by Marie Force
Sam read the report, filed by Patrolman O’Brien, who she’d worked with in the past, detailing the altercation between Cleo and a man named Victor Klein. She’d been driving her white Audi SUV westbound on Connecticut Avenue when she was allegedly sideswiped by Mr. Klein, who’d been driving an older silver BMW.
She skimmed O’Brien’s account of the accident, including the fact that Cleo Beauclair was nearly arrested for the way she acted in the aftermath. “Mrs. Beauclair was screaming at Mr. Klein that he’d endangered her children’s lives with his reckless driving. He was screaming back at her, telling her to shut her fucking mouth. It was discovered that Mr. Klein was wanted on a warrant for failing to appear in court, and he was taken into custody. It’s worth noting that both parties were unusually agitated after what we would call a routine MVA. Mr. Klein was furious about being arrested and was also charged with resisting arrest.”
“Who is he?” Sam asked.
Freddie handed her a printout of Klein’s rap sheet, and as she studied it, a tingle of sensation traveled the length of her backbone. In a career of crime that covered everything from petty larceny to B&E, he was what they often referred to as an escalator—his crimes started simple and graduated to more serious offenses. The warrant had stemmed from a failure to appear in court on a child support matter.
He was on parole for the B&E charge. Other than the child support issue, he hadn’t been in any trouble since being released from prison a year ago.
“I want to look at this guy,” Sam said. “Did he get a load of Cleo and her fancy car and see dollar signs?”
“I pulled his financials,” Freddie said, “and he’s up to his eyeballs in debt. The outstanding child support alone is over six figures.”
“I want to know every step he made from the second he was released from custody—and why was he released if he still owes that much in back child support?” Sam asked.
“Probably because we were full to overflowing in the city jail last weekend, and they arraigned and released anyone charged with nonviolent crimes,” Freddie said.
“Cruz, Green and McBride—brief Carlucci and Dominguez on where we are and get them on Klein tonight. I want anything and everything we can get on this guy. What else does anyone have?”
“McBride and I talked to the neighbors and again to the women we talked to yesterday who knew Cleo, but we didn’t get anything new there,” Cruz said. “We didn’t pick up on any hint of marital trouble or infidelity or anything like that, but we also didn’t get the sense that the people we talked to would know if there was trouble in paradise.”
“I’m going to see if I can explore that line of questioning more thoroughly with the older son when he gets here,” Sam said.
“I’ve got my people checking into disgruntled APG employees,” Hill said, “but that’s slow going. They’re scattered all over the place, so we’re tracking them down one by one. I’ll let you know if anything pops there.”
“Good work today, everyone,” Sam said. “Let’s reconvene at HQ tomorrow at zero seven hundred and see where we are.” She had to go into the office tomorrow, so she’d need to ask Ms. Finklestein whether she could leave the children with Shelby. Until they figured out who had killed Jameson and Cleo, Sam didn’t think the children should return to school.
After the others left, Sam went upstairs to check on the kids, who were still sleeping. She hadn’t seen Shelby upstairs, so she must be back in the kitchen. Then she looked in on Scotty, who was doing his homework with headphones on. When he saw her come in, he took off the headphones.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Just checking on all my kids.”
“Are they still asleep?”
Sam nodded. “We’ll have to get them up in about half an hour or so. Their older brother is due here soon.”
“Do you think we’ll get to keep them?” Scotty asked.
Sam went to sit on the edge of his bed. “Probably not. We offered them temporary shelter until something more permanent could be arranged.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry if you’re disappointed that they can’t stay. If it makes you feel any better, I’m disappointed too.”
“You are?”
“Yeah. It didn’t take long to get attached to them.”
“They’re cute.”
“Yes, they are.”
“Where will they go when they leave here?”
“We don’t know that yet. The social worker is trying to find family members who’d be willing to take them. It’s all very complicated and compounded by the tragic loss the family has already suffered.”
He looked up at her with big eyes. “Will you make sure that wherever they go, they’ll be safe and well cared for? Before you let them leave here?”
“Yes, buddy,” Sam said, hugging him. “I’ll make sure.”
“Not all foster homes are as good as this one.”
A feeling of acute unease had her sitting up straighter. “Scotty—”
“I need to finish this stupid math homework, okay?” He gave her a pleading look, all but begging her not to pursue it further.
But how could she hear that and not want to know what he’d meant? “Okay.” She got up to leave the room and encountered Nick coming up the stairs. “Did Terry and the others leave?”
“Just now. How are the littles?”
“Still sleeping. We’ll have to get them up soon.” She glanced at Darcy, the Secret Service agent sitting outside Scotty’s door, and took Nick by the hand, tugging him into their room and closing the door. “Scotty just said something.”
“What did he say?”
