I’ll be back down as soon as I can.” With her arm still around Scotty’s shoulders, she guided him to the stairs. “Come on, pal. You gotta help me out here.”
“Sorry.” He climbed the stairs in slow steps. By the time they reached the top, he’d broken into a sweat.
Sam wrangled him into his room, helped him out of his coat and sweater. “Do you want to do the jeans?”
“You can,” he said in the smallest voice she’d ever heard from him.
That her thirteen-year-old wanted help with his pants said a lot about how sick he really was. A pang of fear struck her heart. Where the hell was Harry?
She got Scotty out of the jeans and into a pair of flannel pajama pants that had the Batman logo all over them. He was asleep before she finished dressing him.
Sam pulled the comforter up and over him, tucking him in. She’d no sooner gotten him settled when she heard retching noises from her own room. She ran for the hallway.
“Is he okay?” Darcy asked from her post outside Scotty’s door.
“I don’t know. Doc is on his way.”
Sam went in to help Nick, who’d fortunately made it to the bathroom. Wetting a washcloth, she bathed his face and cradled his head against her chest between bouts of vomiting.
“Scotty has it too.”
He moaned. “Haven’t felt this bad ever.”
“I’m scared for you guys.”
He wrapped an arm around her, thinking of her first as he always did, even when he felt like hell. “Don’t be. Just the flu or something.”
It was the “or something” that scared the crap out of her.
“What happened at the hearing?” he asked.
“Suspended for four days, but don’t worry about that now. It’s no biggie.”
“Yes, it is. You’re not upset?”
“Nah. This too shall pass. I’m not sorry I slugged him. He had it coming.”
“He certainly did.”
“You ready to go back to bed?”
“So ready.”
It took both of them to get him up off the bathroom floor and back into bed. Sam tucked him in and sat next to him, stroking his hair and thinking about what to do with Josh.
With Nick asleep again, she crept out of the room and placed a call to Freddie.
“Hey, did you talk to Gonzo?” he asked.
“Jesus, I totally forgot. You won’t believe what’s been going on since I left HQ earlier.” She brought him up to speed on the situation with Josh Hamilton.
“Holy cow,” he said softly. “Director Hamilton’s son is accusing him of being a kidnapper?”
“We don’t know anything yet, other than Josh Hamilton closely resembles the age-progression photo the family released to mark the thirtieth anniversary of the kidnapping, and his thirtieth birthday is coming up. That’s all we know. Lindsey is coming to take a swab, and I’ll ask the lab to rush it. I’m going to reach out to the Williamson County people to let them know we might have a lead for them. Once we have the DNA, we’ll send it to Williamson County to see if it’s a match to the missing baby’s parents.”
“What if it is?”
“One thing at a time.”
“What can I do?”
“It’s kind of a big thing, but I need someone on Josh until we know what we’re dealing with. I’m sure you have plans this weekend—”
“Actually, Elin is going wedding dress shopping with her friends for the weekend, so I’m on my own.”
“How do you feel about hunkering down in a hotel with him until we know more?”
“I’d much rather hunker down in a hotel with Elin, but since that’s not happening this weekend, I can do it.”
“Are you sure? I’m technically not allowed to ask you to do anything, and I’m not sure how the OT will work. I’ll clean it up later with Malone.”
“Don’t sweat it. It all comes out in the wash.”
“In case I forget to tell you, you’re the best.”
“Yeah, yeah, so you say until you get mad with me and I’m not the best anymore.”
“When was the last time I was mad with you?”
“Um, when I tuned up Elliott?” he asked of the man who’d assaulted his fiancée.
“That was a very specific instance of you doing something stupid.”
“Sort of like you punching Ramsey?”
“Just like,” she said with a laugh. “Touché.”
“Where’s Josh now?”
“My living room.”
“Seriously? You brought him home with you?”
“Where else was I supposed to take him? HQ is off limits to me at the moment, and I wanted him somewhere that no one could get to him. This place is like Fort Knox these days, so where better?”
“I’ll come get him.”
“Enter at your own risk. Nick and Scotty are down hard with something that could be the flu but more closely resembles the bubonic plague.”
“Ah, damn, that’s too bad.”
“Puts a damper on my plans for a restful break,” she said as she looked in on Scotty and then Nick. Both were sleeping peacefully—for the moment.
The doorbell rang, and Sam headed for the stairs, praying it was Harry. “I gotta go. I’ll see you when you get here.”
“I’ll be there within the hour.”
“Thanks again.”
“No problem.”
It was a huge problem and an even bigger imposition, but he wouldn’t say so, and that made him the best partner she’d ever had. He did whatever she asked of him, no matter how outrageous the request.
She reached the living room as Brant ushered Dr. Harry Flynn into the house. “Thank God you’re here. My boys are sick as dogs.”
The handsome, dark-haired doctor kissed her cheek. “Boys plural?”
“Scotty came home with the same thing Nick has. They’re both scary sick.”
“Dr. Harry’s on the job. Lead the way.”
“Be right back,” Sam said to Josh as she took Harry upstairs, first to Scotty, who hadn’t budged since she tucked him in.
Harry took his temperature with a thingie he swiped over the boy’s forehead. “One-oh-three. That’s one heck of a fever. Did he mention any symptoms other than the vomiting?”
“He could barely hold himself up, let alone talk.”
“And he was fine this morning?”
“They both were—and then they weren’t.”
“It’s going around. We’ve seen it in the office.”
Sam felt slightly better to hear her guys hadn’t been taken down by something random.
“It’s usually a miserable day or two before they start to rebound.” He finished examining Scotty. “Let me take a quick look at Nick.”
“Right this way.”
Nick woke up while Harry was taking his temperature. “What’re you doing in my bedroom?”
“I came to seduce your wife since you’re not capable at the moment.”
Nick groaned and attempted a smile. “Hands off. She’s all mine.”
“One-oh-two,” Harry said, reading from the LCD. “How did it come on and what’re your symptoms?”
“I was in a meeting and my head started to buzz and my stomach started to hurt and within five minutes, I felt like I was going to pass out. Fortunately, Melinda saw it happen and was all over it. She and Brant got me out of there before I could puke in the White House.”
“Did she have her hands on you?” Sam asked of the blonde bombshell agent she called Secret Service Barbie.
“Relax. I didn’t feel a thing other than the need to puke.”
“I love how she’s jealous even when you’re sick as hell,” Harry said with a laugh.
“That’s my girl,” Nick said, his eyes closing. “True blue.” His hand found hers, and he linked their fingers.
No matter what the circumstances, he always knew how to handle her, and Sam didn’t mind being handled as long as he was the one doing it.
“I don’t think either of them needs more than rest and fluids. Unfortunately, it’s got to run its course. If they get any worse, don’t hesitate to call 911 and get them to the hospital.”
“That’s it? That’s all we can do?”
“For now. I’ll be checking in with you, and we’ll keep tabs on how they’re doing. Try not to worry. I know it’s hard to see them so sick, but you should see a big improvement by tomorrow. The most important thing is keeping them hydrated. Push the fluids.”
“All right. If you’re sure.”
He kissed her forehead. “I’m a phone call away if you need me. I promise they’re going to be fine.”
For the first time since she’d seen Nick looking like death warmed over, Sam relaxed ever so slightly. She wouldn’t completely relax, however, until they were both back to normal.
After she and Harry checked once more on their sleeping patients, she walked him downstairs and gave him a hug at the door. “Thanks for coming.”
“Anytime. Don’t hesitate to call me if they get any worse, okay?”
“You’ll be the first to know.”
He passed Lindsey McNamara on the ramp, and they exchanged a few words before Brant admitted Lindsey.
“Is it safe to come in?” Lindsey asked.
“Enter at your own risk,” Sam said. “We’re down hard with the flu.”
“Yikes.”
“At least my suspension is well-timed. I’m needed here for the next few days.”
“Silver lining,” Lindsey said with a smile. She glanced at Josh, who sat on the sofa, his leg still bouncing nervously. “Are you going to tell me what this is about?”
“I can’t. Not yet anyway. But suffice to say it’s a matter of paternity, and if it turns out to be something, it’s gonna be huge.”
“Say no more.”
Sam introduced her to Josh, and Lindsey explained the process of obtaining a cheek swab to test his DNA.
“How long will it take to get results?” he asked.
“I’ll put a rush on it, but it could be four or five days.”
“How will you know if someone is a match to my DNA?”
Lindsey glanced at Sam before she replied. “The basic DNA fingerprint or profile that we use for law enforcement or human identity purposes is called the nuclear or autosomal STR profile. STR means short tandem repeat, which describes repeating segments of DNA code at particular locations on the human genome.”
Josh’s eyes glazed over as Lindsey explained the technicalities.
“We’ll be looking for a match to your biological father,” she said when she seemed to realize she’d lost him. “The Y chromosome is passed down from father to son. The Y-STR profile for a father and a son should exactly match, except in rare cases of mutation. So this wouldn’t work for identifying a daughter, because a girl wouldn’t have the Y chromosome. The lab will rely upon a combination of information from autosomal STRs and the Y-STRs to make a determination of father/son. You see?”
Judging by his baffled expression, he didn’t see. He didn’t see at all. But he said, “I think so. Thank you for explaining.”
“No problem.”
“Thanks so much for coming, Lindsey.” Sam walked her to the door. “Let me know the second you have anything.”
“You know I will. Even with a rush it’ll be a few days.” Lindsey glanced at Brant guarding the door and lowered her voice. “I don’t know what you’re up to here, Sam, but you need to be careful. I heard Forrester is seriously considering assault charges.”
“So I’ve been told. And don’t worry. I’m being careful. This isn’t an official MPD case. He asked me for a favor. That’s all it is.”
“You’ve involved me, which involves the department.”
“No one knows that but you and me.”
“Be careful.”
“I hear you.”
“I’ll get back to you as soon as I have anything.”
“Thanks again, Lindsey.”
Sam returned to the sofa and sat next to Josh. “So here’s what I’m thinking. I’m going to reach out to law enforcement in Williamson County as a professional courtesy. I’ll tell them what I know so far and that we’ve taken DNA. I’ll strongly suggest they refrain from contacting the family until we know for sure there’s a match. That way if you’re not a match, we haven’t raised their hopes for no reason.”
“What do I do in the meantime?”
“We’re going to put you in a hotel with police protection until we know what we’re dealing with.”
“Is that really necessary?”
“If I didn’t think it was, I’d never ask you to do it.” Sam chose her words wisely. “If this turns out to be true, you’re sitting on a powder keg because of who raised you. If he was complicit in this, it’ll be the biggest BFD in the history of BFDs. You got me?”
“Yeah.” Arms on knees, he dropped his head and sighed. When he looked up at her, she saw his anguish. “You don’t really think he’d harm me or anything, do you?”
“If you’d asked me this morning if Director Hamilton had possibly raised a child kidnapped from another family, I would’ve said no way. And I remain ninety-nine percent skeptical that’ll turn out to be true. But if the one percent pans out...I have no idea what’ll happen, and I want to ensure your safety.”
He ran his fingers through his hair repeatedly.
“The choice is definitely yours, Josh. If you don’t want to be under police protection, you don’t have to be. But if I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t take any chances, especially since it’s only a matter of time before that photo goes viral.”
“You really think that’ll happen?”
“People are always interested in missing kids.”
“I wish I hadn’t seen it.”
Sam leaned in to put her hand on his arm. “If it turns out to be true, will you still feel that way?”
“I don’t know how to feel about any of this. Before I saw that picture, it never occurred to me that something like this was even possible. Now... Well, now I’m wondering if my whole life has been a lie. Did they just pretend to care about me when they were lying to me the whole time?”
“You’ll know soon enough, and until then, I recommend you let us keep you safe.”
“You and who else?”
“My partner, Detective Freddie Cruz. I trust him implicitly. You’ll be in very good hands with him, and as soon as we have the DNA results, we’ll get you some answers.”
“Fine. Okay. I’ll go with your partner.”
“I think that’s the wisest choice, especially since this place is overrun with the flu.”
“And you’ll let me know what’s going on?”
“I’ll be in touch with you the second we have anything concrete. I promise.”
With his face set in a grim expression, he nodded, seeming pacified for now. Sam entered his phone number into her contacts and gave him her number in case he needed her for anything. Freddie arrived a short time later, and Sam introduced him to Josh.
Josh shook his hand. “Nice to meet you. I guess we’re going to be roommates for the next few days.”
“Looks that way,” Freddie said. “You like the Skins?”
“Of course I do. Born and raised right here in D.C.”
“It’s Cowboys weekend, so at least we have something fun to watch.”
“I’ll spring for the beer.” Sam handed her credit card to Freddie. “Put the room on that too.”
“Your personal card? Will they let me do that?”
“Have them call me if you need to.”
“I could use my department card.”
She shook her head. “I’m keeping this separate for the time being. I’ll work out the expense side of it later.”
“You’re the boss.”
“Not right now, I’m not. Check in with me later.”
“Will do.”
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_f9945dbb-c05b-5ed9-99cc-8d04afef5ca2)
AFTER THEY LEFT, Sam went upstairs to look in on Scotty and Nick. They were both sleeping soundly, so she went downstairs to get something to eat while she could. Shelby had left a big salad and a pot of meatballs on the stove, so Sam had some of both along with a glass of water when she’d much rather have had a diet cola.
While she ate, she picked over the details of the case Josh had dropped into her lap. Though she probably should’ve technically declined to help him in light of her suspension, there were no rules she knew of that dictated personal favors outside of work. And technically, it wasn’t even an actual case, so she wasn’t violating the terms of her suspension.
Calling Lindsey might’ve crossed the line, but Lindsey’s connections with the lab would ensure a speedier turnaround than they would’ve gotten from an outside doctor. With the possibility of Director Hamilton’s involvement or culpability, she needed to do things by the book. At some point, the chain of custody on the DNA might matter, and who would care then that Sam had technically been suspended when she requested the swab?
You’re justifying yourself, baby girl. Sam smiled at the sound of Skip Holland’s voice in her head. Thinking of him made her want to talk to him, so she called down the street to see what he was up to.
“Hi, honey,” her stepmother said. “How’re you?”
“We’ve been struck by the flu over here. First Nick, then Scotty.”
“Oh no, are they okay?”
“They’re asleep for the moment, but they’ve both thrown up.”
“Poor guys. I’ll make some soup for when they feel up to eating again.”
“I’m sure they’d appreciate that it came from you rather than me.”
Celia laughed. “Probably.”
“Is Dad up for a chat?”
“He sure is. Let me get him for you.”
“What happened at the hearing?” Skip asked.
“Hello to you too.”
“Spill it.”
Sam smiled at his sauciness. She expected nothing less from him. “Suspended for four days and a thousand-dollar donation to the widows and kids.”
“That ain’t bad, all things considered.”
“I guess. I hear Forrester is considering assault charges, but I’m not worrying about that until it happens.”
“You should worry. He’s got a valid case, and you know it.”
“Maybe so, but I’d do it again. And don’t tell me I’m better than him and should’ve risen above it. I heard you the other ninety times you’ve said that.”
“It’s true.”
“I’ve got bigger fish to fry with both my guys down with the flu.”
“Aw, crap, that’s too bad. Wish I could come help you take care of them.”
“You’re far better off over there away from the germ pit. I sent Shelby home to get her out of here.”
“Probably for the best in her condition.”
“So I caught an interesting new case today. Or a potential case.”
“How’s that possible when you’re suspended?”
Sam filled him in on Josh Hamilton’s story and his connection to Director Hamilton.
Skip’s low whistle came through the phone loud and clear. “Are you shitting me?”
“Would I shit you, Skippy?”
“Holy... Sam, you gotta be so careful here—you know that, right?”
“Yes, Dad, I know that.”
“What’s your plan?”
“First step was getting the DNA. Next I’m going to call Williamson County and give them a heads-up that we have a guy who closely resembles the composite. We’ll go from there.”
“God, those poor people. Thirty years wondering where their kid is.”
“I know. It’s unimaginable. You think it’s possible Director Hamilton could’ve been part of something like this?”
“Shit, I don’t know. I only know what I’ve read about him, but he has a good reputation in law enforcement circles, as you know.”
“Yeah, Avery thinks the world of him.”
“I can’t even begin to get my head around the implications of what this guy is saying.”
“Neither can I. But the picture... The resemblance is uncanny.”
“There’s a whole lot of speculation involved in the production of those age-progression photos. Just remember that.”
“I’m operating on the presumption that Josh Hamilton is not Taylor Rollings until I have proof otherwise.”
“Good plan, but you also need a plan for what you’re going to do if he is Taylor Rollings.”
“What would you do with that info?”
“I’d go directly to Farnsworth. Don’t pass Go, don’t collect two hundred dollars. Don’t do anything but go right to him.”
“Right. I agree. That’s what I’ll do.”
“This might be the craziest thing I’ve ever heard, and I’ve heard a lot of crazy shit in my life.”
“I know—me too. Well, I’d better go make that call to Tennessee.”
“Keep me posted, baby girl, and be careful not to get yourself into another pot of hot water with the department over this.”
“I do so love a good hot bath.”
“Sam.”
“Yes, sir. I hear you. I’ll be careful.”
“Let me know how Nick and Scotty are later.”
“You got it. See ya, Skippy.”
“Bye, baby.”
Before she made the phone call to Tennessee, Sam went upstairs to look in on Scotty, resting her hand on his forehead, which was still burning hot.
He opened his eyes. “Hey.”
“How’re you feeling, honey?”
His eyes went wide all of a sudden, and Sam wondered if he was going to be sick again. “What is it?”
“I, um, that’s what my mom—my first mom—used to call me.”
“Oh, sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“No, it’s fine.” He forced a weak smile. “I like it.”
Her heart had never actually ached with love the way it regularly did for this sweet boy. She returned his smile and brushed the hair back from his forehead. “You need anything?”
“Some water maybe.”
“I’ll be right back.” She went downstairs and brought two glasses of ice water back up. Leaving Nick’s on Scotty’s bedside table, she helped her son sit up and take some sips.
“Was Harry here, or did I dream that?”
“He was here, and he said that despite how bad you feel, you’re going to live.”
“That’s good.”
Sam kissed his feverish cheek. “That’s very good.”
“How’s Dad?”
“Out cold the last time I checked.”
“I hope he’s okay.”
“He’ll be fine, and so will you.”
His eyes went wide all of a sudden. “TJ’s party! It’s tomorrow night. I have to go! Everyone is going.”
Sam hated to disappoint him, especially after all the hoops they’d had to jump through with the Secret Service to make it possible for him to attend. “Let’s see what tomorrow brings before we decide anything. You wouldn’t want your friends to get sick if you go out too soon, would you?”
“No, but...” His chin quivered ever so slightly. “I really want to go.”
“I know. Maybe you’ll feel a thousand times better by tomorrow.”
“I hope so.”
“Me too. Now get some sleep, and call me if you need anything. I’ll be close by.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Sam leaned over to kiss his cheek again before tucking the comforter in around his shoulders.
“You’re a good mom,” he said so softly she almost missed it.
Her heart skipped a beat. “Really?”
“Mmm-hmm. The best.”
“You make it easy for me.”
His eyes were closed, but his lips curved into a smile.
Taking the other glass of water with her, Sam left his door propped open so she could hear him if he called for her. She went into her room where Nick was exactly where she’d left him—curled up on his left side sound asleep. Other than their honeymoon, when they’d done nothing but eat, drink, sleep and have sex, she’d rarely seen him asleep at this hour of the day. It was unsettling to see her unstoppable husband felled by anything, let alone something as pedestrian as the flu.
At times, she’d wondered if he had superpowers that he kept secret from her. How else to explain the way he managed to get so much done while also taking excellent care of her and Scotty? Sam kissed his cheek, and even though she knew she shouldn’t, she kissed his lips too.
“Mmm, not tonight, babe.”
Sam laughed out loud.
His eyes popped open.
“I think that’s the first time you’ve ever said no to me.”
Clearing his throat, he said, “I take it back. I never say no to you.”
“You’re allowed to today. How you doing?”
“Never better.”
“Now you’re lying to me?”
“Don’t want you to worry.”
“Too late for that.”
“How’s the boy?”
“Worried about TJ’s party.”
Nick winced. “Ahh, crap. That’s tomorrow, right?”
“Yep.”
“What are the odds that we’re going to be free of this plague by then?”
“Slim to none.”
“He’ll be so disappointed.”
“We’ll make it up to him—somehow.”
“I’ve got to go make a call, and then I’ll come back and tell you a story you won’t believe.”
“’K.” His eyes were already closed, his breathing heavier, his muscles relaxing as he drifted back to sleep.
Sam went into the bedroom they now used as an office, since the Secret Service had commandeered their downstairs study. She fired up Nick’s computer, then knocked a few of his rigidly organized files out of alignment, smiling at the thought of him discovering her handiwork when he felt better. She did a search for Williamson County law enforcement, clicking on the link to the Franklin, Tennessee police department.
The age-progression photo Josh had seen online and a paragraph about the photo being released on the thirtieth anniversary of Taylor’s kidnapping appeared on the department’s home page. The write-up ended with the phone number to call with information about the case.
Sam felt unusually nervous as she placed the call. Rarely did her work cause jitters, but everything about this situation was odd—from Josh happening upon the photo on a random website to the way he’d singled her out to investigate. And then there was his connection to Director Hamilton.
“Franklin Police.”
“I’d like to speak to the detective in charge of the Taylor Rollings case, please.”
“Who’s calling?”
“Lieutenant Holland, Metro PD in Washington, D.C.”
Dead silence.
“As in the vice president’s wife?”
“As in Lieutenant Holland, Metro PD.”
“Ah, I got it. So you don’t play the VP card, huh?”
This guy was lucky Sam wasn’t his boss, or his ass would be grass and she’d be the lawn mower. “Could I please speak to the detective?”
“You sure can. Just hang on one second. And may I say it was an honor to speak to you?”
Since her head was about to explode with aggravation, she decided it would be wise to remain silent. The phone clicked to hold music that was even more annoying than the MPD’s, and that was saying something.
“Detective Watson.”
“This is Lieutenant Holland, Metro PD in Washington, D.C. Are you the detective in charge of the Taylor Rollings case?”
“I am.”
“I may have something for you.”
After a long pause, he said, “Define something.”
“A possible match for the age-progression photo you circulated. I’ve had someone make contact who believes it’s possible he may be the person you’re looking for.”
“Can you send me a picture?”
“Not yet. We’ve taken a DNA swab and will have a report for you in the next few days. If there’s a match, we’ll proceed from there. You’ll understand that he’s not interested in raising the hopes of the Rollings family without definitive proof.”
“I do understand, and that’s the last thing I want either, believe me. I appreciate the call and the heads-up. Is there anything else you can tell me about him?”
“Just one thing—his thirtieth birthday is next week, so the timing lines up. But if the DNA doesn’t match, there’ll be no point in discussing it any further.”
“I’ll be waiting to hear from you.” He shared his email address and cell phone number. “If you’d give me a call when you send it, I’d appreciate it.”
“I’ll do that. Could I ask if there’ve been any other leads resulting from the photo?”
“Lots of calls, but nothing that’s panned out. We’re following up on everything the way we always do when this case gets new attention, usually around the anniversary of the abduction.” He sounded exhausted and frustrated, which gave him tons of credibility with Sam. Most detectives she knew spent a vast majority of their careers exhausted or frustrated, often both.
“How long have you been on the case?”
“Fifteen years. The original detective literally worked himself into an early grave looking for Taylor. His wife left him, his kids stopped speaking to him and he turned to the bottle for comfort.”
Sam felt for a guy she’d never met. Sometimes the job took everything you had to give and then asked for more. “And the parents...”
“Toughest people you’ll ever meet. True salt-of-the-earth types. I don’t know how they do it, but they never give up hope. They speak of Taylor in the present tense. Micki says that until she has proof to the contrary, she believes her son is alive.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, they amaze me and everyone else who knows them.”
“I need to warn you, if this guy turns out to be their son, it’ll be the lead story on every TV station and in every newspaper in the country for the foreseeable future.”
“Why? What the hell? Who is he?”
“It’s more about who his father is.”
“I’m not going to like this, am I?”
“None of us are.”
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_c16022ce-9abf-54e3-9443-5097d38c0e63)
SAM SPENT MOST of Friday night and early Saturday morning running between her puking son and her puking husband. She was about to fall over from exhaustion when she crawled into bed next to Nick after changing the sheets on Scotty’s bed for the second time.
She’d no sooner closed her eyes when her cell phone rang. That only happened at this hour when she was on call, so she was immediately concerned about her dad. “Hello.”
“Sam.”
She groaned loudly and then regretted it when Nick stirred. Rubbing his back to settle him, she said, “What do you want, Darren?”
“I heard you were suspended for assaulting a fellow officer, and Forrester is considering charges. I wanted to give you a chance to comment before I go with it.”
How in the hell had a reporter from the Washington Star caught wind of her suspension? That was supposed to be an internal department matter, thus the term internal affairs.
“Sam?”
“No comment, other than to say if you run that I’ve been suspended when I haven’t, that might be embarrassing for you.”
“So you haven’t been suspended?”
“I’ll neither confirm nor deny. Now leave me alone. I’m sleeping.” She slapped her phone closed and put it on the bedside table. If it weren’t for her father’s precarious health, she’d turn the thing off.
“What’s that about?” Nick muttered.
“There’s a very good possibility that the headline in the Star tomorrow will be ‘Second Lady Suspended After Assaulting Fellow Officer, U.S. Attorney Forrester Considering Charges.’”
“He had it coming.”
“And that, right there, is why I love you so much.”
“Why? What’d I say?”
“You still say he had it coming even though it could turn into a firestorm for your team.”
“They get paid to put out fires. What about your staff? Should you give them a heads-up?”
“Crap, you’re right. Lilia shouldn’t hear about it on the news. I keep forgetting I have a staff.” Another thought occurred to her. “Ah damn, I never checked on Gonzo today.”
“Today is now well into tomorrow, and you need some sleep. You can check on him later and call Lilia.”
“He blew off his shift yesterday. Never does that.”
Nick reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “He’s grieving. It’s going to take a while.”
“Worried about him.”
“I know, babe. Me too.”
* * *
TOMMY GONZALES COULDN’T SLEEP. He couldn’t eat. He couldn’t breathe without pain rippling through his chest in agonizing waves. He couldn’t play with his toddler son without breaking down in tears because his late partner would never experience the exquisite joy of fatherhood. He couldn’t bear the touch of his fiancée while knowing that Arnold would never drop to one knee and propose to the love of his life.
The only relief Gonzo got from the unrelenting pain was found in a bottle of whiskey. He and Jameson had become very close friends since the dreadful night in January when his partner had been gunned down.
If you shut the fuck up, I’ll let you take the lead.
Those words would haunt him for the rest of his life. Of course, if he hadn’t let Arnold take the lead that night, Gonzo would be dead. His son would be fatherless, and his fiancée bereft. The thought of those scenarios was only slightly less agonizing than the loss of Arnold had been. He didn’t like to think of Alex or Christina grieving him, but he’d almost rather be dead himself than have to live with the way his partner had died.
The gurgling sound of blood in Arnold’s throat gave Gonzo nightmares in the rare instances when he actually slept. In a career filled with things he’d much rather forget than remember, it was the single worst sound Gonzo had ever heard, the sound of life leaving his partner, one desperate gasp at a time.
He shuddered, thinking of it now and reached for the bottle that was never far from his grasp. The whiskey burned on the way down, his empty stomach protesting its arrival. Powering through the gut pain, he took another gulp, looking for the sweet oblivion he only found at the bottom of a bottle.
It was almost five now, and he had to work at seven. He’d missed his shift yesterday. That was a first. Under normal circumstances, he’d be freaking out about screwing up at work. Under these circumstances, he couldn’t find the wherewithal to give a shit about his fucking nightmare of a job. He could no longer remember what he’d ever loved about it.
In what other career could you be gunned down on a sidewalk simply because you carry a badge? In what other career did you risk your life every day for people who didn’t give a shit about you?
These days, cops were viewed as the enemy because of a few bad ones who couldn’t control themselves. Did anyone other than his family and friends and colleagues in blue even care that a young man named Arnold John “AJ” Arnold had been gunned down on a sidewalk simply because he’d approached a suspect on a cold, dark night?
Life had gone on for everyone else. Six weeks later, it was like it never happened for the rest of the world. Despite his best efforts to carry on, to be brave and strong for the people who were counting on him at home and at work, Gonzo could still hear the echo of the gunshots, smell the blood, taste the fear and panic of knowing there was nothing he could do. He could still hear that god-awful gurgling noise.
Gonzo had about twenty—or maybe it was thirty—unanswered calls from the department shrink, reminding him he needed to make his next appointment. Like the last time Gonzo had seen him, Trulo would make him talk about it when that was the last freaking thing he wanted to do. How in the hell would that help anything? Let’s tear the scab off the wound and poke a sharp stick in it because that’ll surely make everything better. So he was avoiding Trulo and all the other do-gooders who wanted to “help.” As if there was anything anyone could do.
“Tommy.” Christina’s soft voice jarred him. He hadn’t seen her coming. His reflexes weren’t what they used to be if she could sneak up on him in the dark.
“What?”
“Are you coming to bed?”
“No.” It wasn’t her fault. None of this was her fault. He told himself that a thousand times a day as she hovered over him, her care and concern wearing on his already-frazzled nerves. It was hard to believe that only a few short weeks ago, they’d been talking about making time to get married. And now he wanted to tell her to leave him alone. He wished everyone would just leave him the hell alone. But they didn’t. In addition to Christina, he had his family and colleagues around his neck too.
If Cruz called him one more time to “check in” he was going to tell him to fuck off. What did they want from him anyway?
“Will you please come to bed? You need to sleep.”
“No, I don’t need to sleep.” Sleep brought nightmares, and the last fucking thing he wanted was to relive it—again. “I need to be alone.” On the outer edges of his mind, in the place where the man he used to be lived, he knew he was making an extraordinary mess of the most precious relationship in his life. But he couldn’t bring himself to care.
Christina knelt on the floor in front of him, her hands flat against his thighs. There’d been a time, not that long ago, when that would’ve been enough to fire him up. Now he felt nothing for her or his son or his family or his friends. He felt absolutely nothing but pain.
“You’re scaring me, Tommy. You can’t go on this way. You need help. You have to let us help you.”
“I don’t have to do anything. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I can’t possibly know what you went through that night, but the Tommy I know and love—”
“Is dead. That guy died on a sidewalk right along with his partner. So if you don’t like the new and improved Tommy, maybe you should cut your losses and get out.”
Her face went slack with shock, tears flooding her eyes. “You don’t mean that.”
“Maybe I do.”
“Tommy...”
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be. We had a good thing, but it’s over now.”
“You... Alex...”
“Take him. Take him and just go. Leave me alone.”
“I’m not leaving you, Tommy,” she said as sobs shook her petite body.
Once upon a time, her tears would’ve moved him. “Then I’ll go.”
“No. You’re not going, and neither am I. We’re a family, and if you won’t fight for our family then I will.”
“Knock yourself out.” He reached for the bottle.
She grabbed it from his hand, and it went flying, smashing into the glass coffee table and shattering it.
The sight of her surrounded by shards of glass cleared the fog in his brain, making way for a moment of clarity. “Don’t move.”
As tears continued to rain down her face, she whimpered.
Standing, he reached for her and lifted her up and off the floor.
Christina wrapped her arms around his neck and curled her legs around his hips. She trembled violently, her tears wetting his face.
“You’re okay. I’ve got you.” His heart beat fast and hard as fear sliced through the numbness.
“Please don’t let me go, Tommy.” Her chest heaved from the strength of her sobs. “I’d never survive it.”
He tightened his hold on her, blinking rapidly to stop tears that suddenly couldn’t be contained. His chest ached as the dam broke, flooding him with a barrage of emotions he was unequipped to handle. Fear and grief and love and despair... All of it poured forth as Christina clung to him. He’d never cried like this before. Not when his grandparents died or when he found out he had a son he didn’t know about or when Arnold was killed right in front of him.
Something about the sight of Christina surrounded by broken glass had done what nothing else could. It had broken him. Leaning against a wall, he slid down, taking her with him, until they were on the floor. She never let go, holding him through the storm the way she had from the beginning.
He had no idea how long they were there before he found his voice. “I... I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things. I didn’t mean—”
Cradling his face in her hands, she kissed him and wiped away his tears. “We need help, Tommy. We can’t do this alone. Please. Before we lose us...”
He hesitated but only for a second. “Okay.”
* * *
SAM SHOT OUT of bed, going from asleep to running in the blink of an eye when she heard Scotty cry out. Fearing another vomit-astrophe, she steeled herself as she turned the corner in his room and found him sitting up in bed, weeping.
“Buddy, what’s wrong? Are you feeling sick again?”
She’d never seen him cry like this, as if his heart were breaking. Sam sat on the bed and wrapped her arms around him. The heat from his body radiated through the thin T-shirt he wore, but he didn’t feel quite as hot as he had during the night.
“I still feel awful,” he said between sobs. “I can’t go to the party.”
“I’m so sorry, and so is Dad. We know how disappointed you are.” And she knew that under normal circumstances, Scotty would never cry over such a thing. “But Dad said last night—and it’s true—there’ll be lots and lots of chances to have fun with your friends and lots of other parties.”
“I wanted to go to this one.”
“I know.” Desperate to find a way to comfort him, she settled him back on his pillow. “How about we have our own little party right here? We’ll watch whatever movie you want and play video games.”
His shoulders lifted ever so slightly.
She was no substitute for his friends, but she’d do whatever she could to fill the void. “You want to get up and try to eat something?”
He shook his head. “No, thanks. Not yet.”
“Let me know when you’re ready.” She tucked him in and kissed his forehead.
“Thanks,” he said, “for taking care of me and stuff.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
“Sure,” he said with the tiniest hint of a smile. “Cleaning up puke is a pleasure.”
“Being your mom is a pleasure. The good, the bad and the ugly. I love it all.”
“Something’s wrong with you if you like the ugly.”
“I hear that every day.” She left him with a smile and went back to her room, crawling in bed next to Nick, who hadn’t stirred. When she placed a hand on his back, the heat of his body alarmed her. She felt his forehead and launched out of bed to find the thermometer Harry had left for her. Running it over his forehead, she gasped when it registered at 104.5. Dear God!
“Nick.” She shook his shoulder. “Babe, wake up. You’ve got to take something for the fever.” Kissing his cheek, she said, “Nick, wake up.” He didn’t respond, even when she shook him vigorously.
Frantic, Sam grabbed her phone from the bedside table and called Harry. “Nick is at 104.5, and he won’t wake up,” she said the second Harry answered.
“Call 911. Right now. I’ll meet you at GW.”
“I can’t leave Scotty with only his detail!”
“Call Tracy to stay with him.”
“Okay. I’ll do that. Harry—”
“Make the call, Sam.”
Her hands shook as she called 911 and requested an ambulance. In the hallway, she said to Darcy, “I called rescue for Nick. He’s unresponsive.”
“Oh my God! I’ll let them know downstairs.”
After nearly dropping the phone in her haste, Sam found Tracy’s number and willed her sister to answer the phone. “Trace! I need you to come over here. Hurry. Nick and Scotty are sick, and I have to take Nick to GW—”
“What? Okay, I’m coming. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“You have to stay with Scotty.” Her voice broke and tears flooded her eyes. “I can’t wake him up, Trace. Nick. He won’t wake up.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Sam went to Nick and shook him again, looking for something, anything. “Please,” she whispered. “Wake up.”
But like before, he didn’t move.
She laid her hand on his chest where the strong beat of his heart was the best thing she’d ever felt. Then she noted the rise and fall of his breathing. Those were good signs, weren’t they?
It seemed to take hours for the paramedics to arrive when it was probably only minutes. Everything moved very quickly. They had him on an IV and strapped to a gurney in a matter of seconds and were whisking him out of the house, escorted by the Secret Service.
Sam was torn in two very distinct directions—go with Nick or stay with Scotty until Tracy arrived. She looked in on Scotty, who’d gone back to sleep. The fact that he was sleeping through this cemented her decision.
“My sister Tracy is coming to stay with him,” Sam said to Darcy. “If he wakes up before she gets here, tell him I took his dad to see Harry. Don’t say anything about ambulances or paramedics.”
“Of course. I hope the vice president is okay.”
“So do I.”
Sam ran out of the house without a coat and bolted down the ramp to the back of the ambulance. The sight of Nick, unmoving and strapped to a gurney, his face ghostly pale, made Sam stagger under the weight of her fear. Thankfully, Brant took hold of her arm and helped her into the ambulance before she tripped and fell.
“Why won’t he wake up?” she asked the paramedics when they were on their way to GW.
“We think he’s severely dehydrated. We’re pumping fluid into him, which ought to help.”
Dehydrated. She could work with that.
“But he’s going to be okay, right?”
“He should be.”
Sam clung to those three little words on the rapid trip to the hospital, where he was taken straight into an exam room. One of the nurses put an arm around Sam’s shoulders and guided her out of the room. “Let me find a place for you to wait where you won’t be bothered, Mrs. Cappuano.”
“I want to be with him.”
“Give us a chance to get him stable, and we’ll get you right in with him.”
“He’s not stable now?”
“We’re still assessing his condition. It’ll be a few minutes.”
Harry came rushing in, and Sam had never been so happy to see anyone in her life.
“They’re telling me I can’t stay with him.”
“I’ll get you in there as soon as I can.” He gave her a quick hug. “Go with Nancy. She’ll get you settled somewhere to wait.”
“Harry, please... Please.”
“He’s going to be fine. I promise.”
Those were, without any doubt, among the best words she’d ever heard. While Brant and another member of Nick’s detail stood watch outside the exam room, Sam let Nancy lead her to a private waiting room. She wanted to ask why the agents could stay but she couldn’t, but she already knew the answer to that.
“Is there someone you could call to come sit with you?” Nancy asked.
The only person Sam wanted was Nick. “I, um, I could call my sister.”
“Would you like me to do it for you?”
Angela would freak out if she got a call from a nurse at the GW Emergency Room. “Thank you, but I’ll do it.”
“Is there anything I can get you? Water, coffee?”
“A stiff drink?” Sam said with a small smile.
“Wish that was on the menu.”
“I’m fine, thank you. Please let me know the second you hear anything.”
“We will. I just want to say... All of us here, we think you and the vice president make for a beautiful couple, and we admire you both so much.”
Sam blinked rapidly, overcome with emotion. “Thank you. That’s very nice of you.”
“He’s young and strong and healthy. Have faith in all those things.”
Sam nodded because she didn’t trust herself to speak.
Nancy left her alone, and Sam took a moment to get herself together before she called Ang.
“Hey, what’s up? I was going to call you later.”
“Ang.”
“What? What’s wrong?”
“Can you come to the GW ER? Please? Nick is here, and he’s really sick. I don’t know what’s wrong with him—”
“I’ll be there. Hang tight.”
“Thank you.” Thank God for her sisters, Sam thought. They always came running when she needed them. Her phone dinged with a text from Tracy saying she was at Sam’s house, and Scotty was still sleeping.
Let me know when you hear anything about Nick.
I will. Harry is with him now.
He’s in very good hands.
Sam tried to take comfort in that, in knowing Harry cared about him as much as anyone did, anyone other than her, that is. No one cared more about Nick than she did. She couldn’t sit still. She paced from one end of the small room to the other, worried about Nick, worried about Scotty waking up to Tracy rather than her. If anything happened to Nick...
That thought had her dropping into a chair because her legs were too wobbly to support her. If this was what he went through every time she walked out the door to go to work or got herself into a jam on the job, it was a wonder he could function.
Her phone rang and she took a call from Nick’s dad. “Hi, Leo.”
“Hey, Sam, I tried to reach Nick, but his phone goes right to voicemail. I know how busy he is, so I figured I’d call you about coming up for dinner this weekend.”
“Oh, um, he’s sick, Leo. He’s got the flu. In fact, I’m at the GW ER with him right now. They think he’s severely dehydrated.”
“Oh no! I just talked to him yesterday.”
“It came on him and Scotty out of nowhere.”
“Should I come down?”
“I don’t think you need to,” she said with more confidence than she felt. “They said he’s going to be fine, and I can keep you posted. No sense exposing you or Stacy and the kids to what they’ve got.”
“If you’re sure...”
“I’ll tell him you called, and I’ll text you.”
“Tell him...” Leo hesitated, but only for a second. “Tell him I love him.”
“I’ll do that.” She wiped tears from her eyes. Under normal circumstances, tears pissed her off. Today she couldn’t care less about them.
Angela arrived twenty minutes after Sam called her. Wearing yoga pants and a sweatshirt without a coat, she rushed into Sam’s outstretched arms.
“Thank you so much for coming.”
“How is he?”
“I haven’t heard anything since I talked to you. I’m losing my mind.”
“So what happened?”
Sam relayed the story of how Nick and Scotty had come home sick the day before, and while Scotty seemed a tad bit better after a rough night, Nick was worse. “I couldn’t get him to wake up, Ang. I’ve never been so scared in my life.” Even when she’d been at Stahl’s mercy in that basement, she hadn’t been nearly as frightened as when she couldn’t rouse Nick. Being scared for herself was a whole lot different than being scared for him.
CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_e39b4537-6c73-58ee-bf8f-b26ece1f163a)
TIME SLOWED TO a crawl. Sam experienced every minute as if it were an hour. Her heart ached with worry and fear and the agony of being separated from him when he needed her. If the roles had been reversed, he’d be raging at anyone who tried to keep him away from her. She headed to the door to start raging, and nearly ran into Harry.
“How is he?”
“He’s conscious but badly dehydrated and a little confused due to the dehydration. We’re pumping him full of fluid, and he should be much better in a couple of hours.”
The flood of relief was so profound that Sam ended up in Harry’s arms sobbing.
He held her until she got it all out.
“Sorry,” she said, embarrassed by her meltdown.
“Don’t be. I was pretty freaked out myself when you said he was unresponsive.”
“Glad it wasn’t just me.”
“It definitely wasn’t just you. You want to see him?”
“Yeah.” The understatement of a lifetime.
“Come on.” He gestured for Angela to join them as they walked through the ER to Nick’s room, where Brant and one of the other agents, whose name escaped her at the moment, were standing watch.
“Good to hear he’s doing better,” Brant said.
Sam nodded in agreement. In the room, a nurse typed on a computer. Nick was asleep, and when she looked extra close, she saw a tad bit more color in his cheeks than he’d had earlier.
Her cell phone rang, but she ignored it to go to him, to run her hand over his face, to brush the hair back from his forehead so she could kiss him there. “How’s his fever?” she asked the nurse.
“It was down to 102.5 the last time we checked it. He’s getting something for that in the IV.”
“Good, that’s really good.”
“He’ll be fine,” the nurse said. “It’s just going to take a day or two.”
Sam’s phone rang again, and since Nick was sound asleep, she looked at the caller ID. Terry O’Connor. She took the call from Nick’s chief of staff. “Hi, Terry.”
“What’s going on? I heard from the Secret Service that he’s in the hospital.”
Sam filled him in on what’d happened.
“Jesus. I was with him when it came on yesterday. Never seen anyone go down that hard or that fast. Scared the shit out of me and everyone else around here.”
“Scared me too. I’ve never seen him with a cold, let alone something like this.”
“The press is going crazy wanting to know what’s wrong with him. What would you like me to tell them?”
“Do we have to say anything?”
“I’d recommend we give them a little something to stop the feeding frenzy. I saw one comment online that people are speculating he was poisoned.”
Sam’s stomach dropped. “For real?”
“Afraid so.”
“Hang on a second.”
To Harry, she said, “Terry wants to say something to the press about what’s going on. How would you describe it?”
“A nasty bout of the flu.”
Sam relayed the information to Terry and gave him the green light to tell the press the vice president had been hospitalized due to the flu.
“Got it,” Terry said. “I’ll take care of it. What else can I do? Anything for you or Scotty?”
“Scotty has it too, and my sister Tracy is with him. I think we’re set, but I’ll let you know later how he is.”
“Please do. Tell him we’re thinking of him.”
“I will.”
“I suppose I probably ought to clear his schedule for the next few days.”
“Make it the next week.”
“Okay, will do.” He paused and then said, “Before I let you go, I should mention I talked to Christina, and she said Tommy isn’t doing well at all. I thought you might like to know.”
Sam closed her eyes and took a deep breath, ashamed to realize she’d forgotten all about Gonzo and getting in touch with him in the madness of the last twenty-four hours. “You’re right. I do want to know. I’ll reach out to him later today.”
“Sounds good. Take care, Sam, and let me know how Nick is.”
“I will.” She stashed the phone in her pocket and took hold of Nick’s overly warm hand, bending her head over his chest when the tears started up again.
Angela squeezed her shoulders.
“You don’t have to stay, Ang,” Sam said. “You must’ve had other plans today.”
“I don’t mind staying. Spence is with the kids, and they’ll make him appreciate and worship me, so it’s all good.”
Sam wouldn’t have thought she could laugh right then, but Angela proved her wrong. Then she was crying again, her head propped on Nick’s hand. Her cell phone rang, and Angela took it from her to answer it. Sam heard her sister talking, but couldn’t bother to care who she was talking to.
“Hey, Sam, Freddie really needs to talk to you. I told him where we are and what’s going on. He said it’s urgent.”
Sam took a deep breath, wiped away her tears and stood to take the phone from her sister. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Angela told me about Nick. I hope he’s okay.”
“He will be. What’s going on?”
“Director Hamilton is calling Josh every fifteen minutes like clockwork.”
“Since when?”
“Early this morning. Josh says he’s called him more today than in the last five years combined.”
“Shit, he’s probably tracking the phone by now so he knows where Josh is.” Sam’s brain was so muddled with worries about Nick that it was hard to think about anything else. “Get him out of there right away. Move to another hotel outside the city and have him power down the phone. Tell him to let work know he’s got an emergency to contend with and won’t be in this week. Don’t let him make any contact with the outside world until we say otherwise.”
“What do I do with him when I have to go to work?”
“Leave him locked in the room and tell him he has to stay off the radar until we know what’s going on. The fact that his father is looking for him has me thinking he knows about the photo. If they had anything to do with taking him, that photo will send them into a panic. If they panic, they may do something stupid that might involve him getting killed. You see where I’m going with this?”
“Yeah, I do, and I don’t like it, Sam. This has the potential to blow up like a nuclear bomb in our faces, and frankly, after recent events, neither of us can afford that.”
He was right. She knew he was right, but what was she supposed to do? As if she’d conjured him, she heard her father’s voice in her head. Go to Farnsworth. Go directly to Farnsworth.
Sam blew out a deep breath. “Listen, if you don’t want to be involved, I understand. Let me know where you stash him, and I’ll take it from there.”
“I didn’t say I don’t want to be involved. I merely mentioned the potential for nuclear-level fallout.”
“I’ll take it to Farnsworth and turn it over to the department.”
“Um, before you do that, you should know that Josh told me last night that if anyone but you—and me by extension of you—is involved, he’s going to disappear. He seems really agitated since his father started calling. So you might want to hold off on involving the department.”
“Rock, meet hard place.” Sam glanced at Nick, who was still sleeping. She rarely found herself at a loss for what to do in any given situation, but this was a tough one. She was torn between what she should do to look out for herself—and now her partner too—and what was best for Josh. “What do we do?”
“My better judgment is saying go to Farnsworth, but if Josh bolts, this could get really complicated, especially when it comes out that we had him in custody.”
“Shit, fuck, damn, hell.”
“What you said.”
Sam was well aware that Freddie would take his lead from her, even if it meant venturing into murky gray area. “Get him settled somewhere else and then punch out of this situation. I’ll take it from here.” As she said the words, she didn’t have a plan beyond getting through the next hour with Nick. She’d figure something out for Josh. She always did.
“I don’t want to punch out. I’m in it for better or worse at this point. I’ll do some digging and see if I can get anything useful from him.”
“I can’t protect you if this goes nuclear.”
“I don’t expect you to.”