“We were talking about the kids and where they might end up. He wanted me to promise I’d make sure they end up in a good place. He said not all foster homes are as good as this one.”
Nick’s jaw tightened. “What do you suppose that means?”
“He cut me off before I could say anything. It was obvious he didn’t want me to ask.”
Nick stood with his hands on his hips, his posture unusually rigid. “The thought of anyone being unkind to him makes me murderous.”
“I know. Me too.”
“We’ve never really talked to him about the time between when his mother and grandfather died and when he ended up with Mrs. Littlefield in Richmond.”
“Do you think we should?”
“Part of me is afraid to ask.”
Sam sighed. “Me too. But now I need to know. There was definitely something to the way he said it that has me freaking out a little about what we don’t know.”
After a long pause, Nick said, “Let’s table this for now. We’ll talk to him when the time is right, and while we’re in the middle of the situation with Aubrey and Alden is not the time. Do you agree?”
“Yes, that works for me. But we do need to talk to him.”
He put his arms around her. “We will.”
“I wish there was a way to go back and erase everything that hurt him.”
“That’d be nice,” Nick said, “but all we can do is let him know we’re here and he can tell us anything.”
“This parenting gig is hard sometimes.”
“True, but most of the time he makes it easy on us.”
“Yes, he does, because he’s the best kid ever.”
“You won’t hear me arguing.” Nick drew back and put his hands on her face before he kissed her. “There’s no one else I’d rather be navigating the parenthood maze with than you.”
“Even if I’m a hot mess of a mother most of the time?”
“You are not. Why would you say that?”
“You ought to hear the stuff Cleo did for her kids. Volunteering at their school, craft parties and playdates—”
Nick kissed her until she forgot what she was going to say. “You’re a wonderful mo
ther, and your son adores you.”
“For now. How will he feel when he finds out I was supposed to have craft parties?”
“He’ll be damned thankful you never put him through that nonsense. Now if you wanted to have his friends over for a video game tournament, he’d be all for that.”
“Let’s do it. When you get back, we’ll tell him to invite as many friends as he wants for a sleepover with video games and movies and pizza and up-all-night fun.”
“And who will be the one to supervise this up-all-night fun?”
“Duh. You. You’re the one with insomnia. It may as well be useful for once.”
Nick laughed and then kissed her again. “You’re a wonderful mother, Sam. Don’t ever think otherwise. You’d lay down your own life for that boy.”
“I really would.”
“That’s all that matters.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHRISTINA’S EYES ACHED from crying. Every part of her mourned the loss of a relationship she’d expected to go the distance. She and Tommy had been the real thing from the very beginning. She’d never had a connection to a man like the one she’d shared with him, and to lose that... It was like what she imagined losing a limb would feel like.
Thankfully, Alex had slept much of the day after his fever finally broke. She hoped that wouldn’t mean he’d be up all night. Not that she expected to sleep much. Her mind was too full of unsettling thoughts—such as whether she’d be able to get another job after being out of the political game for most of the last year or how she would manage single motherhood or whether Tommy would fight her for custody when he knew he didn’t deserve it.
The idea of a contentious battle with him made her feel hopeless and despondent. She’d wanted a life with him, not an ugly battle that she probably wouldn’t win because she wasn’t Alex’s biological mother. But she was the only mother the child had ever known, and that ought to count for something.
She needed a lawyer and a drink. And not necessarily in that order. She was about to get up to see what she had in the way of alcohol in the house when her phone rang. The caller ID showed a number she didn’t recognize, making her almost afraid to take the call. What fresh hell would this bring?
“Hello?” she said tentatively.
“Is this Christina Billings?”
In the second that followed the inquiry from a male voice she had one thought: Please, God, please don’t let Tommy be dead. New tears filled eyes already raw and aching.
“Ms. Billings? Are you there?”
“Yes. Who is this?”
“Dr. Anderson from GW. I’m calling about Thomas Gonzales.”
Her heart contracted in her chest, which was so tight she could barely breathe. “What about him?”
“He’s made a significant decision, and he’d like very much to speak to you about it even though he knows you’re angry with him—and with good reason, which are his words, not mine.”
He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t dead, and he thought she had good reason to be angry with him. These were the most positive developments in weeks.
“Ms. Billings? Are you able to speak to Sergeant Gonzales?”
“Um, yes. I’ll speak to him.”
“Very good. Here he is.”
Christina braced herself for whatever it was he had to tell her and how it would affect her—and Alex.
“Babe,” he said.
Was he crying? Oh my God.
He spoke quickly, as if he was afraid she might hang up before he could get in everything he needed to say. “I’m so sorry about last night, about everything. I’ve totally fucked up, and I wouldn’t blame you if you took Alex and left me. But please don’t do that. Please don’t. I’m going to fix it. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose my son, my family. Please.”
“Tommy,” she said as tears spilled down her face.