“If you’re going to dig, dig carefully.”
“Don’t worry. I will. I’ll let you know if I get anything, and I’ll shoot you a text about where Josh is. Keep me posted about how Nick is doing?”
“Yeah, I will, and thanks.”
“No problem.”
Though he said it was no problem, this situation could turn into a huge problem for both of them unless they managed it carefully. But what was she supposed to do at this juncture? Go to her brass with the possibility that FBI Director Hamilton’s son could or could not be a child kidnapped from a family in Tennessee thirty years ago? She was already on thin ice with the department. If she opened that can of worms only to find out it wasn’t true, what then? And if Josh found out she’d taken his claims to the department, he’d bolt.
“What the hell is going on?” Angela asked when Sam had stashed the phone in her back pocket.
“A really weird new case.”
“I thought you were suspended.”
“Heard about that, huh?”
“Everyone knows. It was in the paper this morning.”
“Ugh, goddamned Darren.”
“It wasn’t just him. It was all over the place—in the papers, on TV, talk radio.”
“Great.” Her phone rang and she removed it from her pocket to check the caller ID. Her White House chief of staff, Lilia Van Nostrand’s name showed on the screen. Since Nick was still asleep, Sam took the call. “Hi, Lilia.”
“I just heard about the vice president. Is he all right? Are you?”
“He’s been felled by a nasty bout of the flu. I’m told he’s going to be fine. My nerves are shot, but otherwise, I’m okay.”
“Oh, thank goodness! I couldn’t believe what they were saying on the news about him being transported by ambulance to GW.”
“Jeez, nothing gets by the Washington press corps, huh?”
“No, and that’s the other reason for my call.”
“I heard my name is above the fold today.”
“It is, and I’m wondering how you wish to handle it.”
“Why do I have to handle it?”
“We’re getting slammed with requests for statements, as is the vice president’s office.”
“I spoke to Terry a few minutes ago, and he didn’t mention it.”
“Probably because he’s concerned for the vice president’s health at the moment, as am I. We wouldn’t want you to think our priorities lie anywhere other than with both of you.”
“I understand, and I appreciate the fact that you’re being slammed. You could say that the second lady has no comment on the suspension, which is an internal MPD matter.”
“How about the fact that U.S. Attorney Forrester is considering assault charges?”
“You can get a statement from him about that. If or when it happens, I’ll have no choice but to deal with it. Until that time, it’s speculation, and I don’t comment on speculation.”
“Can we say that in the statement?”
“Sure, knock yourselves out.”
“I’ll have Andrea put something together for you,” Lilia said of Sam’s communications director. “We’ll run it by you before we release it.”
“No need. I trust you guys to handle it.”
“We’ll take care of it, then. If you have a chance later, let me know how the vice president is doing—and how you’re doing.”
“I will. Thank you, Lilia.”
“Anytime.”
“I still can’t believe you have a chief of staff at the White House,” Angela said as Harry returned to the room to check on Nick.
“Can you imagine being her chief of staff?” Harry asked. “I need to meet this saint of a woman.”
“Bite me,” Sam said, though she was relieved he was making jokes. That must mean Nick’s situation wasn’t as dire as it had seemed for a while there.
“Who’s she biting now?” Nick muttered.
CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_438fd514-802c-53c7-bc88-b76704ce8725)
SAM HAD NEVER been so relieved to hear him speak. She sat on the edge of the bed and ran her hand over his face. “Only you, babe.”
“Better be only me.” His eyes opened slowly, and his brows knitted as he took in the room. “What the hell?”
She glanced at Harry before she filled Nick in on where he was and why. “You wouldn’t wake up. Scared the living hell out of me.”
“And me,” Harry said. “I was afraid she’d sue me for saying you’d be fine in a couple of days.”
“Andy has agreed to take my case pro bono,” Sam said, smiling at Nick.
“That traitor,” Harry said of his and Nick’s mutual friend.
“Scotty,” Nick said in a low rumble.
“Is home with Tracy and doing better than you are.”
“That’s a relief. When can I get out of here?”
“Probably tomorrow or the next day,” Harry said.
“Aw, come on,” Nick said, groaning. “I feel a lot better. Let me go home.”
“Dude, you were out cold an hour ago,” Harry said. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Sam pointed a thumb at Harry. “What he said.”
As if it was too much effort to keep them open, Nick closed his eyes. “Thought you guys were my friends.”
Sam leaned forward to kiss him. “We’re your best friends.”
“You might want to cut out the kissing unless you want what he’s got,” Harry said.
“Too late to worry about that.”
Nick’s arms came around her, keeping her right where she wanted to be—close to him.
“They’re hopeless,” Harry said to Angela.
“They certainly are. We’ll remind her of this when she’s barfing her guts out in a couple of days.”
“Worth it,” Sam said.
Nick tightened his hold on her and for the first time since he wouldn’t wake up earlier, she was able to take a deep breath. He was okay, and that was all that mattered.
* * *
HOURS LATER, NICK ordered Sam and Angela to go get something to eat. They’d talked to Scotty by FaceTime on Angela’s phone so he could see that Nick was doing better and they could see that he was fine. Tracy had gotten him to eat some of the soup Celia sent over, and he’d even asked for ice cream.
Nick, on the other hand, wasn’t interested in food of any kind yet. “You guys go grab something. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Are you sure?” Sam messed with his blankets until she was happy with the way they covered him. They’d fielded another call from his dad, as well as Graham and Laine O’Connor. Nick’s adopted parents were also concerned about him.
He put his hand over hers. “I’m sure.”
“Come on,” Angela said, tugging Sam’s arm. “I’m starving.”
She’d kept them entertained with the increasingly desperate texts she’d received from Spencer as the day progressed. The kids were making a man out of him, or so Angela said.
They went to the cafeteria where Sam forced herself to choke down a turkey club even though she didn’t really want it. Angela said she’d be no good to anyone if she didn’t take care of herself. In deference to the day from hell, Sam indulged in a rare diet cola. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
“Best thing I ever tasted,” she said of the icy-cold soda.
“So I was going to call you today about something else.”
“What’s up?”
Angela dipped a French fry into ketchup and popped it into her mouth. “Mom’s in town and she wants to see you.”
Sam shook her head from the word town on. “Not now.”
“I think you need to see her. She has some news you should hear from her.”
“What kind of news?”
Angela shook her head. “It’s not mine to tell.”
“Seriously?”
“You know I would if I could.”
Sam blew out a deep breath. “This is just what I need right now with all the other crap I’ve got going on.”
“What was that thing with Freddie earlier?”
“Something for work that fell into my lap after I was suspended.”
“Is it something that’s going to get you into deeper shit than you’re already in?”
“Perhaps, but it could be such a huge big deal that no one will care about my role in it.”
“I know you’ve got a lot going on, but you need to see her. I wouldn’t ask you to if it wasn’t important.”
“Does Tracy know about this too?”
“Yes.”
“Great, so everyone knows but me.”
“That’s the way you wanted it when you cut Mom out of your life, Sam. We chose not to go that far. What do you want me to say?”
Her mother had left Skip for another man the day after Sam, their youngest child, graduated from high school. Sam had sided with her dad, and she’d do the same thing again if she had it to do over. Lately, however, especially after what’d happened with Stahl, she’d been thinking it might be time for a ceasefire with her mother. She’d yet to follow through on those thoughts, but Angela had presented her with a golden opportunity.
“How long is she in town?”
“The rest of the week.”
“Set something up for a couple of days from now. Let me get my guys out of the woods first.”
“I’ll take care of it and let you know.”
During fifteen years on the job, Sam had had her share of scrapes and close calls, but nothing like what her ex-colleague had put her through in the basement of Marissa Springer’s home. The incident had served as a wake-up call that life is short and grudges are pointless.
Though she’d probably never again be close to her mother, it was time to put down her sword and allow her mother back into her life. Having Scotty’s adoption finalized was another good reason to bridge the chasm with her mother. He had asked a few times about her mom, and his curiosity had cemented her resolve to make a move—eventually. She hadn’t expected to make that move today.
Nick was sleeping when they returned to his room, so Angela offered to stay with him while Sam took Angela’s car home to check on Scotty.
“He fell asleep about twenty minutes ago,” Tracy whispered when Sam came in to find Scotty sleeping next to Tracy on the sofa. Tracy ran her fingers through Scotty’s hair as he slept, and the sight of her sister tending to her son made Sam weepy again. Enough with the waterworks today!
Sam rested a hand on his forehead, which was cool. “Thank you so much for staying with him.”
“He’s a pleasure to be with, and he was so glad when you guys called earlier and he could see for himself that Nick is fine. That helped to take some of the sting out of missing his friend’s party.”
Sam bent over to kiss Scotty’s cheek. “What a long, crazy day.”
“Nick’s doing better?”
Sam sat in one of the upholstered chairs. “Yeah, he’s pissed that Harry is making him stay the night. I hope they let him out tomorrow, or he’ll be beside himself.”
“Now you know what we deal with anytime you’re injured.”
Sam stuck her tongue out at her sister. “So, Ang told me something’s up with Mom.”
“I wondered if she would mention that.”
“Is it bad?”
“It’s not good news, but it could be worse. She really wants to see you, Sam.”
“I know. Ang is going to set it up.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, it’s time.”
“I’m so glad to hear you say that.”
“Do you want to go home? I can take over from here.”
“I figured you’d want to be with Nick at the hospital. I had Mike bring me a bag so I could stay with Scotty.”
“I’m not sure where I belong right now. I’ve never felt so divided.”
“Welcome to motherhood,” Tracy said, smiling. “Scotty is fine with me, and you want to be with Nick, so go. We’ve got it covered here.”
“You must’ve had plans for this weekend.”
“Nothing that couldn’t be shifted around.”
“Thank you. You and Angela are the best. Always there when I need you.”
“Right back at you. I’ll never be able to pay you back for everything you did for Brooke last year.”
“I was just doing my job.”
“You did way more than your job, and we both know it.”
“All that matters is that she’s doing great and finishing up her senior year and going to college.”
“UVA of all places,” Tracy said. “I’m so proud of her.”
“We all are. I’m going to grab a quick shower and change before I head back to the hospital. But first, let’s get my big boy up to bed.”
They woke Scotty, who brightened at the sight of Sam. “How’s Dad?”
“He’s cranky about being in the hospital.”
“That’s good. That means he’s fine.”
“I’m going to tuck you in and head back to be with him. Tracy will spend the night, okay?”
“Sure, you should be with him.”
“I should be with both of you.”
“Until we clone you, that’s not possible.”
“Dear God,” Tracy said, shuddering dramatically, “do not clone her. One of her is more than enough.”
“No kidding,” Scotty said.
“Hey, I’m in the room,” Sam said, while hiding her pleasure at her son’s teasing. She much preferred that to the tears of the night before.
He was still weak and droopy, so they helped him into pajamas and got him tucked into bed.
“I’ll see you in the morning, buddy.”
“Will Dad get to come home tomorrow?”
“I fear for Harry’s safety if he doesn’t spring him.”
“I hope he gets to come home.”
Sam leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Me too. Get some sleep and don’t worry about anything. He’s fine.”
His eyes closed. “It’s hard.”
“What is?”
“When you care more about someone else than you do about yourself. It’s hard when something happens to them.”
Sam had to swallow the huge lump in her throat before she could reply. “Yes, it is.” She kissed him again and left him to sleep. After a quick shower and a change into yoga pants and a sweatshirt, she was on her way back to GW to spend the night with Nick.
She sent Angela home to Spencer, who had gotten both kids into bed and raised the white flag on the day. He’d sent a hilarious selfie with a six-pack of beer sitting next to him on the sofa.
“He’s getting so lucky tonight,” Angela said after sharing his comical texts with Sam.
“He got lucky the day you said yes to him.”
“Remember that night when I went to meet him? The night you met Nick for the first time?”
“I remember that night like it was yesterday.”
“Funny how that was such an important night for both of us. I think all the time about how Spence might’ve gotten away while I was busy mourning my relationship with Johnny the douche bag. And you having to put up with all that crap with Peter to get to what you have now with Nick...”
“I don’t like to even think about him.”
“He’s been quiet lately.”
“Ever since his ‘suicide’ attempt you mean?” Sam made air quotes around the word suicide.
“He must’ve been so disappointed when you didn’t come running.”
“Whatever. Those days are long over.”
“Better be,” Nick said.
“He is such an eavesdropper,” Angela said, laughing.
Sam gave her a hug and sent her on her way. “You really are a terrible eavesdropper,” Sam said to Nick when they were alone.
“Come here.”
“I’m here.”
“All the way.” Without opening his eyes, he held out his arms to her, and she crawled into bed with him.
“There. Much better.”
“You do seem much better.”
“I’m outta here in the morning. I don’t care what Harry says.”
“You’ll do what you’re told, which is what you always say to me when I’m in this place.”
“Hate when my own words come back to haunt me. How’s Scotty?”
“Feeling much better and worried about you. He said it’s hard when you care about someone else more than you care about yourself.”
“Did he now.” Nick sighed. “Wow.”
“I knew that would get to you.”
“Right here.” He rubbed his chest. “Now, how about you fill me in on what happened yesterday? It was only yesterday, right?”
“Yeah, it was. Feels like a lifetime ago, though.” She told him about the results of the IAB hearing, Josh Hamilton and what he’d uncovered on the Internet.
“So he just happened to see an age-progression photo that was of him? What’re the odds of that?”
“Astronomical.”
“Imagine seeing one of those photos, and it’s you. Jesus.”
“You haven’t even heard the real kicker yet. Guess who his father is?”
“Who?”
“Troy Hamilton.”
“As in the FBI director Troy Hamilton?”
“One and the same.”
“Holy shit. Sam, seriously... Are you kidding me right now?”
“Would I do that?”
“What’s your plan?”
“To keep him alive while we wait for DNA proof that he’s Taylor Rollings.”
“So you think he is?”
“I think he could be. The resemblance to the photo is uncanny. It’s like someone drew a picture of him and posted it. His thirtieth birthday is next week, so the timing works. And according to Freddie, who I’ve got babysitting him, his father has been calling every fifteen minutes, which is more than he’s called his son in the last five years.”
“So Hamilton knows about the photo—and he knows that Josh knows.”
“Yeah, that’s the theory. How well do you know Hamilton?”
“Not very well. From what I’ve seen at hearings on the Hill and in a few meetings at the White House, he’s a cool customer with an ego the size of Texas.”
“It’s well earned. He’s a legend in law enforcement circles.”
“And in his own mind.”
“So you don’t like him.”
“I don’t know him well enough not to like him, but something about him is off-putting. Can’t put my finger on it.”
“You think he’d be capable of kidnapping someone’s child and taking him home to raise as his own?”
“Hell if I know. I can’t imagine how anyone would be capable of such a thing. Those poor people. They’ve been through hell for thirty years. It sure would be something if you could give them some peace.”
“If Josh turns out to be Taylor, I fear that peace will be the least of what I’m giving them, and the frustrating part is that there’s not a damned thing we can do from an investigative perspective until the DNA comes back.”
“You could look into where Hamilton and his wife were the day Taylor went missing.”
“How can I do that without bringing down the wrath of Hamilton on me and the department?”
“Carefully.”
Sam could hear how tired he was in the way he said that one word. “You need to sleep now. We’ll talk more about this tomorrow.”
He didn’t protest, which was unlike him, especially since he had such a complicated relationship with sleep. His insomnia had been awful since he became vice president, which was one of many challenges they’d faced after he accepted the president’s offer to replace the ailing Joe Gooding.
“Thanks for waking up earlier,” she whispered.
His hand moved in small circles on her back. “Sorry I scared you.”
“You really did. Sorry for all the times I’ve scared you.”
“Love you, baby.”
“Love you too. So much.” If anything ever happened to him... No, she couldn’t think about that or she’d go mad. There were two agents stationed right outside the door to ensure that nothing happened to him. But they hadn’t been able to prevent severe dehydration. Her stomach ached from the fear of the many things that could happen to someone she loved that no one could prevent.
“Stop,” he whispered. “I can feel you spinning. Everything is fine. I promise.”
Sam took a deep breath, closed her eyes and carried his assurances to sleep with her.
CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_5661000e-0e4c-5657-84aa-e15eacee2067)
NICK WAS RELEASED from the hospital the next afternoon. With the hospital surrounded by photographers hoping for a glimpse of the ailing vice president, the Secret Service arranged for him to be released through a loading dock.
“I’ve been officially reduced to cargo,” he said when they were settled in the back of one of the big black SUVs.
Sam took hold of his hand. “Precious cargo.” Though he looked a thousand times better than he had yesterday, he was moving slowly and his face was still paler than Sam had ever seen it.
They were whisked through the streets of the city with the kind of efficiency only the Secret Service could provide in the notoriously clogged District. On the way up the ramp to their house, Nick waved to the photographers that had gathered outside the Secret Service checkpoint on Ninth Street.
“I predict that photo will be on the front page of every paper in the country tomorrow,” Sam said.
“Maybe they’ll stop frothing at the mouth now that they know I’m going to live.”
“Too soon for jokes.” Her cell phone rang, and after a brief glance at the caller ID, she ignored the call from Darren Tabor. He was on her shit list after publishing the article about her suspension.
Melinda, the agent on duty, opened the door for them. “Welcome home, Mr. Vice President. Good to see you looking well.”
“Thanks, Melinda.”
Sam wanted to tell Secret Service Barbie to get her filthy eyes off her husband, but she held back that urge. One of these days...
Scotty came rushing toward them, hurtling himself into Nick’s outstretched arms, which cleared Sam’s mind of every thought that wasn’t focused on her family.
“So glad you’re home,” Scotty said.
“Good to be here.” Nick smiled at her over Scotty’s head as he hugged their son for much longer than usual since Scotty had become a teenager and began recoiling from most forms of parental affection. “You’re feeling better?”
“A lot better today. How about you?”
“Same. Still not perfect, but better.”
“This would be a good day to binge watch Star Wars,” Scotty said.
“I can’t think of anything I’d rather do,” Nick replied.
They went upstairs to the master bedroom, and Sam got them settled in bed with remote controls and tall glasses of ice water. She’d been taught a big lesson about the perils of dehydration and was pushing the water hard.
“Move over and let me in,” she said to Scotty.
“You hate Star Wars.”
“True, but I love you, and I need some snuggles.”
He curled up his lip at the word snuggle, but he moved closer to Nick to let her in.
She had just gotten settled when her phone rang again. Prepared to tell Darren to fuck off and leave her alone, she flipped open the phone.
“Sam, we’ve got a problem,” Freddie said. “You need to get over here.”
“What kind of problem?”
“Josh is going off the rails. He’s terrified his father is going to have him killed.”
“What? He said that?”
“He’s been ranting about it all morning. I tried to talk him down because I know you’re dealing with Nick and the flu and everything, but he’s losing it. Nothing I say gets through to him.”
The last freaking thing she felt like doing was leaving the nice warm bed and her two favorite people, but she couldn’t let Freddie twist in the wind alone with Josh. “Where are you?”
“Crystal Gateway. He’s paranoid about me calling you. He’s convinced Hamilton is probably having you followed.”
“How would Hamilton even know I’m involved?”
“Josh says he knows everything.” After a brief pause, Freddie added, “In case there’s any truth to it, shut your phone off before you leave so he can’t find you.”
“So you’re buying into the conspiracy theories?”
Lowering his voice, Freddie said, “There’s something about how fearful he is that’s resonating with me. I’m getting a gut check.”
Sam had taught him to trust his gut, so the comment had her moving a little quicker to put on the shoes she’d only recently kicked off. “I’ll be there shortly.”
“Thanks.”
While Scotty’s gaze remained glued to the action on the TV, Nick was watching her. “What’s up?” he asked.
“Josh is melting down. Gotta do some damage control. I shouldn’t be long.”
“Be careful.”
She went around the bed to kiss him, which had Scotty making retching noises.
Nick smiled and curled his hand around her neck to keep her there for a moment longer. Into her ear, he whispered, “Watch out for Troy Hamilton. Be extra careful.”
“I will. Don’t worry.”
“That’ll be the day.”
Mindful of Freddie’s warning, she powered down her phone and put it in her pocket. Though she was suspended, she still unlocked her bedside table to retrieve the weapon she never left home without, except when running after the ambulance carrying her husband. She stuck her badge into her back pocket just in case she needed it, not that she expected to.
“Scotty, you’re in charge,” Sam said. “Make sure he does nothing but rest.”
“Got it,” he said, eyes still glued to the TV.
Though they were both a lot better than they’d been, she still hated to leave them, even for a couple of hours. And when she stepped outside the bedroom to see Melinda positioned in the hallway, she hated leaving them even more.
“They’re not to be disturbed for any reason,” Sam said.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Sam wanted to snap back at her, to tell her not to call her ma’am, but that would be pointless. As the second lady, she was ma’am to the Secret Service whether she wanted to be or not. There were battles that could be fought and won, but that wasn’t one of them. Besides, she had enough on her plate at the moment without taking on Nick’s detail.
Was it petty to let the woman bug her? Of course it was. Melinda was only doing her job, but why had her young, sexy husband warranted a young, sexy female agent on his detail? Sam wondered if there was someone she could complain to and get Melinda reassigned. But she’d never do that, especially as a law enforcement officer herself. It was hard enough working in the old boys’ club without making life difficult for a female colleague.
So she would keep her mouth shut and put up with Melinda’s presence in her home and her eyes on Nick, but she didn’t have to like it.
Traffic was light on Sunday afternoon, and she made good time on her way to Arlington, keeping half an eye on the rearview mirror looking for a tail that didn’t materialize. If Hamilton was having her followed, he wasn’t being obvious about it. There was no way anyone could get near her car outside the house with the Secret Service all over the place, and the car had been home since she brought Josh there the other day. For once, having the place crawling with Secret Service was coming in handy.
Well, that time they stopped Stahl from killing her on her own doorstep had been rather convenient too.
She kept an eye in the mirror as she took the 14th Street Bridge out of the city into Northern Virginia and headed for the Crystal City exit. That the Crystal Gateway Marriott was right next door to the Crystal City Marriott perplexed her as it always did. Who’d had the big idea to give two hotels practically the same name? Freddie had said Gateway, hadn’t he?
She pulled up to the main door and flashed her badge to the valet on duty. “I won’t be long.”
His eyes bugged when he recognized her.
Sam was long gone before he stopped gawking. Inside, she used a house phone to ask the operator to connect her with Freddie Cruz’s room. He answered on the first ring.
“Yeah.”
“It’s me. Where are you?”
“Room 718.”
“On my way.”
“Were you tailed?”
“Not that I could tell.”
“Okay.”
Sam took the elevator to the seventh floor and followed the hallway signs to the room. She knocked once, and Freddie opened the door. With one look she could see he was harried and annoyed.
“Thank God you’re here,” he said in a low growl. “He’s driving me nuts.”
Josh was pacing the small room, energy coming off his body in waves that were nearly visible. With his face a scary shade of red, he looked like he was about to blow from the pressure building inside him.
“Josh,” Sam said, since he hadn’t seemed to notice her arrival.
Whirling around, he said, “You gotta let me out of here. He’s going to find me. I’m like a sitting duck here.”
“Calm down—”
“Don’t tell me to calm down! You don’t know him! You don’t know what he’s capable of!”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
His lips tightened as he shook his head. “Take my word for it.”
“I wish I could, but I just met you on Friday, and his reputation is legendary, so you’ll have to forgive me if I need more to go on.”
He took a series of deep breaths, obviously trying to calm himself down. “He raised me, and I’m terrified of him. What else do you need to know?”
“Specifics. Why are you terrified of him?”
“He’s ruthless. Nothing I ever did was good enough for him. If I screwed up, he beat the shit out of me. If I mouthed off, he beat the shit out of me.”
“Just you, or your siblings too?”
“I don’t know if he ever hit them. They’re older than me, and by the time I was old enough to be his punching bag they were out of the house.”
“And you never asked them?”
Shaking his head, he said, “Until now, I’ve never told anyone that he hit me.”
“Did your mother know?”
“I think she did, but she never said anything, and she certainly didn’t try to stop it.”
“So she wasn’t in the room when he hit you?”