“I know I’ve already asked so much of you, but I need one more chance. Please give me one more chance. Everything has been so bad since I lost A.J. It’s all my fault. None of it is your fault. It’s me.”
He was saying everything she’d longed to hear for so long, but how could she know that this time would be different than the previous instances when he’d proclaimed to be “on the other side” of the terrible grief that had all but ruined them?
“I’m going to check myself into rehab.”
Wait. What? Rehab? “Wh-why do you need rehab?”
“I... I’ve been... I’ve been taking pain meds to numb myself. It’s... It’s gotten a little out of hand. Lately.”
Oh dear God. Was he saying he was addicted to pain meds? When the hell had that happened?
“Christina. Babe. Please, I know I’ve asked so much of you with Alex—”
“Do not bring him into this. I take care of him because I love him. He’s my son as much as he’s yours.”
“Yes, he is.”
“I want something in writing that says that. I want protection from the possibility of being frozen out of his life.”
“That’s not going to happen. You have my word on that.”
“You’ll have to forgive me, but your word isn’t good enough for me. Not when it comes to Alex. I want legal guardianship of him.”
“I’ll make that happen. Today, before I go.”
Hearing that, the tight knot of stress that’d been constricting her chest eased somewhat.
“I should’ve done that a long time ago, and I’m sorry I didn’t. You never should’ve been in the spot you were in last night when he needed care and I wasn’t there. You should have the legal authority to act on his behalf.”
He was saying everything she’d wanted to hear for so long, but the foundation they’d built their relationship on had been rocked by the events of the last nine months. Whether or not it could be rebuilt would remain to be seen. “I pretended I had the legal authority, but it would be nice to not have to fake it.”
“Babe,” he said softly, so softly she could barely hear him. “I love you so much. I love you and Alex and our little family. I’m going to work really hard to get back to you.”
She wiped away tears as his words of love went straight to her broken heart. “Where will you be?”
“I don’t know yet. Dr. Anderson and Dr. Trulo are figuring that out now.”
“Trulo’s involved?” She had a call and voice mail from him that she hadn’t gotten around to dealing with yet. “What will this mean for your job?”
“He swears it’ll have no impact on my job. I’ll be out on medical leave. No one except Sam and Freddie will know where I really am or why.”
“You honestly think you can keep a lid on this in light of the attention your squad gets these days?”
“We’re going to do everything we can to keep it private.”
Her stomach hurt at the thought of it getting out. If the press found out that Sam’s sergeant was in rehab, that would be big news.
“I know I have no right to ask this, but I’m going to need you to help me through this. I can’t do it without you.”
“That’s not true. You have to do it for yourself.”
“I just want to know that you’ll be there on the other side. I can’t bear to think about how much I’ve hurt you and Alex. I don’t want to be this guy anymore.” His words were choked by sobs. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”
Her eyes filled, and she closed them against the new flood of tears. “It’s not your fault, Tommy. You went through something awful, and I tried to help you. We all tried, but—”
“There was nothing you or anyone could’ve done that you didn’t do. Dr. Trulo is looking for a place that can deal with the pills and the PTSD from Arnold’s death. He said I have to do both or it won’t work.”
“I hope the department is footing the bill. This happened to you on the
job.”
“Insurance should cover most of it. They’re working on all that.”
After another long pause, she said, “I’m glad you’re doing this, Tommy. I hope it helps you to find a way to live with what happened without having to resort to drugs.”
“I hope so too. I’m just sorry it got to this point. I tried really hard to power through it. Look at where that got me.”
“Let’s keep the blame where it belongs—on the guy who killed A.J. This is his fault, not yours.”
“It’s generous of you to say that, but a big chunk of it is on me and how I chose to handle it.”
“That’s not fair, Tommy,” she said with more feeling than she’d had toward him in longer than she could remember. “It’s not like there’s a handbook out there to tell you how to cope with something like this.”
“Yeah, I guess there isn’t.”
“Could I... Could Alex and I see you before you go?”
“I’d really like that. They’re keeping me at GW until they can set something up. They didn’t say so, but I don’t think they trust me to be out on my own.”
“I’ll come by in the morning with Alex.” Another thought occurred to her. “What about the wedding?”
“Oh shit,” he said, groaning. “I never even thought of it. That’s how self-absorbed I’ve become.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll let Freddie know. He can ask Will to stand in for you.”
“Will you please tell him how sorry I am?”
“I will, but I know he’ll be glad you’re getting the help you need. Everyone knows how much you’ve suffered.”
“I just want to know...” A sob choked him.
“What do you want to know, Tommy?”
“Do you still love me, Chris? After everything I’ve put you through, do I still have any chance of putting things back together with you?”
“I do still love you. If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t have spent the entire day crying over what I thought I’d lost forever. As long as we still love each other, there’s always a chance.”