“Never. It was only ever the two of us.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this the other day?”
“Because! It’s not something I just blab about. I know who he is and what people think of him. Who’s going to believe me over him?”
“I believe you, Josh.”
He stopped moving, and his shoulders sagged, as if he’d been relieved of a weighty burden. “You do? Really?”
“Yeah, I do. I’ve been in this business a lot of years, and I know the difference between someone who’s playing the sympathy card and someone who’s been the victim of violence.”
At that, he stood up straighter again. “I am not a victim. I’m a survivor. Huge difference.”
“You’re right. There is a huge difference.”
“I can’t stay here. He’s going to find me, and when he does, he’ll kill me.”
Sam exchanged glances with Freddie, who looked as tense as she felt. “Give me a minute to talk to my partner, okay? We’ll figure something out.”
Josh didn’t acknowledge her question or her statement, so Sam turned and took Freddie by the arm. “Hallway.”
They stepped outside the room.
“You’ve got a key?”
“Yeah.”
She nodded toward the alcove next to the elevators, which was just around the corner from the room. “What’s your take?” she asked when they were out of earshot of the room.
“I believe him. He’s legitimately terrified.”
“I agree. I think it’s time to call in the brass on this. I didn’t want to until we were sure we had something, but his fear is enough for me to involve the department. This is way above my pay grade.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that. How do we explain what we’ve done so far?”
“I’ll figure that out on the way to Farnsworth’s house.”
“You’re going to his house?”
“That’s where I’m most likely to find him on a Sunday afternoon, and PS I grew up going to his house, remember?”
“Since I wasn’t actually there, no, I don’t remember.”
“Very funny. I’m suspended, so they have to cut me out of this, but you’ll keep me in the loop, understood?”
“Of course. What do we tell Josh?”
“That I’m going to talk to my chief to figure out how to keep him safe while investigating his claims.”
“He’s gonna freak. He’s been ranting that people are going to find out the truth about Troy Hamilton and how someone’s going to kill him.”
“You think he’s mentally ill?”
“No, I think he’s truly terrified. When the calls from his father started, he did a one-eighty. Before that he was calm, we were chilling, watching TV. After the calls, he was unhinged. I’ve seen nothing that smacks of mental illness, and I’d recognize it if I saw it.” The comment was a reminder that Freddie’s father, who’d recently reentered his life after a twenty-year absence, suffered from bipolar disorder.
“I’ll talk to him and explain the plan. Your job is to keep him calm until I get back.”
“Lucky me.” They rounded the corner and Freddie withdrew the keycard from his pocket to open the door to an empty room. “Aw, shit, he’s gone.”
“Check the bathroom,” Sam said, her heart sinking.
“Gone.”
“Fuck.” She rushed out of the room and ran for the stairwell at the end of the hallway, well aware that he had a decent head start on them. Freddie’s pounding footsteps followed behind her. They went down seven flights and burst into the lobby, startling an older couple.
“You’re the second lady!” the man said.
Ignoring him, Sam said to Freddie, “Take the back.” She ran for the main doors, hoping for a glimpse of Josh before he disappeared, but there was no sign of him. Motherfucker. She jogged to the corner of Fifteenth Street, but he wasn’t there either. Goddamn it.
Freddie came out the front door and ran over to her. “Anything?”
“No.”
Sam powered up her phone and tried to call Josh, but the call went straight to voicemail. She left a message, begging him to call her, to trust her to keep him safe, and then slapped the phone closed.
“So what now?”
“Now I do what I probably should’ve done on Friday,” she said grimly. “I’m going to Farnsworth.”
“What should I do?”
“Grab your stuff and anything of Josh’s out of the room and go home.. I’ll call you after I see the chief.”
“You were trying to help him, Sam. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Maybe so, but if he turns up dead, that’s on me.”
“No, it’s on the person who kills him.”
“Let’s hope we can find him before anything happens.”
“Since I’ve got nothing going on at home until later when Elin gets back, I’m heading to HQ. Hit me up there when you know what the plan is.”
“What do I tell the Rollings family if he turns out to be their son and I can’t find him?”
“We’ll find him.”
As Sam trudged to her car, her stomach aching the way it used to when she was strung out on diet cola, she wished she shared his certainty.
CHAPTER NINE (#ulink_5cf0727a-1873-505f-9294-7de7f00236a9)
JOE AND MARTI FARNSWORTH lived in a modest home in the city’s Kingman Park neighborhood, known for its brick-fronted townhouses and social activism. The chief believed in living among the people he served, and they had resided in the same house for more than thirty years. Sam and her sisters had been frequent guests there, for holidays, barbecues and even an occasional sleepover.
Uncle Joe and Aunt Marti had been like family to the Holland girls, which is why Sam didn’t think twice about going to the chief’s home on a Sunday afternoon. Marti answered the door, her face lighting up with pleasure at the sight of Sam. They’d last seen each other at Nick’s inauguration.
Sam returned Marti’s warm embrace.
“What a lovely surprise! Joe and I were talking about you and Nick last night. We heard he was in the hospital! Is he all right?”
“He’s much better. He and Scotty have been laid low by the flu.”
“Aww, the poor guys.”
“The good news is I finally have definitive proof that Nick is not superhuman.”
Marti laughed as she linked her arm through Sam’s to lead her into the family room where Joe was face-first in the Redskins game. “Earth to honey, we have a visitor.”
Joe tore his gaze off the TV and did a double take when he saw Sam with Marti.
“Sorry to bother you at home, sir.”
“Oh, stop that, Sam,” Marti said. “He’s Uncle Joe here.”
“He’s always sir to me now, ma’am.”
Though Marti scowled, her eyes glimmered with amusement.
“If I have to be called ma’am in my own house, so do you,” Sam added.
“Fair enough,” Marti said with a laugh. “I assume this isn’t a social call, so I’ll leave you to talk to your uncle Joe. I’m off to the grocery store.” She gave Sam a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t be a stranger around here, okay?”
“I won’t. Sorry it’s been so long since I stopped by.”
She swept away Sam’s apology with the wave of her hand. “No apologies needed. You’re the second-busiest lady in America these days, and I’d venture to guess Gloria Nelson’s schedule hasn’t got anything on yours.”
“Your words, not mine.”
Marti laughed. “Spoken like the wife of a politician. You take care.”
“You too, Aunt Marti.”
Marti kissed her husband before she left through the kitchen.
“You two are still honeymooning, huh?” Sam asked as she took a seat, propping her elbows on her knees. Her family had always teased the Farnsworths about their adorable PDA habit.
He eyed her shrewdly and muted the game. “Is that why you’re here? To tease me about kissing my wife?”
“No,” she said with a sigh. “We have a situation.”
“How’s it possible that you have a situation when you’re suspended?”
“Well, it’s sort of like this.” Making use of the department-issued tablet that sat on his coffee table along with files he’d brought home from the office, she showed him the age-progression photo, explained how Josh Hamilton had sought her out and everything that’d happened since then, concluding with the information that he was now on the run. As she spoke, Farnsworth’s normally amiable expression hardened.
“So let me get this straight—while you’re serving out a suspension, you took on a new case involving the son of the FBI director, you called in the District’s chief medical examiner to take a swab that will be processed through the District’s lab and asked Detective Cruz to provide protection for Mr. Hamilton—”
“At my expense.”
“Still, you involved Detective Cruz, and now the man you were trying to protect has gone missing. Do I have the facts correct?”
It took everything she had not to squirm under his intense glare. “You do.”
He stared at her for a long time before he shook his head in apparent dismay. “You do not make it easy, Lieutenant.”
She was about to ask him what he meant by that but she didn’t have to.
“You’re always coloring outside the lines, and it’s becoming increasingly more difficult for me to defend your actions.”
Ouch. That hurt. “I don’t expect you to defend me or to understand why I do the things I do. You want results. I get you results. Every time.”
“You’ll never hear me deny that. But the means to the end, Lieutenant, is where we have a problem.”
To hear him say they had a problem raised all sorts of alarms within her, but now was not the time to worry about alarms. “You have to understand the spot I was in—Josh refused to deal with anyone but me, and if it turns out that he is this missing kid, how could I not try to get those answers for the poor parents who’ve spent thirty years looking for him?”
“I do understand the spot you were in, and I hope you understand the spot you’ve put me in. You’ve got a man accusing the FBI director of kidnapping, and you didn’t think I needed to know that the second it happened?”
“No one has accused Director Hamilton of anything.”
“Semantics, Lieutenant. The second you involved Dr. McNamara you involved the department, and you know it.”
“So what do we do now? Hamilton is on the run, and he’s convinced that if his father finds him, he’ll kill him.”
“He said that? Those exact words?”
“Those exact words.”
“Jesus. And you believed him?”
“Both Detective Cruz and I believe he was genuinely afraid for his life.”
Farnsworth reached for the landline extension that sat on the coffee table and dialed a number, keeping his steely stare fixed on her. “This is Chief Farnsworth. Put me through to Conklin.” After a pause, he said, “Hey, it’s me. I’m with Holland and we need an APB for Josh Hamilton.” He provided a description based on the photo Sam had shown him. “I want everyone looking for him. Notify Maryland and Virginia State Police. He was last seen on foot in the Crystal City area just over an hour ago. If we find him, take him into protective custody.” After a pause, he said, “Yes, she knows she suspended. I’ll fill you in later. Ask for hourly reports from Patrol.”
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Marie Force
Every family has its secrets… As the first anniversary of her marriage to Vice President Nick Cappuano approaches, Lieutenant Sam Holland is dreaming of Bora Bora—sun, sand and a desperately needed break from the DC grind. But real life has a way of intervening, and Sam soon finds herself taking on one of the most perplexing cases of her career.Government worker Josh Hamilton begs Sam to investigate his shocking claim that his parents stole him from another family thirty years ago. More complicated still, his "father" is none other than the FBI director. When a member of Josh's family is brutally murdered, Sam begins to question how deep this cover-up goes. Is it possible the revered director was part of a baby-napping ring and that others involved are also targets?With a killer intent on deadly revenge and her team still reeling from a devastating loss, Sam's plate is full—and when Nick and their son, Scotty, take ill, is her dream of a tropical anniversary celebration in peril too?
Every family has its secrets...
As the first anniversary of her marriage to Vice President Nick Cappuano approaches, Lieutenant Sam Holland is dreaming of Bora Bora—sun, sand and a desperately needed break from the DC grind. But real life has a way of intervening, and Sam soon finds herself taking on one of the most perplexing cases of her career.
Government worker Josh Hamilton begs Sam to investigate his shocking claim that his parents stole him from another family thirty years ago. More complicated still, his “father” is none other than the FBI director. When a member of Josh’s family is brutally murdered, Sam begins to question how deep this cover-up goes. Is it possible the revered director was part of a baby-napping ring and that others involved are also targets?
With a killer intent on deadly revenge and her team still reeling from a devastating loss, Sam’s plate is full—and when Nick and their son, Scotty, take ill, is her dream of a tropical anniversary celebration in peril too?
Praise for the Fatal Series by New York Times bestselling author Marie Force
“Force’s skill is also evident in the way that she develops the characters, from the murdered and mutilated senator to the detective and chief of staff who are trying to solve the case. The heroine, Sam, is especially complex and her secrets add depth to this mystery... This novel is The O.C. does D.C., and you just can’t get enough.”
—RT Book Reviews on Fatal Affair (4½ stars)
“Force pushes the boundaries by deftly using political issues like immigration to create an intricate mystery.”
—RT Book Reviews on Fatal Consequences (4 stars)
“The romance, the mystery, the ongoing story lines...everything about these books has me sitting on the edge of my seat and begging for more. I am anxiously awaiting the next in the series. I give Fatal Deception an A.”
—TheBookPushers.com
“The suspense is thick, the passion between Nick and Sam just keeps getting hotter and hotter.”
—Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews on Fatal Deception
“The perfect mesh of mystery and romance.”
—Night Owl Reviews on Fatal Scandal (5 stars)
Fatal Identity
Marie Force
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For Uncle Bobby
1933–2016
Love you always.
Contents
Cover (#u57c2b4d9-8bdf-547a-9326-3350356b3332)
Back Cover Text (#uf581f31d-9666-5f2a-95d5-bcc519a9979b)
Praise (#u6e437f5a-c67b-56ac-82bf-70d53bb61193)
Title Page (#u0cc26640-4844-582b-b771-c472d10edc26)
Dedication (#u22d2a64c-6347-5e31-be4a-a4f171b02d9b)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_7111d4eb-2164-5856-a55b-6740279a7fb5)
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_40755a3e-c3d9-5006-a6eb-ac1cceef77cb)
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_69f3d10f-5662-5f12-a72b-5c6599a76624)
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_2744577e-9347-5672-ab1b-f7c3534df53b)
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_040c66ee-e39c-541c-80ae-41807b19f3a7)
CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_6cffcbc3-7add-5308-ad38-015d92d22deb)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_240907fc-c5bd-54c6-9798-3aed842dfc8a)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_7f85d0d4-dae7-5f45-9c7a-6e02ab8f8302)
CHAPTER NINE (#ulink_2a68ab30-8086-5174-8cef-1334ab94994b)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_b2f2ae0a-e6ea-571f-a540-aee9106f4bc4)
STANDING BEFORE THE Internal Affairs Board that would determine her fate, Detective Lieutenant Samantha “Sam” Holland was at peace. If they busted her down a rank or two, so be it. Her life would be a whole lot less complicated with someone else in charge of the Homicide unit. Sure, she’d rather be the boss, but having been the boss for more than a year now, she wouldn’t cry over letting someone else do it.
Of course, knowing there was no one else who could do it at the moment added to her peaceful, easy feeling. Her number two in command, Detective Sergeant Tommy “Gonzo” Gonzales, had understandably been a mess since his partner was gunned down right in front of him, and as he was the only one the brass would even consider for the top spot, Sam wasn’t worried.
Would there be some sort of hell to pay for punching Sergeant Ramsey in the face? Probably. Would she do it again if she had it to do over? Abso-fucking-lutely. He’d had it coming after what he’d said. I would’ve thought Stahl had taken some of the starch out of you... That any member of the department could make light of what their former colleague had done to her was beyond reprehensible. And besides, how was it her fault that Ramsey had fallen down the stairs, broken his wrist and given himself a concussion? The guy needed to learn to take a punch.
Deputy Chief Conklin cleared his throat, and something about the way he wouldn’t look at her made Sam nervous for the first time. “Lieutenant, we’ve reviewed the testimony provided by you and Detective Sergeant Ramsey about the incident in question. While we agree that Sergeant Ramsey’s comments were unfortunate and unnecessary, your actions amount to conduct unbecoming an officer of your rank and stature.”
Sam kept her expression blank even though her insides began to quiver like a bowl of gelatin. Crap. Here it comes, the reduction in rank. It’s okay, she told herself. It’ll be okay. This, right here, was why police officers commonly referred to IAB as “The Bureau of Proctology.”
“The board has agreed that you are to serve a four-day unpaid suspension effective immediately. Your first day back will be next Wednesday at zero seven hundred. Furthermore, you’ll be requested to make a one-thousand-dollar donation to the Widows and Children’s Fund. Finally, you should be aware that U.S. Attorney Forrester is considering criminal assault charges. That concludes this hearing. We’re adjourned.”
Conklin stood to leave the room, while Sam remained riveted in place, at once relieved and filled with dread over the possibility of criminal charges. She’d really stepped into a steaming pile this time, but she still didn’t regret punching that mouthy son of a bitch.
“Lieutenant.”
At the sound of Captain Malone’s deep voice, Sam looked up at her commander.
He took her by the elbow to lead her from the hearing room. “Could’ve been much worse,” he said in a low tone that only she could hear.
“How serious is Forrester about criminal charges?”
“The question is how serious Ramsey is about wanting to see your ass in a sling. He’s the one forcing Forrester’s hand by demanding he press charges.”
“Of course he is. As far as I’m concerned, Ramsey can kiss my ass.”
“You shouldn’t have hit him, Sam.”
“You would’ve hit him too if you’d been there.”
“Possibly.”
“Definitely.”
They walked back to the detectives’ pit where most of her squad was waiting for the results of the hearing.
Detective Freddie Cruz, Sam’s partner and close friend, jumped up when she and Malone entered the pit. “Well, what’d they say?”
“You’ll be glad to know you’re rid of me for the next four days, but like the flu, I’ll be back.”
His relieved expression was almost comical. “Thank goodness.”
“Lieutenant,” Detective Jeannie McBride said, “while you were at the hearing a man was here asking to speak with you. He said it was very important, and he would only talk to you.”
“Who was it?”
“He refused to leave his name,” Jeannie said. “But he was very insistent about speaking only to the vice president’s wife.”
“He asked for me that way?” Sam said. “That almost guarantees I won’t see him.”
“That’s what we told him. I think he’s gone now.”
“Um, Lieutenant,” Malone said, “I believe you were on your way out?”
Sam scowled at him and then went into her office to shut down her computer and grab her coat, purse and gloves. Then she closed and locked her door before addressing her squad. “Hold down the fort while I’m gone, and call me if you need me.”
“Don’t call her about police business, however,” Malone said, “because she can’t help you with that for the next four days.”
“They know that,” she said. “Don’t you?”
Mumbled replies of “yes, ma’am” followed her question.
Speaking only to Cruz, she said, “Where’s Gonzo?”
“No-show,” he said softly.
She gave his arm a squeeze. “I’ll check on him.”
“Let me know.”
“I will.”
Malone walked her out.
“Have you been assigned to escort me from the premises?”
“I volunteered.”
“Lucky me.” She glanced up at him as they went toward the lobby and main exit. “You’ll keep an eye on my squad for me, won’t you? They’re all a bit fragile these days after losing Arnold, and Gonzo is in no condition to be put in charge.”
“We know. I’ll be overseeing Homicide until you return. What do we know about where Sergeant Gonzales is today?”
Sam had hoped he wouldn’t notice Gonzo wasn’t in the pit. She should’ve known better. “We don’t know anything, but I’m going to find out what’s up as soon as I can.”
“I’ve noticed he’s been absent a lot lately.”
“He refused to take leave after Arnold was killed, but he’s called out sick a few times, and between you and me, I suspect it’s bottle flu more than actual sickness.”
“So he’s drinking.”
“I think so, and I can’t say I blame him. What he saw, right in front of him... And he blames himself because he let Arnold take the lead to get him to shut up. In the few times I’ve actually gotten him to talk to me, he says it should’ve been him.”
“He didn’t do anything wrong.”
“We both know that, but there’s no telling him.”
“Has he been keeping his appointments with Trulo?” Malone asked, referring to the department’s psychiatrist.
“Yeah, but I don’t see where it’s doing any good. He seems to be getting more withdrawn all the time.”
Malone sighed. “I know. We’ve all noticed.”
“I’ll give him a call and see what’s up today. This is the first time he’s actually failed to show up for a shift without getting in touch with me.”
“You can check on him as a friend, of course, but not as a supervisor.”
“Believe it or not, Captain, I’ve been suspended before, and I know how this works.”
They were nearly to the door when he stopped her with a hand to her arm. “I have to tell you, Lieutenant, that in your place, after what you went through with Stahl, I probably would’ve clocked Ramsey for what he said. But—”
Sam rolled her eyes. “How did I know there was a ‘but’ coming?”
“I want to see you rise through the ranks and be rewarded for your hard work and service to the department. I can almost guarantee that’s not going to happen if you get suspended again.”
Sam thought about that for a second before she replied. “I appreciate your candor, as always, but if I never go any further than lieutenant, I will have done a thousand times better than I ever expected after coming in here with dyslexia and my father’s legacy to live up to. It’s been a great career. I wouldn’t change a single thing, even the stuff that got me suspended, because the first time I got Nick out of it, and the second time I got to deck Ramsey and then listen to him squeal like a baby. Life is good, you know?”
Malone grunted out a laugh. “You’re too much, Holland.”
“I know. You guys tell me that all the time.”
“Be gone with you, and don’t let me see you around these parts until Wednesday.”
“Ahhh,” she said with a dramatic sigh, “bubble baths and bonbons for four whole days. Punish me please. Maybe Nick can punch the president and get himself suspended from the White House. I’ll have to ask him if he’s got any scores to settle, because this would be a great time to get it done.”
“You’re taking this surprisingly well, Lieutenant.”
“I almost died in that basement with Stahl. It takes a lot to rattle my cage after that.”
“Possible criminal charges are no laughing matter. You might want to talk to one of the union attorneys while you’re off, just in case.”
“I’ll think about that. Can you imagine the headlines? Vice President’s Wife Charged With Assault. Something tells me the White House communications people have never dealt with that particular headline.”
“Safe to say they’ve never dealt with the likes of you.”
“Aw, Captain, you flatter me. I’d better get out of here before someone hears I’m still here and I get in more trouble. Take care of my people for me.”
“I will.”
Sam pushed through the double doors and into cool, crisp winter air that smelled like snow. She’d had a conversation yesterday with her son, Scotty, about how air can smell like snow. Scotty said it wasn’t possible to smell snow, even after she got him to take a few deep breaths to see what she meant. He remained skeptical, but she had a few more weeks of winter to prove her point.
“Mrs. Cappuano.”
Sam turned toward the man who’d called to her. He was in his late twenties or early thirties, handsome with dark blond hair and brown eyes. The panic she saw in his expression put her immediately on alert. “That’s me, although they don’t call me that around here. And you are?”
“Josh Hamilton.”
Sam shook his outstretched hand. “What can I do for you, Josh?”
“I need your help.”
“Okay.”
“This... It’s going to sound sort of crazy, so bear with me.” He took a deep breath. “Today I was bored at work, so I started surfing the web, you know, just clicking around aimlessly.”
As a technophobe of the highest order, Sam didn’t know because she’d never done that and certainly not at work, where she was usually too busy to pee, let alone surf.
Josh took another deep breath, and Sam’s anxiety ramped up a notch. “I saw this story about a baby who was kidnapped thirty years ago. They had this age-progression photo showing what he’d look like now, and...” He gulped. “It was me.”
“Wait. What?”
With trembling hands, Josh retrieved his cell phone from his pocket and called up a web page, zeroing in on a digitally produced photo that did, in fact, bear a striking resemblance to him.
“Those photos are produced by computers. They’re not exact.”
“That’s me! And it explains why I’ve never felt at home or accepted in my family. What if they took me?”
“Hang on a minute. What evidence do you have to suspect that your parents participated in a criminal act to bring you into their family?”
He seemed to make an effort to calm down. “They’re extremely accomplished people and so are my siblings. My brother is a board-certified neurosurgeon. He went to Harvard for undergrad and medical school. My sister is an attorney, also Harvard educated, Law Review, the whole nine yards. And then there’s me. I barely made it out of state college after having spent most of my five years there on academic probation. After four years working for the federal government, I’m a GS-9 at Veterans Affairs, where I shuffle paper all day while counting the minutes until I can leave. The only reason I have that job is because my father, who has never approved of a thing I said or did, pulled strings to get me in. They’re all Republicans while I’m a liberal Democrat who fully supports your husband. I hope he runs in four years, by the way.”
“None of that proves your parents kidnapped you.”
“Will you take my case? Please? I need to know for sure. This would explain so much of why I’ve felt like a square peg in my own family my entire life.”
Sam held up a hand to stop him. “I’m a homicide cop, not a private investigator, but if you really believe a crime has been committed, I can refer you to someone within the department—”
“No.” He shook his head. “I want you. You’re the best. Everyone says so.”
“I’m honored you think so, but I’m on a leave of absence for the next few days, so I’m not able to take your case personally.”
“It has to be you. You’re the only one I’d trust to do it right.”
“The Metro PD has plenty of very qualified detectives who could look into this for you and help determine whether a crime has been committed, Mr. Hamilton.”
“You don’t understand. It can’t be any random detective. It can only be you.”
“Are you going to tell me why?”
He took another series of deep breaths, appearing to summon the courage he needed to tell her why. “It’s... He’s... Well, my dad, you see... He’s Troy Hamilton, the FBI director.”
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_03ba0836-3d05-5ad6-b762-6dd501f1f5e7)
HOLY BOMBSHELL, BATMAN! Sam’s mind raced with implications and scenarios and flat-out disbelief. “You can’t honestly believe that your father, one of the top law enforcement officials in the country, kidnapped a child thirty years ago.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Josh said.
“He’s one of the most respected men in our business. He’s revered.”
“Believe me, I know all about how revered he is. I hear about it on a regular basis.” He looked at her beseechingly. “You have to help me. I don’t know who else to turn to. Besides some of the people who work for my father, I don’t know any other cops, and you’re the best. And...I’m scared.” The last two words were said on a faint whisper.
Sam wanted nothing to do with the snake pit this case could turn out to be, but the detective in her was far too intrigued to walk away. “How’d you get here?”
“I took the Metro.”
She took a look around to see if anyone was watching, but the parking lot was deserted, and the usual band of reporters that stalked the MPD were taking the day off. They tended to do that when it was freezing. “Come with me.” She led him to the tricked-out black BMW her husband had recently given her and gestured for Josh to get in the passenger side.
Though she had no idea what she planned to do with him or the information he’d dropped in her lap, she couldn’t walk away from what he’d told her. “Tell me more about this website where you saw the photo.”
“It’s a blog run by parents of missing children.”
“How did you end up there?”
“I read a story about a baby who was kidnapped from a hospital in Tennessee the day after he was born and how his parents have never stopped looking for him. The thirtieth anniversary of the abduction is coming up, so they’ve gotten some regional publicity. There was a link in the story that led to the blog where the age-progression photo was.”
“So the photo hasn’t been picked up by the media?”
“Not that I could tell, but I was too freaked out by what I was seeing to dig deeper, especially since my thirtieth birthday is next week. I told my boss I had an emergency. I left the office and came right to you.”
“Why me?”
“Are you serious? After what you did at the inauguration, the whole country knows what an amazing cop you are. Who else would I go to with something like this?”
Sam winced at the reference to her crowd surfing stunt during the inaugural parade. She wished people would forget about that and move on, but the media attention on her and Nick had been even more relentless than usual since the inauguration and since their interview last week with one of the network morning shows. They’d hoped the interview would diffuse the interest, but that had backfired. Andrea, her White House communications director, had been inundated with hundreds of new interview requests for Sam, all of which she’d declined. The last thing she needed was more attention focused on her.
“You realize that accusing the FBI director of a capital felony is not something you do without stacks of proof that he was involved.”
“That’s where you come in. I need proof, and I need it fast before that picture gets picked up by the wires or social media and flung around the country. I need proof before he knows that I know.”
Sam had to agree that time was of the essence before this thing blew up into a shitstorm of epic proportions. With that in mind, she started the car, pulled out of the MPD parking lot and into weekday afternoon traffic that clogged the District on the way toward Capitol Hill.
“Where are we going?”
“My house.”
She glanced over at him and saw his eyes get big. “For real?”
“Yes, for real.” She paused before she continued. “Look, if you want me to dig into this, I have to do it at home. I’m serving out a suspension for punching another officer.”
“Whoa.”
“As you can imagine, I’d prefer that not be all over the news in light of who my husband is, and I’ve gotta stay below the radar on this or my bosses will be all over me.”
“No one will hear it from me.”
After a slow crawl across the District, Sam pulled up to the Secret Service checkpoint on Ninth Street. Normally they waved her through, but she had to stop to clear her guest. “They’ll need to see your ID.”
Josh pulled his license from his wallet and handed it to her.
She gave it to the agent, who took a close look before returning it to her. “Thank you, ma’am. Have a nice day.”
“You too.”
“What’s that like?” Josh asked. “Being surrounded by Secret Service all the time?”
“About as much fun as you’d expect it to be.”
“Why don’t you have a detail?”
“Because I don’t need one. I can take care of myself.” Thankfully, he didn’t mention the recent siege in Marissa Springer’s basement as an example of her inability to take care of herself. Sam liked to think that was a onetime lapse in judgment, never to be repeated.
Outside their home, her husband’s motorcade lined the street. What was he doing home so early?
She parked in her assigned spot—everyone who lived on Ninth Street now had assigned parking spaces—and headed up the ramp that led to their home.
“Why do you have a ramp?” Josh asked.
“My dad’s a quadriplegic. He lives down the street. My husband installed the ramp so he can visit.”
“Oh, that’s cool. Sorry about your dad, though.”
“Thanks.”
Nick’s lead agent, John Brantley Jr., met her at the door. “Lieutenant.”
“Brant. What’s he doing home so early?”
“The vice president isn’t feeling well.”
“Say what?”
He gave her a “you heard me” look that nearly made her laugh, except she was too concerned about Nick to laugh. Her invincible husband didn’t get sick the way other mortals did. In all the time they’d been together, she’d never known him to have so much as a cold.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“He didn’t say, and I didn’t ask.”
She used her thumb to point to her guest. “This is Josh—he’s with me.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She hated the way the agents insisted on calling her ma’am, as if she were seventy years old or something, but she’d chosen not to fight that battle. She wanted to say, if you can call me ma’am why can’t you call me Sam? Close enough, wasn’t it? But Nick had asked her not to make an issue of it, so she didn’t. But she wanted to.
“Have a seat.” She directed Josh to the sofa while she tossed her coat over the back of it. “I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.”
Sam dashed upstairs to their bedroom, anxious to see what was wrong with Nick, who’d been fine earlier. She found him in bed, curled into the fetal position, and was instantly concerned. Leaning over the bed, she pressed a kiss to his forehead, which was on fire. “Babe.”
“Mmm.”
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Don’t know. Was fine and then I wasn’t.”
“You’re burning up. Did you take something?”
“Couldn’t. Stomach.”
“I’m calling Harry.”
“No, I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine, and I’m calling Harry.”
He mumbled something that sounded like “don’t bother him,” but to hell with that. She was bothering him. Withdrawing her cell phone from her pocket, she found the number for one of their closest friends, who happened to be a doctor, and made the call.
“Madame Vice President,” Harry said. “To what do I owe the honor?”
“Nick is sick. Can you come over?”
“Sick with what?”
“I don’t know. He said it came on out of nowhere, and now he’s burning up and says his stomach hurts too bad to take anything.”
“Sounds like the flu. Keep your distance.”
“Way too late for that warning.” Sam winced when she thought of the sex they’d had last night and again this morning. Not getting too close to her husband was usually the last thing she wanted to do.
“Figures with you two,” Harry said with a huff of laughter. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Can you clear me through security?”
“Yeah, I’ll let them know.”
“Try not to worry. He’s an ox. He’ll be fine.”
Sam usually took Harry’s assurances to heart, but she was worried. She’d never seen Nick this way and had no idea what to do to make him feel better. She hated feeling powerless. Then she remembered Josh was downstairs waiting for her to figure out what to do about his suspicions.
So much for a nice, peaceful few days “off.”
Sam ran her fingers through Nick’s hair, which was sweaty from the fever. “Babe, I have to go downstairs and take care of something. I’ll be right back up, okay?”
He had gone back to sleep and didn’t respond.
Sam bent over to kiss his cheek, trying not to notice that he already felt hotter than he had a few minutes ago. She ran back downstairs to where Josh was waiting right where she’d left him. His leg bounced as he bit his nails.
“Sorry about that.”
“No problem.”
Their assistant, Shelby Faircloth, came into the room from the kitchen, carrying a cup of tea and holding her iPad under her arm.
“Hey, Sam, what’re you doing home? And why is Nick here?”
“He’s sick, and I’m off for four days,” she said with a meaningful glance.
“Ahh, gotcha.” Shelby knew Sam was due to hear the results of the IAB hearing today.
“Could I borrow your iPad for a minute?” Sam asked. “Oh, and this is Josh. I’m helping him out with something. Josh, Shelby, our assistant.”
“Nice to meet you, Josh.” Shelby punched in her code and handed the iPad to Sam. “What’s going on?”
Without telling Shelby about Josh’s connection to Director Hamilton, Sam told her about the photo Josh had found on the Internet.
“Oh my,” Shelby said, dropping into a chair.
Sam gave the iPad to Josh. “Show me the site where you found the photo.”
He did some typing and poking at the screen until he landed on the site. “Here.”
Sam took it from him and scanned the text that accompanied the photo. A newborn male by the name of Taylor Rollings had gone missing from a maternity ward in Franklin, Tennessee, located twenty miles outside of Nashville in Williamson County. According to the article, the baby’s kidnapping had been the lead story for weeks in the Williamson Herald and had been picked up by papers and TV news channels around the state.
His parents—Chauncey, a farmer, and Micki, a homemaker—were now in their sixties but had never given up hope of finding their missing son.
“He was taken right out of his bassinet while I was sleeping,” Micki said in the article, “and we’ve never seen him again.” The reporter noted that Micki still weeps when she speaks of the son who disappeared on a cold winter night three decades ago. “I’ll never stop looking for him. As long as I have a breath left in me, I’ll look for him.”
Touched by Micki’s sorrow, Sam skimmed the rest of the article, planning to read everything she could find on the case later. “If you really think you’re the missing son of this family, we could reach out to local law enforcement in Williamson County.”
“What would happen then?”
“They’d probably request DNA and run it against Mr. Rollings to see if it’s a match. That might be a good place to start.”
“But what if it doesn’t match? They’ve been through so much. I’d hate to get their hopes up.”
“That’s a very real concern and one you’ll need to weigh carefully if you’re determined to go through with this.”
“What would you do?”
Sam tried to put herself in his place. “I’d want to know, but that’s my nature. I always want to know everything. I guess that’s why I’m good at my job. I’m not satisfied until I know the truth.”
“I don’t know what to do. You saw what they said about Taylor’s mom, how she still cries when she talks about him thirty years later. What it if turns out not to be true, and I get their hopes up?”
“What if it turns out to be true? What if you’re their missing son? Think about the peace and comfort you could bring them.”
He dropped his head into his hands and sighed.
“May I ask a question?” Shelby said.
Josh raised his head to nod.
“What’s your gut telling you? I’m a big believer in trusting my gut.”
“Me too,” Sam said.
“There’s something to this,” Josh said. “I know there is. I don’t know if I’m this missing kid, Taylor, or not, but when I saw the picture? I felt like I’d been struck by lightning.”
“You should listen to that feeling,” Shelby said.
“I agree,” Sam said. “Maybe there’s a way we can test the DNA without getting the parents involved until we know there’s a match.” She flipped open her phone and scrolled through her contacts to find Dr. Lindsey McNamara’s number.
“Hey, Sam,” Lindsey said. “Heard you were off for a few days.”
“Is that how it’s being played?”
“Well, actually I heard you were suspended for punching Ramsey.”
“I still say he had it coming.”
“You won’t hear any argument from me. So what’s up?”
“I need an off-the-books favor. I have a friend who needs a DNA test done. Do you think you could come by my house and take care of that for him?”
“Um, sure. I’m leaving for lunch shortly. Could I do it then?”
“That’d be perfect. And if you could keep this between us, I’d appreciate it.”
“Of course. No problem.”
“I’ll clear you through security.”
“See you soon.”
“Hey, Brant,” Sam said when she ended the call with Lindsey. “Would you please let them know outside that Drs. Harry Flynn and Lindsey McNamara will be coming over shortly?”
“Sure, thing, Mrs. Cappuano. No problem.”
“Thanks.”
“Who was that you called?” Josh asked.
“The District’s Chief Medical Examiner, Dr. Lindsey McNamara. She’s a friend and a colleague. I trust her to be discreet.”
“I thought medical examiners worked on dead people.”
“Usually they do, but she’s also a medical doctor and handles DNA testing for us.” She glanced at the stairs. “I need to check on my husband. He’s not feeling well. I’ll be right back down.”
Sam went upstairs to the bedroom, where Nick was exactly where she’d left him. She placed her head on his face and was stunned by how hot he felt. Running back downstairs, she called Harry again and got his voicemail. “Harry, it’s Sam again. He’s scary hot. I’m worried. Let me know if you think I should take him to the ER.”
Sam’s phone rang, and she pounced on it, hoping it was Harry. “Mrs. Cappuano, this is Mrs. Perry at Eliot-Hine. The school nurse asked me to call to let you know Scotty’s not feeling well. He has a fever of one hundred point two. Is it okay if we send him home with his detail?”
Sam’s heart sank at the news that Scotty was sick too. While she’d rather pick him up herself, the agents could get him home faster. “Yes, please. Send him home.”
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_561b2b74-9e36-5045-aa41-0b798495c504)
SCOTTY NARROWLY MISSED throwing up on Sam when she met him on the sidewalk in front of the house. Fortunately, she saw what was happening and jumped out of the way in time for him to puke on the street rather than on her. She patted his back and took tissues from Darcy, one of his agents, to wipe his mouth when he was done.
“Sorry,” he muttered. His face was so pale he barely resembled her robustly healthy son.
“Don’t be sorry. You can’t help it, buddy. You okay for now?”
“I think so.”
Sam wrapped her arm around him to lead him inside. “How long have you felt lousy?”
“About an hour. I was fine and then my head was spinning and my ears were buzzing. Then my stomach started hurting, and I felt really hot.”
“Whatever it is, your dad has it too, and Harry’s on his way.”
Scotty closed his eyes and leaned his head against her. “Okay.”
“Oh my goodness,” Shelby said when Sam brought him inside.
“You need to get out of here while the getting is still good,” Sam said. “Whatever they’ve got is the last thing you need.”
“I can’t leave you to deal with this by yourself.”
“Yes, you can. Go, Tinker Bell. That’s an order.”
“If you’re sure,” Shelby said tearfully. Everything made her cry these days.
“I’m very sure this is no place for a pregnant woman.”
“All right, I’m going. I’ll check in after a while.”
In a low voice only Shelby could hear, Sam added, “Please don’t say anything to anyone, even Avery, about what Josh told you.” Sam wanted to say especially Avery, but she showed some restraint. The last thing she needed was Shelby’s FBI agent fiancé catching wind of possible accusations against his boss. Shelby hadn’t put Hamilton plus Hamilton together to get Troy Hamilton, but Avery was apt to.
“I won’t. I promise.”
“Um, should I go too?” Josh asked, eyeing Scotty warily.
“No, you stay. I’ll be back down as soon as I can.” With her arm still around Scotty’s shoulders, she guided him to the stairs. “Come on, pal. You gotta help me out here.”
“Sorry.” He climbed the stairs in slow steps. By the time they reached the top, he’d broken into a sweat.
Sam wrangled him into his room, helped him out of his coat and sweater. “Do you want to do the jeans?”
“You can,” he said in the smallest voice she’d ever heard from him.
That her thirteen-year-old wanted help with his pants said a lot about how sick he really was. A pang of fear struck her heart. Where the hell was Harry?
She got Scotty out of the jeans and into a pair of flannel pajama pants that had the Batman logo all over them. He was asleep before she finished dressing him.
Sam pulled the comforter up and over him, tucking him in. She’d no sooner gotten him settled when she heard retching noises from her own room. She ran for the hallway.
“Is he okay?” Darcy asked from her post outside Scotty’s door.
“I don’t know. Doc is on his way.”
Sam went in to help Nick, who’d fortunately made it to the bathroom. Wetting a washcloth, she bathed his face and cradled his head against her chest between bouts of vomiting.
“Scotty has it too.”
He moaned. “Haven’t felt this bad ever.”
“I’m scared for you guys.”
He wrapped an arm around her, thinking of her first as he always did, even when he felt like hell. “Don’t be. Just the flu or something.”
It was the “or something” that scared the crap out of her.
“What happened at the hearing?” he asked.
“Suspended for four days, but don’t worry about that now. It’s no biggie.”
“Yes, it is. You’re not upset?”
“Nah. This too shall pass. I’m not sorry I slugged him. He had it coming.”
“He certainly did.”
“You ready to go back to bed?”
“So ready.”
It took both of them to get him up off the bathroom floor and back into bed. Sam tucked him in and sat next to him, stroking his hair and thinking about what to do with Josh.
With Nick asleep again, she crept out of the room and placed a call to Freddie.
“Hey, did you talk to Gonzo?” he asked.
“Jesus, I totally forgot. You won’t believe what’s been going on since I left HQ earlier.” She brought him up to speed on the situation with Josh Hamilton.
“Holy cow,” he said softly. “Director Hamilton’s son is accusing him of being a kidnapper?”
“We don’t know anything yet, other than Josh Hamilton closely resembles the age-progression photo the family released to mark the thirtieth anniversary of the kidnapping, and his thirtieth birthday is coming up. That’s all we know. Lindsey is coming to take a swab, and I’ll ask the lab to rush it. I’m going to reach out to the Williamson County people to let them know we might have a lead for them. Once we have the DNA, we’ll send it to Williamson County to see if it’s a match to the missing baby’s parents.”
“What if it is?”
“One thing at a time.”
“What can I do?”
“It’s kind of a big thing, but I need someone on Josh until we know what we’re dealing with. I’m sure you have plans this weekend—”
“Actually, Elin is going wedding dress shopping with her friends for the weekend, so I’m on my own.”
“How do you feel about hunkering down in a hotel with him until we know more?”
“I’d much rather hunker down in a hotel with Elin, but since that’s not happening this weekend, I can do it.”
“Are you sure? I’m technically not allowed to ask you to do anything, and I’m not sure how the OT will work. I’ll clean it up later with Malone.”
“Don’t sweat it. It all comes out in the wash.”
“In case I forget to tell you, you’re the best.”
“Yeah, yeah, so you say until you get mad with me and I’m not the best anymore.”
“When was the last time I was mad with you?”
“Um, when I tuned up Elliott?” he asked of the man who’d assaulted his fiancée.
“That was a very specific instance of you doing something stupid.”
“Sort of like you punching Ramsey?”
“Just like,” she said with a laugh. “Touché.”
“Where’s Josh now?”
“My living room.”
“Seriously? You brought him home with you?”
“Where else was I supposed to take him? HQ is off limits to me at the moment, and I wanted him somewhere that no one could get to him. This place is like Fort Knox these days, so where better?”
“I’ll come get him.”
“Enter at your own risk. Nick and Scotty are down hard with something that could be the flu but more closely resembles the bubonic plague.”
“Ah, damn, that’s too bad.”
“Puts a damper on my plans for a restful break,” she said as she looked in on Scotty and then Nick. Both were sleeping peacefully—for the moment.
The doorbell rang, and Sam headed for the stairs, praying it was Harry. “I gotta go. I’ll see you when you get here.”
“I’ll be there within the hour.”
“Thanks again.”
“No problem.”
It was a huge problem and an even bigger imposition, but he wouldn’t say so, and that made him the best partner she’d ever had. He did whatever she asked of him, no matter how outrageous the request.
She reached the living room as Brant ushered Dr. Harry Flynn into the house. “Thank God you’re here. My boys are sick as dogs.”
The handsome, dark-haired doctor kissed her cheek. “Boys plural?”
“Scotty came home with the same thing Nick has. They’re both scary sick.”
“Dr. Harry’s on the job. Lead the way.”
“Be right back,” Sam said to Josh as she took Harry upstairs, first to Scotty, who hadn’t budged since she tucked him in.
Harry took his temperature with a thingie he swiped over the boy’s forehead. “One-oh-three. That’s one heck of a fever. Did he mention any symptoms other than the vomiting?”
“He could barely hold himself up, let alone talk.”
“And he was fine this morning?”
“They both were—and then they weren’t.”
“It’s going around. We’ve seen it in the office.”
Sam felt slightly better to hear her guys hadn’t been taken down by something random.
“It’s usually a miserable day or two before they start to rebound.” He finished examining Scotty. “Let me take a quick look at Nick.”
“Right this way.”
Nick woke up while Harry was taking his temperature. “What’re you doing in my bedroom?”
“I came to seduce your wife since you’re not capable at the moment.”
Nick groaned and attempted a smile. “Hands off. She’s all mine.”
“One-oh-two,” Harry said, reading from the LCD. “How did it come on and what’re your symptoms?”
“I was in a meeting and my head started to buzz and my stomach started to hurt and within five minutes, I felt like I was going to pass out. Fortunately, Melinda saw it happen and was all over it. She and Brant got me out of there before I could puke in the White House.”
“Did she have her hands on you?” Sam asked of the blonde bombshell agent she called Secret Service Barbie.
“Relax. I didn’t feel a thing other than the need to puke.”
“I love how she’s jealous even when you’re sick as hell,” Harry said with a laugh.
“That’s my girl,” Nick said, his eyes closing. “True blue.” His hand found hers, and he linked their fingers.
No matter what the circumstances, he always knew how to handle her, and Sam didn’t mind being handled as long as he was the one doing it.
“I don’t think either of them needs more than rest and fluids. Unfortunately, it’s got to run its course. If they get any worse, don’t hesitate to call 911 and get them to the hospital.”
“That’s it? That’s all we can do?”
“For now. I’ll be checking in with you, and we’ll keep tabs on how they’re doing. Try not to worry. I know it’s hard to see them so sick, but you should see a big improvement by tomorrow. The most important thing is keeping them hydrated. Push the fluids.”
“All right. If you’re sure.”
He kissed her forehead. “I’m a phone call away if you need me. I promise they’re going to be fine.”
For the first time since she’d seen Nick looking like death warmed over, Sam relaxed ever so slightly. She wouldn’t completely relax, however, until they were both back to normal.
After she and Harry checked once more on their sleeping patients, she walked him downstairs and gave him a hug at the door. “Thanks for coming.”
“Anytime. Don’t hesitate to call me if they get any worse, okay?”
“You’ll be the first to know.”
He passed Lindsey McNamara on the ramp, and they exchanged a few words before Brant admitted Lindsey.
“Is it safe to come in?” Lindsey asked.
“Enter at your own risk,” Sam said. “We’re down hard with the flu.”
“Yikes.”
“At least my suspension is well-timed. I’m needed here for the next few days.”
“Silver lining,” Lindsey said with a smile. She glanced at Josh, who sat on the sofa, his leg still bouncing nervously. “Are you going to tell me what this is about?”
“I can’t. Not yet anyway. But suffice to say it’s a matter of paternity, and if it turns out to be something, it’s gonna be huge.”
“Say no more.”
Sam introduced her to Josh, and Lindsey explained the process of obtaining a cheek swab to test his DNA.
“How long will it take to get results?” he asked.
“I’ll put a rush on it, but it could be four or five days.”
“How will you know if someone is a match to my DNA?”
Lindsey glanced at Sam before she replied. “The basic DNA fingerprint or profile that we use for law enforcement or human identity purposes is called the nuclear or autosomal STR profile. STR means short tandem repeat, which describes repeating segments of DNA code at particular locations on the human genome.”
Josh’s eyes glazed over as Lindsey explained the technicalities.
“We’ll be looking for a match to your biological father,” she said when she seemed to realize she’d lost him. “The Y chromosome is passed down from father to son. The Y-STR profile for a father and a son should exactly match, except in rare cases of mutation. So this wouldn’t work for identifying a daughter, because a girl wouldn’t have the Y chromosome. The lab will rely upon a combination of information from autosomal STRs and the Y-STRs to make a determination of father/son. You see?”
Judging by his baffled expression, he didn’t see. He didn’t see at all. But he said, “I think so. Thank you for explaining.”
“No problem.”
“Thanks so much for coming, Lindsey.” Sam walked her to the door. “Let me know the second you have anything.”
“You know I will. Even with a rush it’ll be a few days.” Lindsey glanced at Brant guarding the door and lowered her voice. “I don’t know what you’re up to here, Sam, but you need to be careful. I heard Forrester is seriously considering assault charges.”
“So I’ve been told. And don’t worry. I’m being careful. This isn’t an official MPD case. He asked me for a favor. That’s all it is.”
“You’ve involved me, which involves the department.”
“No one knows that but you and me.”
“Be careful.”
“I hear you.”
“I’ll get back to you as soon as I have anything.”
“Thanks again, Lindsey.”
Sam returned to the sofa and sat next to Josh. “So here’s what I’m thinking. I’m going to reach out to law enforcement in Williamson County as a professional courtesy. I’ll tell them what I know so far and that we’ve taken DNA. I’ll strongly suggest they refrain from contacting the family until we know for sure there’s a match. That way if you’re not a match, we haven’t raised their hopes for no reason.”
“What do I do in the meantime?”
“We’re going to put you in a hotel with police protection until we know what we’re dealing with.”
“Is that really necessary?”
“If I didn’t think it was, I’d never ask you to do it.” Sam chose her words wisely. “If this turns out to be true, you’re sitting on a powder keg because of who raised you. If he was complicit in this, it’ll be the biggest BFD in the history of BFDs. You got me?”
“Yeah.” Arms on knees, he dropped his head and sighed. When he looked up at her, she saw his anguish. “You don’t really think he’d harm me or anything, do you?”
“If you’d asked me this morning if Director Hamilton had possibly raised a child kidnapped from another family, I would’ve said no way. And I remain ninety-nine percent skeptical that’ll turn out to be true. But if the one percent pans out...I have no idea what’ll happen, and I want to ensure your safety.”
He ran his fingers through his hair repeatedly.
“The choice is definitely yours, Josh. If you don’t want to be under police protection, you don’t have to be. But if I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t take any chances, especially since it’s only a matter of time before that photo goes viral.”
“You really think that’ll happen?”
“People are always interested in missing kids.”
“I wish I hadn’t seen it.”
Sam leaned in to put her hand on his arm. “If it turns out to be true, will you still feel that way?”
“I don’t know how to feel about any of this. Before I saw that picture, it never occurred to me that something like this was even possible. Now... Well, now I’m wondering if my whole life has been a lie. Did they just pretend to care about me when they were lying to me the whole time?”
“You’ll know soon enough, and until then, I recommend you let us keep you safe.”
“You and who else?”
“My partner, Detective Freddie Cruz. I trust him implicitly. You’ll be in very good hands with him, and as soon as we have the DNA results, we’ll get you some answers.”
“Fine. Okay. I’ll go with your partner.”
“I think that’s the wisest choice, especially since this place is overrun with the flu.”
“And you’ll let me know what’s going on?”
“I’ll be in touch with you the second we have anything concrete. I promise.”
With his face set in a grim expression, he nodded, seeming pacified for now. Sam entered his phone number into her contacts and gave him her number in case he needed her for anything. Freddie arrived a short time later, and Sam introduced him to Josh.
Josh shook his hand. “Nice to meet you. I guess we’re going to be roommates for the next few days.”
“Looks that way,” Freddie said. “You like the Skins?”
“Of course I do. Born and raised right here in D.C.”
“It’s Cowboys weekend, so at least we have something fun to watch.”
“I’ll spring for the beer.” Sam handed her credit card to Freddie. “Put the room on that too.”
“Your personal card? Will they let me do that?”
“Have them call me if you need to.”
“I could use my department card.”
She shook her head. “I’m keeping this separate for the time being. I’ll work out the expense side of it later.”
“You’re the boss.”
“Not right now, I’m not. Check in with me later.”
“Will do.”
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_f9945dbb-c05b-5ed9-99cc-8d04afef5ca2)
AFTER THEY LEFT, Sam went upstairs to look in on Scotty and Nick. They were both sleeping soundly, so she went downstairs to get something to eat while she could. Shelby had left a big salad and a pot of meatballs on the stove, so Sam had some of both along with a glass of water when she’d much rather have had a diet cola.
While she ate, she picked over the details of the case Josh had dropped into her lap. Though she probably should’ve technically declined to help him in light of her suspension, there were no rules she knew of that dictated personal favors outside of work. And technically, it wasn’t even an actual case, so she wasn’t violating the terms of her suspension.
Calling Lindsey might’ve crossed the line, but Lindsey’s connections with the lab would ensure a speedier turnaround than they would’ve gotten from an outside doctor. With the possibility of Director Hamilton’s involvement or culpability, she needed to do things by the book. At some point, the chain of custody on the DNA might matter, and who would care then that Sam had technically been suspended when she requested the swab?
You’re justifying yourself, baby girl. Sam smiled at the sound of Skip Holland’s voice in her head. Thinking of him made her want to talk to him, so she called down the street to see what he was up to.
“Hi, honey,” her stepmother said. “How’re you?”
“We’ve been struck by the flu over here. First Nick, then Scotty.”
“Oh no, are they okay?”
“They’re asleep for the moment, but they’ve both thrown up.”
“Poor guys. I’ll make some soup for when they feel up to eating again.”
“I’m sure they’d appreciate that it came from you rather than me.”
Celia laughed. “Probably.”
“Is Dad up for a chat?”
“He sure is. Let me get him for you.”
“What happened at the hearing?” Skip asked.
“Hello to you too.”
“Spill it.”
Sam smiled at his sauciness. She expected nothing less from him. “Suspended for four days and a thousand-dollar donation to the widows and kids.”
“That ain’t bad, all things considered.”
“I guess. I hear Forrester is considering assault charges, but I’m not worrying about that until it happens.”
“You should worry. He’s got a valid case, and you know it.”
“Maybe so, but I’d do it again. And don’t tell me I’m better than him and should’ve risen above it. I heard you the other ninety times you’ve said that.”
“It’s true.”
“I’ve got bigger fish to fry with both my guys down with the flu.”
“Aw, crap, that’s too bad. Wish I could come help you take care of them.”
“You’re far better off over there away from the germ pit. I sent Shelby home to get her out of here.”
“Probably for the best in her condition.”
“So I caught an interesting new case today. Or a potential case.”
“How’s that possible when you’re suspended?”
Sam filled him in on Josh Hamilton’s story and his connection to Director Hamilton.
Skip’s low whistle came through the phone loud and clear. “Are you shitting me?”
“Would I shit you, Skippy?”
“Holy... Sam, you gotta be so careful here—you know that, right?”
“Yes, Dad, I know that.”
“What’s your plan?”
“First step was getting the DNA. Next I’m going to call Williamson County and give them a heads-up that we have a guy who closely resembles the composite. We’ll go from there.”
“God, those poor people. Thirty years wondering where their kid is.”
“I know. It’s unimaginable. You think it’s possible Director Hamilton could’ve been part of something like this?”
“Shit, I don’t know. I only know what I’ve read about him, but he has a good reputation in law enforcement circles, as you know.”
“Yeah, Avery thinks the world of him.”
“I can’t even begin to get my head around the implications of what this guy is saying.”
“Neither can I. But the picture... The resemblance is uncanny.”
“There’s a whole lot of speculation involved in the production of those age-progression photos. Just remember that.”
“I’m operating on the presumption that Josh Hamilton is not Taylor Rollings until I have proof otherwise.”
“Good plan, but you also need a plan for what you’re going to do if he is Taylor Rollings.”
“What would you do with that info?”
“I’d go directly to Farnsworth. Don’t pass Go, don’t collect two hundred dollars. Don’t do anything but go right to him.”
“Right. I agree. That’s what I’ll do.”
“This might be the craziest thing I’ve ever heard, and I’ve heard a lot of crazy shit in my life.”
“I know—me too. Well, I’d better go make that call to Tennessee.”
“Keep me posted, baby girl, and be careful not to get yourself into another pot of hot water with the department over this.”
“I do so love a good hot bath.”
“Sam.”
“Yes, sir. I hear you. I’ll be careful.”
“Let me know how Nick and Scotty are later.”
“You got it. See ya, Skippy.”
“Bye, baby.”
Before she made the phone call to Tennessee, Sam went upstairs to look in on Scotty, resting her hand on his forehead, which was still burning hot.
He opened his eyes. “Hey.”
“How’re you feeling, honey?”
His eyes went wide all of a sudden, and Sam wondered if he was going to be sick again. “What is it?”
“I, um, that’s what my mom—my first mom—used to call me.”
“Oh, sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“No, it’s fine.” He forced a weak smile. “I like it.”
Her heart had never actually ached with love the way it regularly did for this sweet boy. She returned his smile and brushed the hair back from his forehead. “You need anything?”
“Some water maybe.”
“I’ll be right back.” She went downstairs and brought two glasses of ice water back up. Leaving Nick’s on Scotty’s bedside table, she helped her son sit up and take some sips.
“Was Harry here, or did I dream that?”
“He was here, and he said that despite how bad you feel, you’re going to live.”
“That’s good.”
Sam kissed his feverish cheek. “That’s very good.”
“How’s Dad?”
“Out cold the last time I checked.”
“I hope he’s okay.”
“He’ll be fine, and so will you.”
His eyes went wide all of a sudden. “TJ’s party! It’s tomorrow night. I have to go! Everyone is going.”
Sam hated to disappoint him, especially after all the hoops they’d had to jump through with the Secret Service to make it possible for him to attend. “Let’s see what tomorrow brings before we decide anything. You wouldn’t want your friends to get sick if you go out too soon, would you?”
“No, but...” His chin quivered ever so slightly. “I really want to go.”
“I know. Maybe you’ll feel a thousand times better by tomorrow.”
“I hope so.”
“Me too. Now get some sleep, and call me if you need anything. I’ll be close by.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Sam leaned over to kiss his cheek again before tucking the comforter in around his shoulders.
“You’re a good mom,” he said so softly she almost missed it.
Her heart skipped a beat. “Really?”
“Mmm-hmm. The best.”
“You make it easy for me.”
His eyes were closed, but his lips curved into a smile.
Taking the other glass of water with her, Sam left his door propped open so she could hear him if he called for her. She went into her room where Nick was exactly where she’d left him—curled up on his left side sound asleep. Other than their honeymoon, when they’d done nothing but eat, drink, sleep and have sex, she’d rarely seen him asleep at this hour of the day. It was unsettling to see her unstoppable husband felled by anything, let alone something as pedestrian as the flu.
At times, she’d wondered if he had superpowers that he kept secret from her. How else to explain the way he managed to get so much done while also taking excellent care of her and Scotty? Sam kissed his cheek, and even though she knew she shouldn’t, she kissed his lips too.
“Mmm, not tonight, babe.”
Sam laughed out loud.
His eyes popped open.
“I think that’s the first time you’ve ever said no to me.”
Clearing his throat, he said, “I take it back. I never say no to you.”
“You’re allowed to today. How you doing?”
“Never better.”
“Now you’re lying to me?”
“Don’t want you to worry.”
“Too late for that.”
“How’s the boy?”
“Worried about TJ’s party.”
Nick winced. “Ahh, crap. That’s tomorrow, right?”
“Yep.”
“What are the odds that we’re going to be free of this plague by then?”
“Slim to none.”
“He’ll be so disappointed.”
“We’ll make it up to him—somehow.”
“I’ve got to go make a call, and then I’ll come back and tell you a story you won’t believe.”
“’K.” His eyes were already closed, his breathing heavier, his muscles relaxing as he drifted back to sleep.
Sam went into the bedroom they now used as an office, since the Secret Service had commandeered their downstairs study. She fired up Nick’s computer, then knocked a few of his rigidly organized files out of alignment, smiling at the thought of him discovering her handiwork when he felt better. She did a search for Williamson County law enforcement, clicking on the link to the Franklin, Tennessee police department.
The age-progression photo Josh had seen online and a paragraph about the photo being released on the thirtieth anniversary of Taylor’s kidnapping appeared on the department’s home page. The write-up ended with the phone number to call with information about the case.
Sam felt unusually nervous as she placed the call. Rarely did her work cause jitters, but everything about this situation was odd—from Josh happening upon the photo on a random website to the way he’d singled her out to investigate. And then there was his connection to Director Hamilton.
“Franklin Police.”
“I’d like to speak to the detective in charge of the Taylor Rollings case, please.”
“Who’s calling?”
“Lieutenant Holland, Metro PD in Washington, D.C.”
Dead silence.
“As in the vice president’s wife?”
“As in Lieutenant Holland, Metro PD.”
“Ah, I got it. So you don’t play the VP card, huh?”
This guy was lucky Sam wasn’t his boss, or his ass would be grass and she’d be the lawn mower. “Could I please speak to the detective?”
“You sure can. Just hang on one second. And may I say it was an honor to speak to you?”
Since her head was about to explode with aggravation, she decided it would be wise to remain silent. The phone clicked to hold music that was even more annoying than the MPD’s, and that was saying something.
“Detective Watson.”
“This is Lieutenant Holland, Metro PD in Washington, D.C. Are you the detective in charge of the Taylor Rollings case?”
“I am.”
“I may have something for you.”
After a long pause, he said, “Define something.”
“A possible match for the age-progression photo you circulated. I’ve had someone make contact who believes it’s possible he may be the person you’re looking for.”
“Can you send me a picture?”
“Not yet. We’ve taken a DNA swab and will have a report for you in the next few days. If there’s a match, we’ll proceed from there. You’ll understand that he’s not interested in raising the hopes of the Rollings family without definitive proof.”
“I do understand, and that’s the last thing I want either, believe me. I appreciate the call and the heads-up. Is there anything else you can tell me about him?”
“Just one thing—his thirtieth birthday is next week, so the timing lines up. But if the DNA doesn’t match, there’ll be no point in discussing it any further.”
“I’ll be waiting to hear from you.” He shared his email address and cell phone number. “If you’d give me a call when you send it, I’d appreciate it.”
“I’ll do that. Could I ask if there’ve been any other leads resulting from the photo?”
“Lots of calls, but nothing that’s panned out. We’re following up on everything the way we always do when this case gets new attention, usually around the anniversary of the abduction.” He sounded exhausted and frustrated, which gave him tons of credibility with Sam. Most detectives she knew spent a vast majority of their careers exhausted or frustrated, often both.
“How long have you been on the case?”
“Fifteen years. The original detective literally worked himself into an early grave looking for Taylor. His wife left him, his kids stopped speaking to him and he turned to the bottle for comfort.”
Sam felt for a guy she’d never met. Sometimes the job took everything you had to give and then asked for more. “And the parents...”
“Toughest people you’ll ever meet. True salt-of-the-earth types. I don’t know how they do it, but they never give up hope. They speak of Taylor in the present tense. Micki says that until she has proof to the contrary, she believes her son is alive.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, they amaze me and everyone else who knows them.”
“I need to warn you, if this guy turns out to be their son, it’ll be the lead story on every TV station and in every newspaper in the country for the foreseeable future.”
“Why? What the hell? Who is he?”
“It’s more about who his father is.”
“I’m not going to like this, am I?”
“None of us are.”
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_c16022ce-9abf-54e3-9443-5097d38c0e63)
SAM SPENT MOST of Friday night and early Saturday morning running between her puking son and her puking husband. She was about to fall over from exhaustion when she crawled into bed next to Nick after changing the sheets on Scotty’s bed for the second time.
She’d no sooner closed her eyes when her cell phone rang. That only happened at this hour when she was on call, so she was immediately concerned about her dad. “Hello.”
“Sam.”
She groaned loudly and then regretted it when Nick stirred. Rubbing his back to settle him, she said, “What do you want, Darren?”
“I heard you were suspended for assaulting a fellow officer, and Forrester is considering charges. I wanted to give you a chance to comment before I go with it.”
How in the hell had a reporter from the Washington Star caught wind of her suspension? That was supposed to be an internal department matter, thus the term internal affairs.
“Sam?”
“No comment, other than to say if you run that I’ve been suspended when I haven’t, that might be embarrassing for you.”
“So you haven’t been suspended?”
“I’ll neither confirm nor deny. Now leave me alone. I’m sleeping.” She slapped her phone closed and put it on the bedside table. If it weren’t for her father’s precarious health, she’d turn the thing off.
“What’s that about?” Nick muttered.
“There’s a very good possibility that the headline in the Star tomorrow will be ‘Second Lady Suspended After Assaulting Fellow Officer, U.S. Attorney Forrester Considering Charges.’”
“He had it coming.”
“And that, right there, is why I love you so much.”
“Why? What’d I say?”
“You still say he had it coming even though it could turn into a firestorm for your team.”
“They get paid to put out fires. What about your staff? Should you give them a heads-up?”
“Crap, you’re right. Lilia shouldn’t hear about it on the news. I keep forgetting I have a staff.” Another thought occurred to her. “Ah damn, I never checked on Gonzo today.”
“Today is now well into tomorrow, and you need some sleep. You can check on him later and call Lilia.”
“He blew off his shift yesterday. Never does that.”
Nick reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “He’s grieving. It’s going to take a while.”
“Worried about him.”
“I know, babe. Me too.”
* * *
TOMMY GONZALES COULDN’T SLEEP. He couldn’t eat. He couldn’t breathe without pain rippling through his chest in agonizing waves. He couldn’t play with his toddler son without breaking down in tears because his late partner would never experience the exquisite joy of fatherhood. He couldn’t bear the touch of his fiancée while knowing that Arnold would never drop to one knee and propose to the love of his life.
The only relief Gonzo got from the unrelenting pain was found in a bottle of whiskey. He and Jameson had become very close friends since the dreadful night in January when his partner had been gunned down.
If you shut the fuck up, I’ll let you take the lead.
Those words would haunt him for the rest of his life. Of course, if he hadn’t let Arnold take the lead that night, Gonzo would be dead. His son would be fatherless, and his fiancée bereft. The thought of those scenarios was only slightly less agonizing than the loss of Arnold had been. He didn’t like to think of Alex or Christina grieving him, but he’d almost rather be dead himself than have to live with the way his partner had died.
The gurgling sound of blood in Arnold’s throat gave Gonzo nightmares in the rare instances when he actually slept. In a career filled with things he’d much rather forget than remember, it was the single worst sound Gonzo had ever heard, the sound of life leaving his partner, one desperate gasp at a time.
He shuddered, thinking of it now and reached for the bottle that was never far from his grasp. The whiskey burned on the way down, his empty stomach protesting its arrival. Powering through the gut pain, he took another gulp, looking for the sweet oblivion he only found at the bottom of a bottle.
It was almost five now, and he had to work at seven. He’d missed his shift yesterday. That was a first. Under normal circumstances, he’d be freaking out about screwing up at work. Under these circumstances, he couldn’t find the wherewithal to give a shit about his fucking nightmare of a job. He could no longer remember what he’d ever loved about it.
In what other career could you be gunned down on a sidewalk simply because you carry a badge? In what other career did you risk your life every day for people who didn’t give a shit about you?
These days, cops were viewed as the enemy because of a few bad ones who couldn’t control themselves. Did anyone other than his family and friends and colleagues in blue even care that a young man named Arnold John “AJ” Arnold had been gunned down on a sidewalk simply because he’d approached a suspect on a cold, dark night?
Life had gone on for everyone else. Six weeks later, it was like it never happened for the rest of the world. Despite his best efforts to carry on, to be brave and strong for the people who were counting on him at home and at work, Gonzo could still hear the echo of the gunshots, smell the blood, taste the fear and panic of knowing there was nothing he could do. He could still hear that god-awful gurgling noise.
Gonzo had about twenty—or maybe it was thirty—unanswered calls from the department shrink, reminding him he needed to make his next appointment. Like the last time Gonzo had seen him, Trulo would make him talk about it when that was the last freaking thing he wanted to do. How in the hell would that help anything? Let’s tear the scab off the wound and poke a sharp stick in it because that’ll surely make everything better. So he was avoiding Trulo and all the other do-gooders who wanted to “help.” As if there was anything anyone could do.
“Tommy.” Christina’s soft voice jarred him. He hadn’t seen her coming. His reflexes weren’t what they used to be if she could sneak up on him in the dark.
“What?”
“Are you coming to bed?”
“No.” It wasn’t her fault. None of this was her fault. He told himself that a thousand times a day as she hovered over him, her care and concern wearing on his already-frazzled nerves. It was hard to believe that only a few short weeks ago, they’d been talking about making time to get married. And now he wanted to tell her to leave him alone. He wished everyone would just leave him the hell alone. But they didn’t. In addition to Christina, he had his family and colleagues around his neck too.
If Cruz called him one more time to “check in” he was going to tell him to fuck off. What did they want from him anyway?
“Will you please come to bed? You need to sleep.”
“No, I don’t need to sleep.” Sleep brought nightmares, and the last fucking thing he wanted was to relive it—again. “I need to be alone.” On the outer edges of his mind, in the place where the man he used to be lived, he knew he was making an extraordinary mess of the most precious relationship in his life. But he couldn’t bring himself to care.
Christina knelt on the floor in front of him, her hands flat against his thighs. There’d been a time, not that long ago, when that would’ve been enough to fire him up. Now he felt nothing for her or his son or his family or his friends. He felt absolutely nothing but pain.
“You’re scaring me, Tommy. You can’t go on this way. You need help. You have to let us help you.”
“I don’t have to do anything. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I can’t possibly know what you went through that night, but the Tommy I know and love—”
“Is dead. That guy died on a sidewalk right along with his partner. So if you don’t like the new and improved Tommy, maybe you should cut your losses and get out.”
Her face went slack with shock, tears flooding her eyes. “You don’t mean that.”
“Maybe I do.”
“Tommy...”
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be. We had a good thing, but it’s over now.”
“You... Alex...”
“Take him. Take him and just go. Leave me alone.”
“I’m not leaving you, Tommy,” she said as sobs shook her petite body.
Once upon a time, her tears would’ve moved him. “Then I’ll go.”
“No. You’re not going, and neither am I. We’re a family, and if you won’t fight for our family then I will.”
“Knock yourself out.” He reached for the bottle.
She grabbed it from his hand, and it went flying, smashing into the glass coffee table and shattering it.
The sight of her surrounded by shards of glass cleared the fog in his brain, making way for a moment of clarity. “Don’t move.”
As tears continued to rain down her face, she whimpered.
Standing, he reached for her and lifted her up and off the floor.
Christina wrapped her arms around his neck and curled her legs around his hips. She trembled violently, her tears wetting his face.
“You’re okay. I’ve got you.” His heart beat fast and hard as fear sliced through the numbness.
“Please don’t let me go, Tommy.” Her chest heaved from the strength of her sobs. “I’d never survive it.”
He tightened his hold on her, blinking rapidly to stop tears that suddenly couldn’t be contained. His chest ached as the dam broke, flooding him with a barrage of emotions he was unequipped to handle. Fear and grief and love and despair... All of it poured forth as Christina clung to him. He’d never cried like this before. Not when his grandparents died or when he found out he had a son he didn’t know about or when Arnold was killed right in front of him.
Something about the sight of Christina surrounded by broken glass had done what nothing else could. It had broken him. Leaning against a wall, he slid down, taking her with him, until they were on the floor. She never let go, holding him through the storm the way she had from the beginning.
He had no idea how long they were there before he found his voice. “I... I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things. I didn’t mean—”
Cradling his face in her hands, she kissed him and wiped away his tears. “We need help, Tommy. We can’t do this alone. Please. Before we lose us...”
He hesitated but only for a second. “Okay.”
* * *
SAM SHOT OUT of bed, going from asleep to running in the blink of an eye when she heard Scotty cry out. Fearing another vomit-astrophe, she steeled herself as she turned the corner in his room and found him sitting up in bed, weeping.
“Buddy, what’s wrong? Are you feeling sick again?”
She’d never seen him cry like this, as if his heart were breaking. Sam sat on the bed and wrapped her arms around him. The heat from his body radiated through the thin T-shirt he wore, but he didn’t feel quite as hot as he had during the night.
“I still feel awful,” he said between sobs. “I can’t go to the party.”
“I’m so sorry, and so is Dad. We know how disappointed you are.” And she knew that under normal circumstances, Scotty would never cry over such a thing. “But Dad said last night—and it’s true—there’ll be lots and lots of chances to have fun with your friends and lots of other parties.”
“I wanted to go to this one.”
“I know.” Desperate to find a way to comfort him, she settled him back on his pillow. “How about we have our own little party right here? We’ll watch whatever movie you want and play video games.”
His shoulders lifted ever so slightly.
She was no substitute for his friends, but she’d do whatever she could to fill the void. “You want to get up and try to eat something?”
He shook his head. “No, thanks. Not yet.”
“Let me know when you’re ready.” She tucked him in and kissed his forehead.
“Thanks,” he said, “for taking care of me and stuff.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
“Sure,” he said with the tiniest hint of a smile. “Cleaning up puke is a pleasure.”
“Being your mom is a pleasure. The good, the bad and the ugly. I love it all.”
“Something’s wrong with you if you like the ugly.”
“I hear that every day.” She left him with a smile and went back to her room, crawling in bed next to Nick, who hadn’t stirred. When she placed a hand on his back, the heat of his body alarmed her. She felt his forehead and launched out of bed to find the thermometer Harry had left for her. Running it over his forehead, she gasped when it registered at 104.5. Dear God!
“Nick.” She shook his shoulder. “Babe, wake up. You’ve got to take something for the fever.” Kissing his cheek, she said, “Nick, wake up.” He didn’t respond, even when she shook him vigorously.
Frantic, Sam grabbed her phone from the bedside table and called Harry. “Nick is at 104.5, and he won’t wake up,” she said the second Harry answered.
“Call 911. Right now. I’ll meet you at GW.”
“I can’t leave Scotty with only his detail!”
“Call Tracy to stay with him.”
“Okay. I’ll do that. Harry—”
“Make the call, Sam.”
Her hands shook as she called 911 and requested an ambulance. In the hallway, she said to Darcy, “I called rescue for Nick. He’s unresponsive.”
“Oh my God! I’ll let them know downstairs.”
After nearly dropping the phone in her haste, Sam found Tracy’s number and willed her sister to answer the phone. “Trace! I need you to come over here. Hurry. Nick and Scotty are sick, and I have to take Nick to GW—”
“What? Okay, I’m coming. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“You have to stay with Scotty.” Her voice broke and tears flooded her eyes. “I can’t wake him up, Trace. Nick. He won’t wake up.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Sam went to Nick and shook him again, looking for something, anything. “Please,” she whispered. “Wake up.”
But like before, he didn’t move.
She laid her hand on his chest where the strong beat of his heart was the best thing she’d ever felt. Then she noted the rise and fall of his breathing. Those were good signs, weren’t they?
It seemed to take hours for the paramedics to arrive when it was probably only minutes. Everything moved very quickly. They had him on an IV and strapped to a gurney in a matter of seconds and were whisking him out of the house, escorted by the Secret Service.
Sam was torn in two very distinct directions—go with Nick or stay with Scotty until Tracy arrived. She looked in on Scotty, who’d gone back to sleep. The fact that he was sleeping through this cemented her decision.
“My sister Tracy is coming to stay with him,” Sam said to Darcy. “If he wakes up before she gets here, tell him I took his dad to see Harry. Don’t say anything about ambulances or paramedics.”
“Of course. I hope the vice president is okay.”
“So do I.”
Sam ran out of the house without a coat and bolted down the ramp to the back of the ambulance. The sight of Nick, unmoving and strapped to a gurney, his face ghostly pale, made Sam stagger under the weight of her fear. Thankfully, Brant took hold of her arm and helped her into the ambulance before she tripped and fell.
“Why won’t he wake up?” she asked the paramedics when they were on their way to GW.
“We think he’s severely dehydrated. We’re pumping fluid into him, which ought to help.”
Dehydrated. She could work with that.
“But he’s going to be okay, right?”
“He should be.”
Sam clung to those three little words on the rapid trip to the hospital, where he was taken straight into an exam room. One of the nurses put an arm around Sam’s shoulders and guided her out of the room. “Let me find a place for you to wait where you won’t be bothered, Mrs. Cappuano.”
“I want to be with him.”
“Give us a chance to get him stable, and we’ll get you right in with him.”
“He’s not stable now?”
“We’re still assessing his condition. It’ll be a few minutes.”
Harry came rushing in, and Sam had never been so happy to see anyone in her life.
“They’re telling me I can’t stay with him.”
“I’ll get you in there as soon as I can.” He gave her a quick hug. “Go with Nancy. She’ll get you settled somewhere to wait.”
“Harry, please... Please.”
“He’s going to be fine. I promise.”
Those were, without any doubt, among the best words she’d ever heard. While Brant and another member of Nick’s detail stood watch outside the exam room, Sam let Nancy lead her to a private waiting room. She wanted to ask why the agents could stay but she couldn’t, but she already knew the answer to that.
“Is there someone you could call to come sit with you?” Nancy asked.
The only person Sam wanted was Nick. “I, um, I could call my sister.”
“Would you like me to do it for you?”
Angela would freak out if she got a call from a nurse at the GW Emergency Room. “Thank you, but I’ll do it.”
“Is there anything I can get you? Water, coffee?”
“A stiff drink?” Sam said with a small smile.
“Wish that was on the menu.”
“I’m fine, thank you. Please let me know the second you hear anything.”
“We will. I just want to say... All of us here, we think you and the vice president make for a beautiful couple, and we admire you both so much.”
Sam blinked rapidly, overcome with emotion. “Thank you. That’s very nice of you.”
“He’s young and strong and healthy. Have faith in all those things.”
Sam nodded because she didn’t trust herself to speak.
Nancy left her alone, and Sam took a moment to get herself together before she called Ang.
“Hey, what’s up? I was going to call you later.”
“Ang.”
“What? What’s wrong?”
“Can you come to the GW ER? Please? Nick is here, and he’s really sick. I don’t know what’s wrong with him—”
“I’ll be there. Hang tight.”
“Thank you.” Thank God for her sisters, Sam thought. They always came running when she needed them. Her phone dinged with a text from Tracy saying she was at Sam’s house, and Scotty was still sleeping.
Let me know when you hear anything about Nick.
I will. Harry is with him now.
He’s in very good hands.
Sam tried to take comfort in that, in knowing Harry cared about him as much as anyone did, anyone other than her, that is. No one cared more about Nick than she did. She couldn’t sit still. She paced from one end of the small room to the other, worried about Nick, worried about Scotty waking up to Tracy rather than her. If anything happened to Nick...
That thought had her dropping into a chair because her legs were too wobbly to support her. If this was what he went through every time she walked out the door to go to work or got herself into a jam on the job, it was a wonder he could function.
Her phone rang and she took a call from Nick’s dad. “Hi, Leo.”
“Hey, Sam, I tried to reach Nick, but his phone goes right to voicemail. I know how busy he is, so I figured I’d call you about coming up for dinner this weekend.”
“Oh, um, he’s sick, Leo. He’s got the flu. In fact, I’m at the GW ER with him right now. They think he’s severely dehydrated.”
“Oh no! I just talked to him yesterday.”
“It came on him and Scotty out of nowhere.”
“Should I come down?”
“I don’t think you need to,” she said with more confidence than she felt. “They said he’s going to be fine, and I can keep you posted. No sense exposing you or Stacy and the kids to what they’ve got.”
“If you’re sure...”
“I’ll tell him you called, and I’ll text you.”
“Tell him...” Leo hesitated, but only for a second. “Tell him I love him.”
“I’ll do that.” She wiped tears from her eyes. Under normal circumstances, tears pissed her off. Today she couldn’t care less about them.
Angela arrived twenty minutes after Sam called her. Wearing yoga pants and a sweatshirt without a coat, she rushed into Sam’s outstretched arms.
“Thank you so much for coming.”
“How is he?”
“I haven’t heard anything since I talked to you. I’m losing my mind.”
“So what happened?”
Sam relayed the story of how Nick and Scotty had come home sick the day before, and while Scotty seemed a tad bit better after a rough night, Nick was worse. “I couldn’t get him to wake up, Ang. I’ve never been so scared in my life.” Even when she’d been at Stahl’s mercy in that basement, she hadn’t been nearly as frightened as when she couldn’t rouse Nick. Being scared for herself was a whole lot different than being scared for him.
CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_e39b4537-6c73-58ee-bf8f-b26ece1f163a)
TIME SLOWED TO a crawl. Sam experienced every minute as if it were an hour. Her heart ached with worry and fear and the agony of being separated from him when he needed her. If the roles had been reversed, he’d be raging at anyone who tried to keep him away from her. She headed to the door to start raging, and nearly ran into Harry.
“How is he?”
“He’s conscious but badly dehydrated and a little confused due to the dehydration. We’re pumping him full of fluid, and he should be much better in a couple of hours.”
The flood of relief was so profound that Sam ended up in Harry’s arms sobbing.
He held her until she got it all out.
“Sorry,” she said, embarrassed by her meltdown.
“Don’t be. I was pretty freaked out myself when you said he was unresponsive.”
“Glad it wasn’t just me.”
“It definitely wasn’t just you. You want to see him?”
“Yeah.” The understatement of a lifetime.
“Come on.” He gestured for Angela to join them as they walked through the ER to Nick’s room, where Brant and one of the other agents, whose name escaped her at the moment, were standing watch.
“Good to hear he’s doing better,” Brant said.
Sam nodded in agreement. In the room, a nurse typed on a computer. Nick was asleep, and when she looked extra close, she saw a tad bit more color in his cheeks than he’d had earlier.
Her cell phone rang, but she ignored it to go to him, to run her hand over his face, to brush the hair back from his forehead so she could kiss him there. “How’s his fever?” she asked the nurse.
“It was down to 102.5 the last time we checked it. He’s getting something for that in the IV.”
“Good, that’s really good.”
“He’ll be fine,” the nurse said. “It’s just going to take a day or two.”
Sam’s phone rang again, and since Nick was sound asleep, she looked at the caller ID. Terry O’Connor. She took the call from Nick’s chief of staff. “Hi, Terry.”
“What’s going on? I heard from the Secret Service that he’s in the hospital.”
Sam filled him in on what’d happened.
“Jesus. I was with him when it came on yesterday. Never seen anyone go down that hard or that fast. Scared the shit out of me and everyone else around here.”
“Scared me too. I’ve never seen him with a cold, let alone something like this.”
“The press is going crazy wanting to know what’s wrong with him. What would you like me to tell them?”
“Do we have to say anything?”
“I’d recommend we give them a little something to stop the feeding frenzy. I saw one comment online that people are speculating he was poisoned.”
Sam’s stomach dropped. “For real?”
“Afraid so.”
“Hang on a second.”
To Harry, she said, “Terry wants to say something to the press about what’s going on. How would you describe it?”
“A nasty bout of the flu.”
Sam relayed the information to Terry and gave him the green light to tell the press the vice president had been hospitalized due to the flu.
“Got it,” Terry said. “I’ll take care of it. What else can I do? Anything for you or Scotty?”
“Scotty has it too, and my sister Tracy is with him. I think we’re set, but I’ll let you know later how he is.”
“Please do. Tell him we’re thinking of him.”
“I will.”
“I suppose I probably ought to clear his schedule for the next few days.”
“Make it the next week.”
“Okay, will do.” He paused and then said, “Before I let you go, I should mention I talked to Christina, and she said Tommy isn’t doing well at all. I thought you might like to know.”
Sam closed her eyes and took a deep breath, ashamed to realize she’d forgotten all about Gonzo and getting in touch with him in the madness of the last twenty-four hours. “You’re right. I do want to know. I’ll reach out to him later today.”
“Sounds good. Take care, Sam, and let me know how Nick is.”
“I will.” She stashed the phone in her pocket and took hold of Nick’s overly warm hand, bending her head over his chest when the tears started up again.
Angela squeezed her shoulders.
“You don’t have to stay, Ang,” Sam said. “You must’ve had other plans today.”
“I don’t mind staying. Spence is with the kids, and they’ll make him appreciate and worship me, so it’s all good.”
Sam wouldn’t have thought she could laugh right then, but Angela proved her wrong. Then she was crying again, her head propped on Nick’s hand. Her cell phone rang, and Angela took it from her to answer it. Sam heard her sister talking, but couldn’t bother to care who she was talking to.
“Hey, Sam, Freddie really needs to talk to you. I told him where we are and what’s going on. He said it’s urgent.”
Sam took a deep breath, wiped away her tears and stood to take the phone from her sister. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Angela told me about Nick. I hope he’s okay.”
“He will be. What’s going on?”
“Director Hamilton is calling Josh every fifteen minutes like clockwork.”
“Since when?”
“Early this morning. Josh says he’s called him more today than in the last five years combined.”
“Shit, he’s probably tracking the phone by now so he knows where Josh is.” Sam’s brain was so muddled with worries about Nick that it was hard to think about anything else. “Get him out of there right away. Move to another hotel outside the city and have him power down the phone. Tell him to let work know he’s got an emergency to contend with and won’t be in this week. Don’t let him make any contact with the outside world until we say otherwise.”
“What do I do with him when I have to go to work?”
“Leave him locked in the room and tell him he has to stay off the radar until we know what’s going on. The fact that his father is looking for him has me thinking he knows about the photo. If they had anything to do with taking him, that photo will send them into a panic. If they panic, they may do something stupid that might involve him getting killed. You see where I’m going with this?”
“Yeah, I do, and I don’t like it, Sam. This has the potential to blow up like a nuclear bomb in our faces, and frankly, after recent events, neither of us can afford that.”
He was right. She knew he was right, but what was she supposed to do? As if she’d conjured him, she heard her father’s voice in her head. Go to Farnsworth. Go directly to Farnsworth.
Sam blew out a deep breath. “Listen, if you don’t want to be involved, I understand. Let me know where you stash him, and I’ll take it from there.”
“I didn’t say I don’t want to be involved. I merely mentioned the potential for nuclear-level fallout.”
“I’ll take it to Farnsworth and turn it over to the department.”
“Um, before you do that, you should know that Josh told me last night that if anyone but you—and me by extension of you—is involved, he’s going to disappear. He seems really agitated since his father started calling. So you might want to hold off on involving the department.”
“Rock, meet hard place.” Sam glanced at Nick, who was still sleeping. She rarely found herself at a loss for what to do in any given situation, but this was a tough one. She was torn between what she should do to look out for herself—and now her partner too—and what was best for Josh. “What do we do?”
“My better judgment is saying go to Farnsworth, but if Josh bolts, this could get really complicated, especially when it comes out that we had him in custody.”
“Shit, fuck, damn, hell.”
“What you said.”
Sam was well aware that Freddie would take his lead from her, even if it meant venturing into murky gray area. “Get him settled somewhere else and then punch out of this situation. I’ll take it from here.” As she said the words, she didn’t have a plan beyond getting through the next hour with Nick. She’d figure something out for Josh. She always did.
“I don’t want to punch out. I’m in it for better or worse at this point. I’ll do some digging and see if I can get anything useful from him.”
“I can’t protect you if this goes nuclear.”
“I don’t expect you to.”
“If you’re going to dig, dig carefully.”
“Don’t worry. I will. I’ll let you know if I get anything, and I’ll shoot you a text about where Josh is. Keep me posted about how Nick is doing?”
“Yeah, I will, and thanks.”
“No problem.”
Though he said it was no problem, this situation could turn into a huge problem for both of them unless they managed it carefully. But what was she supposed to do at this juncture? Go to her brass with the possibility that FBI Director Hamilton’s son could or could not be a child kidnapped from a family in Tennessee thirty years ago? She was already on thin ice with the department. If she opened that can of worms only to find out it wasn’t true, what then? And if Josh found out she’d taken his claims to the department, he’d bolt.
“What the hell is going on?” Angela asked when Sam had stashed the phone in her back pocket.
“A really weird new case.”
“I thought you were suspended.”
“Heard about that, huh?”
“Everyone knows. It was in the paper this morning.”
“Ugh, goddamned Darren.”
“It wasn’t just him. It was all over the place—in the papers, on TV, talk radio.”
“Great.” Her phone rang and she removed it from her pocket to check the caller ID. Her White House chief of staff, Lilia Van Nostrand’s name showed on the screen. Since Nick was still asleep, Sam took the call. “Hi, Lilia.”
“I just heard about the vice president. Is he all right? Are you?”
“He’s been felled by a nasty bout of the flu. I’m told he’s going to be fine. My nerves are shot, but otherwise, I’m okay.”
“Oh, thank goodness! I couldn’t believe what they were saying on the news about him being transported by ambulance to GW.”
“Jeez, nothing gets by the Washington press corps, huh?”
“No, and that’s the other reason for my call.”
“I heard my name is above the fold today.”
“It is, and I’m wondering how you wish to handle it.”
“Why do I have to handle it?”
“We’re getting slammed with requests for statements, as is the vice president’s office.”
“I spoke to Terry a few minutes ago, and he didn’t mention it.”
“Probably because he’s concerned for the vice president’s health at the moment, as am I. We wouldn’t want you to think our priorities lie anywhere other than with both of you.”
“I understand, and I appreciate the fact that you’re being slammed. You could say that the second lady has no comment on the suspension, which is an internal MPD matter.”
“How about the fact that U.S. Attorney Forrester is considering assault charges?”
“You can get a statement from him about that. If or when it happens, I’ll have no choice but to deal with it. Until that time, it’s speculation, and I don’t comment on speculation.”
“Can we say that in the statement?”
“Sure, knock yourselves out.”
“I’ll have Andrea put something together for you,” Lilia said of Sam’s communications director. “We’ll run it by you before we release it.”
“No need. I trust you guys to handle it.”
“We’ll take care of it, then. If you have a chance later, let me know how the vice president is doing—and how you’re doing.”
“I will. Thank you, Lilia.”
“Anytime.”
“I still can’t believe you have a chief of staff at the White House,” Angela said as Harry returned to the room to check on Nick.
“Can you imagine being her chief of staff?” Harry asked. “I need to meet this saint of a woman.”
“Bite me,” Sam said, though she was relieved he was making jokes. That must mean Nick’s situation wasn’t as dire as it had seemed for a while there.
“Who’s she biting now?” Nick muttered.
CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_438fd514-802c-53c7-bc88-b76704ce8725)
SAM HAD NEVER been so relieved to hear him speak. She sat on the edge of the bed and ran her hand over his face. “Only you, babe.”
“Better be only me.” His eyes opened slowly, and his brows knitted as he took in the room. “What the hell?”
She glanced at Harry before she filled Nick in on where he was and why. “You wouldn’t wake up. Scared the living hell out of me.”
“And me,” Harry said. “I was afraid she’d sue me for saying you’d be fine in a couple of days.”
“Andy has agreed to take my case pro bono,” Sam said, smiling at Nick.
“That traitor,” Harry said of his and Nick’s mutual friend.
“Scotty,” Nick said in a low rumble.
“Is home with Tracy and doing better than you are.”
“That’s a relief. When can I get out of here?”
“Probably tomorrow or the next day,” Harry said.
“Aw, come on,” Nick said, groaning. “I feel a lot better. Let me go home.”
“Dude, you were out cold an hour ago,” Harry said. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Sam pointed a thumb at Harry. “What he said.”
As if it was too much effort to keep them open, Nick closed his eyes. “Thought you guys were my friends.”
Sam leaned forward to kiss him. “We’re your best friends.”
“You might want to cut out the kissing unless you want what he’s got,” Harry said.
“Too late to worry about that.”
Nick’s arms came around her, keeping her right where she wanted to be—close to him.
“They’re hopeless,” Harry said to Angela.
“They certainly are. We’ll remind her of this when she’s barfing her guts out in a couple of days.”
“Worth it,” Sam said.
Nick tightened his hold on her and for the first time since he wouldn’t wake up earlier, she was able to take a deep breath. He was okay, and that was all that mattered.
* * *
HOURS LATER, NICK ordered Sam and Angela to go get something to eat. They’d talked to Scotty by FaceTime on Angela’s phone so he could see that Nick was doing better and they could see that he was fine. Tracy had gotten him to eat some of the soup Celia sent over, and he’d even asked for ice cream.
Nick, on the other hand, wasn’t interested in food of any kind yet. “You guys go grab something. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Are you sure?” Sam messed with his blankets until she was happy with the way they covered him. They’d fielded another call from his dad, as well as Graham and Laine O’Connor. Nick’s adopted parents were also concerned about him.
He put his hand over hers. “I’m sure.”
“Come on,” Angela said, tugging Sam’s arm. “I’m starving.”
She’d kept them entertained with the increasingly desperate texts she’d received from Spencer as the day progressed. The kids were making a man out of him, or so Angela said.
They went to the cafeteria where Sam forced herself to choke down a turkey club even though she didn’t really want it. Angela said she’d be no good to anyone if she didn’t take care of herself. In deference to the day from hell, Sam indulged in a rare diet cola. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
“Best thing I ever tasted,” she said of the icy-cold soda.
“So I was going to call you today about something else.”
“What’s up?”
Angela dipped a French fry into ketchup and popped it into her mouth. “Mom’s in town and she wants to see you.”
Sam shook her head from the word town on. “Not now.”
“I think you need to see her. She has some news you should hear from her.”
“What kind of news?”
Angela shook her head. “It’s not mine to tell.”
“Seriously?”
“You know I would if I could.”
Sam blew out a deep breath. “This is just what I need right now with all the other crap I’ve got going on.”
“What was that thing with Freddie earlier?”
“Something for work that fell into my lap after I was suspended.”
“Is it something that’s going to get you into deeper shit than you’re already in?”
“Perhaps, but it could be such a huge big deal that no one will care about my role in it.”
“I know you’ve got a lot going on, but you need to see her. I wouldn’t ask you to if it wasn’t important.”
“Does Tracy know about this too?”
“Yes.”
“Great, so everyone knows but me.”
“That’s the way you wanted it when you cut Mom out of your life, Sam. We chose not to go that far. What do you want me to say?”
Her mother had left Skip for another man the day after Sam, their youngest child, graduated from high school. Sam had sided with her dad, and she’d do the same thing again if she had it to do over. Lately, however, especially after what’d happened with Stahl, she’d been thinking it might be time for a ceasefire with her mother. She’d yet to follow through on those thoughts, but Angela had presented her with a golden opportunity.
“How long is she in town?”
“The rest of the week.”
“Set something up for a couple of days from now. Let me get my guys out of the woods first.”
“I’ll take care of it and let you know.”
During fifteen years on the job, Sam had had her share of scrapes and close calls, but nothing like what her ex-colleague had put her through in the basement of Marissa Springer’s home. The incident had served as a wake-up call that life is short and grudges are pointless.
Though she’d probably never again be close to her mother, it was time to put down her sword and allow her mother back into her life. Having Scotty’s adoption finalized was another good reason to bridge the chasm with her mother. He had asked a few times about her mom, and his curiosity had cemented her resolve to make a move—eventually. She hadn’t expected to make that move today.
Nick was sleeping when they returned to his room, so Angela offered to stay with him while Sam took Angela’s car home to check on Scotty.
“He fell asleep about twenty minutes ago,” Tracy whispered when Sam came in to find Scotty sleeping next to Tracy on the sofa. Tracy ran her fingers through Scotty’s hair as he slept, and the sight of her sister tending to her son made Sam weepy again. Enough with the waterworks today!
Sam rested a hand on his forehead, which was cool. “Thank you so much for staying with him.”
“He’s a pleasure to be with, and he was so glad when you guys called earlier and he could see for himself that Nick is fine. That helped to take some of the sting out of missing his friend’s party.”
Sam bent over to kiss Scotty’s cheek. “What a long, crazy day.”
“Nick’s doing better?”
Sam sat in one of the upholstered chairs. “Yeah, he’s pissed that Harry is making him stay the night. I hope they let him out tomorrow, or he’ll be beside himself.”
“Now you know what we deal with anytime you’re injured.”
Sam stuck her tongue out at her sister. “So, Ang told me something’s up with Mom.”
“I wondered if she would mention that.”
“Is it bad?”
“It’s not good news, but it could be worse. She really wants to see you, Sam.”
“I know. Ang is going to set it up.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, it’s time.”
“I’m so glad to hear you say that.”
“Do you want to go home? I can take over from here.”
“I figured you’d want to be with Nick at the hospital. I had Mike bring me a bag so I could stay with Scotty.”
“I’m not sure where I belong right now. I’ve never felt so divided.”
“Welcome to motherhood,” Tracy said, smiling. “Scotty is fine with me, and you want to be with Nick, so go. We’ve got it covered here.”
“You must’ve had plans for this weekend.”
“Nothing that couldn’t be shifted around.”
“Thank you. You and Angela are the best. Always there when I need you.”
“Right back at you. I’ll never be able to pay you back for everything you did for Brooke last year.”
“I was just doing my job.”
“You did way more than your job, and we both know it.”
“All that matters is that she’s doing great and finishing up her senior year and going to college.”
“UVA of all places,” Tracy said. “I’m so proud of her.”
“We all are. I’m going to grab a quick shower and change before I head back to the hospital. But first, let’s get my big boy up to bed.”
They woke Scotty, who brightened at the sight of Sam. “How’s Dad?”
“He’s cranky about being in the hospital.”
“That’s good. That means he’s fine.”
“I’m going to tuck you in and head back to be with him. Tracy will spend the night, okay?”
“Sure, you should be with him.”
“I should be with both of you.”
“Until we clone you, that’s not possible.”
“Dear God,” Tracy said, shuddering dramatically, “do not clone her. One of her is more than enough.”
“No kidding,” Scotty said.
“Hey, I’m in the room,” Sam said, while hiding her pleasure at her son’s teasing. She much preferred that to the tears of the night before.
He was still weak and droopy, so they helped him into pajamas and got him tucked into bed.
“I’ll see you in the morning, buddy.”
“Will Dad get to come home tomorrow?”
“I fear for Harry’s safety if he doesn’t spring him.”
“I hope he gets to come home.”
Sam leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Me too. Get some sleep and don’t worry about anything. He’s fine.”
His eyes closed. “It’s hard.”
“What is?”
“When you care more about someone else than you do about yourself. It’s hard when something happens to them.”
Sam had to swallow the huge lump in her throat before she could reply. “Yes, it is.” She kissed him again and left him to sleep. After a quick shower and a change into yoga pants and a sweatshirt, she was on her way back to GW to spend the night with Nick.
She sent Angela home to Spencer, who had gotten both kids into bed and raised the white flag on the day. He’d sent a hilarious selfie with a six-pack of beer sitting next to him on the sofa.
“He’s getting so lucky tonight,” Angela said after sharing his comical texts with Sam.
“He got lucky the day you said yes to him.”
“Remember that night when I went to meet him? The night you met Nick for the first time?”
“I remember that night like it was yesterday.”
“Funny how that was such an important night for both of us. I think all the time about how Spence might’ve gotten away while I was busy mourning my relationship with Johnny the douche bag. And you having to put up with all that crap with Peter to get to what you have now with Nick...”
“I don’t like to even think about him.”
“He’s been quiet lately.”
“Ever since his ‘suicide’ attempt you mean?” Sam made air quotes around the word suicide.
“He must’ve been so disappointed when you didn’t come running.”
“Whatever. Those days are long over.”
“Better be,” Nick said.
“He is such an eavesdropper,” Angela said, laughing.
Sam gave her a hug and sent her on her way. “You really are a terrible eavesdropper,” Sam said to Nick when they were alone.
“Come here.”
“I’m here.”
“All the way.” Without opening his eyes, he held out his arms to her, and she crawled into bed with him.
“There. Much better.”
“You do seem much better.”
“I’m outta here in the morning. I don’t care what Harry says.”
“You’ll do what you’re told, which is what you always say to me when I’m in this place.”
“Hate when my own words come back to haunt me. How’s Scotty?”
“Feeling much better and worried about you. He said it’s hard when you care about someone else more than you care about yourself.”
“Did he now.” Nick sighed. “Wow.”
“I knew that would get to you.”
“Right here.” He rubbed his chest. “Now, how about you fill me in on what happened yesterday? It was only yesterday, right?”
“Yeah, it was. Feels like a lifetime ago, though.” She told him about the results of the IAB hearing, Josh Hamilton and what he’d uncovered on the Internet.
“So he just happened to see an age-progression photo that was of him? What’re the odds of that?”
“Astronomical.”
“Imagine seeing one of those photos, and it’s you. Jesus.”
“You haven’t even heard the real kicker yet. Guess who his father is?”
“Who?”
“Troy Hamilton.”
“As in the FBI director Troy Hamilton?”
“One and the same.”
“Holy shit. Sam, seriously... Are you kidding me right now?”
“Would I do that?”
“What’s your plan?”
“To keep him alive while we wait for DNA proof that he’s Taylor Rollings.”
“So you think he is?”
“I think he could be. The resemblance to the photo is uncanny. It’s like someone drew a picture of him and posted it. His thirtieth birthday is next week, so the timing works. And according to Freddie, who I’ve got babysitting him, his father has been calling every fifteen minutes, which is more than he’s called his son in the last five years.”
“So Hamilton knows about the photo—and he knows that Josh knows.”
“Yeah, that’s the theory. How well do you know Hamilton?”
“Not very well. From what I’ve seen at hearings on the Hill and in a few meetings at the White House, he’s a cool customer with an ego the size of Texas.”
“It’s well earned. He’s a legend in law enforcement circles.”
“And in his own mind.”
“So you don’t like him.”
“I don’t know him well enough not to like him, but something about him is off-putting. Can’t put my finger on it.”
“You think he’d be capable of kidnapping someone’s child and taking him home to raise as his own?”
“Hell if I know. I can’t imagine how anyone would be capable of such a thing. Those poor people. They’ve been through hell for thirty years. It sure would be something if you could give them some peace.”
“If Josh turns out to be Taylor, I fear that peace will be the least of what I’m giving them, and the frustrating part is that there’s not a damned thing we can do from an investigative perspective until the DNA comes back.”
“You could look into where Hamilton and his wife were the day Taylor went missing.”
“How can I do that without bringing down the wrath of Hamilton on me and the department?”
“Carefully.”
Sam could hear how tired he was in the way he said that one word. “You need to sleep now. We’ll talk more about this tomorrow.”
He didn’t protest, which was unlike him, especially since he had such a complicated relationship with sleep. His insomnia had been awful since he became vice president, which was one of many challenges they’d faced after he accepted the president’s offer to replace the ailing Joe Gooding.
“Thanks for waking up earlier,” she whispered.
His hand moved in small circles on her back. “Sorry I scared you.”
“You really did. Sorry for all the times I’ve scared you.”
“Love you, baby.”
“Love you too. So much.” If anything ever happened to him... No, she couldn’t think about that or she’d go mad. There were two agents stationed right outside the door to ensure that nothing happened to him. But they hadn’t been able to prevent severe dehydration. Her stomach ached from the fear of the many things that could happen to someone she loved that no one could prevent.
“Stop,” he whispered. “I can feel you spinning. Everything is fine. I promise.”
Sam took a deep breath, closed her eyes and carried his assurances to sleep with her.
CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_5661000e-0e4c-5657-84aa-e15eacee2067)
NICK WAS RELEASED from the hospital the next afternoon. With the hospital surrounded by photographers hoping for a glimpse of the ailing vice president, the Secret Service arranged for him to be released through a loading dock.
“I’ve been officially reduced to cargo,” he said when they were settled in the back of one of the big black SUVs.
Sam took hold of his hand. “Precious cargo.” Though he looked a thousand times better than he had yesterday, he was moving slowly and his face was still paler than Sam had ever seen it.
They were whisked through the streets of the city with the kind of efficiency only the Secret Service could provide in the notoriously clogged District. On the way up the ramp to their house, Nick waved to the photographers that had gathered outside the Secret Service checkpoint on Ninth Street.
“I predict that photo will be on the front page of every paper in the country tomorrow,” Sam said.
“Maybe they’ll stop frothing at the mouth now that they know I’m going to live.”
“Too soon for jokes.” Her cell phone rang, and after a brief glance at the caller ID, she ignored the call from Darren Tabor. He was on her shit list after publishing the article about her suspension.
Melinda, the agent on duty, opened the door for them. “Welcome home, Mr. Vice President. Good to see you looking well.”
“Thanks, Melinda.”
Sam wanted to tell Secret Service Barbie to get her filthy eyes off her husband, but she held back that urge. One of these days...
Scotty came rushing toward them, hurtling himself into Nick’s outstretched arms, which cleared Sam’s mind of every thought that wasn’t focused on her family.
“So glad you’re home,” Scotty said.
“Good to be here.” Nick smiled at her over Scotty’s head as he hugged their son for much longer than usual since Scotty had become a teenager and began recoiling from most forms of parental affection. “You’re feeling better?”
“A lot better today. How about you?”
“Same. Still not perfect, but better.”
“This would be a good day to binge watch Star Wars,” Scotty said.
“I can’t think of anything I’d rather do,” Nick replied.
They went upstairs to the master bedroom, and Sam got them settled in bed with remote controls and tall glasses of ice water. She’d been taught a big lesson about the perils of dehydration and was pushing the water hard.
“Move over and let me in,” she said to Scotty.
“You hate Star Wars.”
“True, but I love you, and I need some snuggles.”
He curled up his lip at the word snuggle, but he moved closer to Nick to let her in.
She had just gotten settled when her phone rang again. Prepared to tell Darren to fuck off and leave her alone, she flipped open the phone.
“Sam, we’ve got a problem,” Freddie said. “You need to get over here.”
“What kind of problem?”
“Josh is going off the rails. He’s terrified his father is going to have him killed.”
“What? He said that?”
“He’s been ranting about it all morning. I tried to talk him down because I know you’re dealing with Nick and the flu and everything, but he’s losing it. Nothing I say gets through to him.”
The last freaking thing she felt like doing was leaving the nice warm bed and her two favorite people, but she couldn’t let Freddie twist in the wind alone with Josh. “Where are you?”
“Crystal Gateway. He’s paranoid about me calling you. He’s convinced Hamilton is probably having you followed.”
“How would Hamilton even know I’m involved?”
“Josh says he knows everything.” After a brief pause, Freddie added, “In case there’s any truth to it, shut your phone off before you leave so he can’t find you.”
“So you’re buying into the conspiracy theories?”
Lowering his voice, Freddie said, “There’s something about how fearful he is that’s resonating with me. I’m getting a gut check.”
Sam had taught him to trust his gut, so the comment had her moving a little quicker to put on the shoes she’d only recently kicked off. “I’ll be there shortly.”
“Thanks.”
While Scotty’s gaze remained glued to the action on the TV, Nick was watching her. “What’s up?” he asked.
“Josh is melting down. Gotta do some damage control. I shouldn’t be long.”
“Be careful.”
She went around the bed to kiss him, which had Scotty making retching noises.
Nick smiled and curled his hand around her neck to keep her there for a moment longer. Into her ear, he whispered, “Watch out for Troy Hamilton. Be extra careful.”
“I will. Don’t worry.”
“That’ll be the day.”
Mindful of Freddie’s warning, she powered down her phone and put it in her pocket. Though she was suspended, she still unlocked her bedside table to retrieve the weapon she never left home without, except when running after the ambulance carrying her husband. She stuck her badge into her back pocket just in case she needed it, not that she expected to.
“Scotty, you’re in charge,” Sam said. “Make sure he does nothing but rest.”
“Got it,” he said, eyes still glued to the TV.
Though they were both a lot better than they’d been, she still hated to leave them, even for a couple of hours. And when she stepped outside the bedroom to see Melinda positioned in the hallway, she hated leaving them even more.
“They’re not to be disturbed for any reason,” Sam said.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Sam wanted to snap back at her, to tell her not to call her ma’am, but that would be pointless. As the second lady, she was ma’am to the Secret Service whether she wanted to be or not. There were battles that could be fought and won, but that wasn’t one of them. Besides, she had enough on her plate at the moment without taking on Nick’s detail.
Was it petty to let the woman bug her? Of course it was. Melinda was only doing her job, but why had her young, sexy husband warranted a young, sexy female agent on his detail? Sam wondered if there was someone she could complain to and get Melinda reassigned. But she’d never do that, especially as a law enforcement officer herself. It was hard enough working in the old boys’ club without making life difficult for a female colleague.
So she would keep her mouth shut and put up with Melinda’s presence in her home and her eyes on Nick, but she didn’t have to like it.
Traffic was light on Sunday afternoon, and she made good time on her way to Arlington, keeping half an eye on the rearview mirror looking for a tail that didn’t materialize. If Hamilton was having her followed, he wasn’t being obvious about it. There was no way anyone could get near her car outside the house with the Secret Service all over the place, and the car had been home since she brought Josh there the other day. For once, having the place crawling with Secret Service was coming in handy.
Well, that time they stopped Stahl from killing her on her own doorstep had been rather convenient too.
She kept an eye in the mirror as she took the 14th Street Bridge out of the city into Northern Virginia and headed for the Crystal City exit. That the Crystal Gateway Marriott was right next door to the Crystal City Marriott perplexed her as it always did. Who’d had the big idea to give two hotels practically the same name? Freddie had said Gateway, hadn’t he?
She pulled up to the main door and flashed her badge to the valet on duty. “I won’t be long.”
His eyes bugged when he recognized her.
Sam was long gone before he stopped gawking. Inside, she used a house phone to ask the operator to connect her with Freddie Cruz’s room. He answered on the first ring.
“Yeah.”
“It’s me. Where are you?”
“Room 718.”
“On my way.”
“Were you tailed?”
“Not that I could tell.”
“Okay.”
Sam took the elevator to the seventh floor and followed the hallway signs to the room. She knocked once, and Freddie opened the door. With one look she could see he was harried and annoyed.
“Thank God you’re here,” he said in a low growl. “He’s driving me nuts.”
Josh was pacing the small room, energy coming off his body in waves that were nearly visible. With his face a scary shade of red, he looked like he was about to blow from the pressure building inside him.
“Josh,” Sam said, since he hadn’t seemed to notice her arrival.
Whirling around, he said, “You gotta let me out of here. He’s going to find me. I’m like a sitting duck here.”
“Calm down—”
“Don’t tell me to calm down! You don’t know him! You don’t know what he’s capable of!”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
His lips tightened as he shook his head. “Take my word for it.”
“I wish I could, but I just met you on Friday, and his reputation is legendary, so you’ll have to forgive me if I need more to go on.”
He took a series of deep breaths, obviously trying to calm himself down. “He raised me, and I’m terrified of him. What else do you need to know?”
“Specifics. Why are you terrified of him?”
“He’s ruthless. Nothing I ever did was good enough for him. If I screwed up, he beat the shit out of me. If I mouthed off, he beat the shit out of me.”
“Just you, or your siblings too?”
“I don’t know if he ever hit them. They’re older than me, and by the time I was old enough to be his punching bag they were out of the house.”
“And you never asked them?”
Shaking his head, he said, “Until now, I’ve never told anyone that he hit me.”
“Did your mother know?”
“I think she did, but she never said anything, and she certainly didn’t try to stop it.”
“So she wasn’t in the room when he hit you?”
“Never. It was only ever the two of us.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this the other day?”
“Because! It’s not something I just blab about. I know who he is and what people think of him. Who’s going to believe me over him?”
“I believe you, Josh.”
He stopped moving, and his shoulders sagged, as if he’d been relieved of a weighty burden. “You do? Really?”
“Yeah, I do. I’ve been in this business a lot of years, and I know the difference between someone who’s playing the sympathy card and someone who’s been the victim of violence.”
At that, he stood up straighter again. “I am not a victim. I’m a survivor. Huge difference.”
“You’re right. There is a huge difference.”
“I can’t stay here. He’s going to find me, and when he does, he’ll kill me.”
Sam exchanged glances with Freddie, who looked as tense as she felt. “Give me a minute to talk to my partner, okay? We’ll figure something out.”
Josh didn’t acknowledge her question or her statement, so Sam turned and took Freddie by the arm. “Hallway.”
They stepped outside the room.
“You’ve got a key?”
“Yeah.”
She nodded toward the alcove next to the elevators, which was just around the corner from the room. “What’s your take?” she asked when they were out of earshot of the room.
“I believe him. He’s legitimately terrified.”
“I agree. I think it’s time to call in the brass on this. I didn’t want to until we were sure we had something, but his fear is enough for me to involve the department. This is way above my pay grade.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that. How do we explain what we’ve done so far?”
“I’ll figure that out on the way to Farnsworth’s house.”
“You’re going to his house?”
“That’s where I’m most likely to find him on a Sunday afternoon, and PS I grew up going to his house, remember?”
“Since I wasn’t actually there, no, I don’t remember.”
“Very funny. I’m suspended, so they have to cut me out of this, but you’ll keep me in the loop, understood?”
“Of course. What do we tell Josh?”
“That I’m going to talk to my chief to figure out how to keep him safe while investigating his claims.”
“He’s gonna freak. He’s been ranting that people are going to find out the truth about Troy Hamilton and how someone’s going to kill him.”
“You think he’s mentally ill?”
“No, I think he’s truly terrified. When the calls from his father started, he did a one-eighty. Before that he was calm, we were chilling, watching TV. After the calls, he was unhinged. I’ve seen nothing that smacks of mental illness, and I’d recognize it if I saw it.” The comment was a reminder that Freddie’s father, who’d recently reentered his life after a twenty-year absence, suffered from bipolar disorder.
“I’ll talk to him and explain the plan. Your job is to keep him calm until I get back.”
“Lucky me.” They rounded the corner and Freddie withdrew the keycard from his pocket to open the door to an empty room. “Aw, shit, he’s gone.”
“Check the bathroom,” Sam said, her heart sinking.
“Gone.”
“Fuck.” She rushed out of the room and ran for the stairwell at the end of the hallway, well aware that he had a decent head start on them. Freddie’s pounding footsteps followed behind her. They went down seven flights and burst into the lobby, startling an older couple.
“You’re the second lady!” the man said.
Ignoring him, Sam said to Freddie, “Take the back.” She ran for the main doors, hoping for a glimpse of Josh before he disappeared, but there was no sign of him. Motherfucker. She jogged to the corner of Fifteenth Street, but he wasn’t there either. Goddamn it.
Freddie came out the front door and ran over to her. “Anything?”
“No.”
Sam powered up her phone and tried to call Josh, but the call went straight to voicemail. She left a message, begging him to call her, to trust her to keep him safe, and then slapped the phone closed.
“So what now?”
“Now I do what I probably should’ve done on Friday,” she said grimly. “I’m going to Farnsworth.”
“What should I do?”
“Grab your stuff and anything of Josh’s out of the room and go home.. I’ll call you after I see the chief.”
“You were trying to help him, Sam. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Maybe so, but if he turns up dead, that’s on me.”
“No, it’s on the person who kills him.”
“Let’s hope we can find him before anything happens.”
“Since I’ve got nothing going on at home until later when Elin gets back, I’m heading to HQ. Hit me up there when you know what the plan is.”
“What do I tell the Rollings family if he turns out to be their son and I can’t find him?”
“We’ll find him.”
As Sam trudged to her car, her stomach aching the way it used to when she was strung out on diet cola, she wished she shared his certainty.
CHAPTER NINE (#ulink_5cf0727a-1873-505f-9294-7de7f00236a9)
JOE AND MARTI FARNSWORTH lived in a modest home in the city’s Kingman Park neighborhood, known for its brick-fronted townhouses and social activism. The chief believed in living among the people he served, and they had resided in the same house for more than thirty years. Sam and her sisters had been frequent guests there, for holidays, barbecues and even an occasional sleepover.
Uncle Joe and Aunt Marti had been like family to the Holland girls, which is why Sam didn’t think twice about going to the chief’s home on a Sunday afternoon. Marti answered the door, her face lighting up with pleasure at the sight of Sam. They’d last seen each other at Nick’s inauguration.
Sam returned Marti’s warm embrace.
“What a lovely surprise! Joe and I were talking about you and Nick last night. We heard he was in the hospital! Is he all right?”
“He’s much better. He and Scotty have been laid low by the flu.”
“Aww, the poor guys.”
“The good news is I finally have definitive proof that Nick is not superhuman.”
Marti laughed as she linked her arm through Sam’s to lead her into the family room where Joe was face-first in the Redskins game. “Earth to honey, we have a visitor.”
Joe tore his gaze off the TV and did a double take when he saw Sam with Marti.
“Sorry to bother you at home, sir.”
“Oh, stop that, Sam,” Marti said. “He’s Uncle Joe here.”
“He’s always sir to me now, ma’am.”
Though Marti scowled, her eyes glimmered with amusement.
“If I have to be called ma’am in my own house, so do you,” Sam added.
“Fair enough,” Marti said with a laugh. “I assume this isn’t a social call, so I’ll leave you to talk to your uncle Joe. I’m off to the grocery store.” She gave Sam a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t be a stranger around here, okay?”
“I won’t. Sorry it’s been so long since I stopped by.”
She swept away Sam’s apology with the wave of her hand. “No apologies needed. You’re the second-busiest lady in America these days, and I’d venture to guess Gloria Nelson’s schedule hasn’t got anything on yours.”
“Your words, not mine.”
Marti laughed. “Spoken like the wife of a politician. You take care.”
“You too, Aunt Marti.”
Marti kissed her husband before she left through the kitchen.
“You two are still honeymooning, huh?” Sam asked as she took a seat, propping her elbows on her knees. Her family had always teased the Farnsworths about their adorable PDA habit.
He eyed her shrewdly and muted the game. “Is that why you’re here? To tease me about kissing my wife?”
“No,” she said with a sigh. “We have a situation.”
“How’s it possible that you have a situation when you’re suspended?”
“Well, it’s sort of like this.” Making use of the department-issued tablet that sat on his coffee table along with files he’d brought home from the office, she showed him the age-progression photo, explained how Josh Hamilton had sought her out and everything that’d happened since then, concluding with the information that he was now on the run. As she spoke, Farnsworth’s normally amiable expression hardened.
“So let me get this straight—while you’re serving out a suspension, you took on a new case involving the son of the FBI director, you called in the District’s chief medical examiner to take a swab that will be processed through the District’s lab and asked Detective Cruz to provide protection for Mr. Hamilton—”
“At my expense.”
“Still, you involved Detective Cruz, and now the man you were trying to protect has gone missing. Do I have the facts correct?”
It took everything she had not to squirm under his intense glare. “You do.”
He stared at her for a long time before he shook his head in apparent dismay. “You do not make it easy, Lieutenant.”
She was about to ask him what he meant by that but she didn’t have to.
“You’re always coloring outside the lines, and it’s becoming increasingly more difficult for me to defend your actions.”
Ouch. That hurt. “I don’t expect you to defend me or to understand why I do the things I do. You want results. I get you results. Every time.”
“You’ll never hear me deny that. But the means to the end, Lieutenant, is where we have a problem.”
To hear him say they had a problem raised all sorts of alarms within her, but now was not the time to worry about alarms. “You have to understand the spot I was in—Josh refused to deal with anyone but me, and if it turns out that he is this missing kid, how could I not try to get those answers for the poor parents who’ve spent thirty years looking for him?”
“I do understand the spot you were in, and I hope you understand the spot you’ve put me in. You’ve got a man accusing the FBI director of kidnapping, and you didn’t think I needed to know that the second it happened?”
“No one has accused Director Hamilton of anything.”
“Semantics, Lieutenant. The second you involved Dr. McNamara you involved the department, and you know it.”
“So what do we do now? Hamilton is on the run, and he’s convinced that if his father finds him, he’ll kill him.”
“He said that? Those exact words?”
“Those exact words.”
“Jesus. And you believed him?”
“Both Detective Cruz and I believe he was genuinely afraid for his life.”
Farnsworth reached for the landline extension that sat on the coffee table and dialed a number, keeping his steely stare fixed on her. “This is Chief Farnsworth. Put me through to Conklin.” After a pause, he said, “Hey, it’s me. I’m with Holland and we need an APB for Josh Hamilton.” He provided a description based on the photo Sam had shown him. “I want everyone looking for him. Notify Maryland and Virginia State Police. He was last seen on foot in the Crystal City area just over an hour ago. If we find him, take him into protective custody.” After a pause, he said, “Yes, she knows she suspended. I’ll fill you in later. Ask for hourly reports from Patrol.”
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Marie Force
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: Every family has its secrets… As the first anniversary of her marriage to Vice President Nick Cappuano approaches, Lieutenant Sam Holland is dreaming of Bora Bora—sun, sand and a desperately needed break from the DC grind. But real life has a way of intervening, and Sam soon finds herself taking on one of the most perplexing cases of her career.Government worker Josh Hamilton begs Sam to investigate his shocking claim that his parents stole him from another family thirty years ago. More complicated still, his «father» is none other than the FBI director. When a member of Josh′s family is brutally murdered, Sam begins to question how deep this cover-up goes. Is it possible the revered director was part of a baby-napping ring and that others involved are also targets?With a killer intent on deadly revenge and her team still reeling from a devastating loss, Sam′s plate is full—and when Nick and their son, Scotty, take ill, is her dream of a tropical anniversary celebration in peril too?