Fatal Chaos

by Marie Force

  Gonzo filled him in on the incident with Offenbach.

  “Holy crap. He just attacked you?” To Malone, he said, “He’ll be charged with assault, right?”

  “The lieutenant tells me she won’t cooperate with assault charges,” Malone said, sarcasm dripping from his every word.

  “Why the hell not?” Green asked. “He can’t just go around punching people.”

  “It’s like this,” Gonzo said. “Our lieutenant has done some punching of her own in the past, and she’d rather not press charges when she wasn’t charged with assault when she did it. You see?”

  “Ah, gotcha.”

  “One thing you’ll quickly learn,” Malone said to Green, “is your lieutenant likes to keep things interesting.”

  “I already know that,” Green said with a grin. “Why do you think I’m here?”

  “I like him,” Sam said. “I like him so much.”

  Malone shook his head, uttered something under his breath about her being unmanageable and stormed off.

  “Is he pissed?” Green asked.

  “Nah,” Sam said. “He loves me.”

  “Sure he does,” Gonzo said, chuckling.

  It was nice to see him amused and making jokes the way he used to. If she had to take a punch to the face to make that happen, it was worth it.

  “What’re you doing here?” she asked Green. “It’s not four yet.”

  “I heard from Vega’s army buddy, and he was willing to meet with me.”

  “Where’d this meeting take place?”

  “At a coffee shop in Alexandria.”

  “In the future,” Sam said, “please let us know when you’re meeting with someone so we’ll know where to look if you don’t come back.”

  “Oh, right. Will do.”

  “What’d you find out?”

  “Vega is in rehab. Since he left the Army, he’s been spiraling with PTSD issues and alcoholism. A bunch of his buddies got together, held an intervention and got him into treatment about six weeks ago. He didn’t want anyone to know where he was, so they kept it quiet.”

  “Were you able to confirm that he’s at the rehab?” Sam asked.

  “The friend had the admissions paperwork to prove it. I called the facility, but due to patient privacy laws, they couldn’t confirm he was there.”

  “Hmmm, I’d feel better if you had confirmation.”

  “So would I, but there is one more thing his friend told me. While he was overseas, he was in a car accident that injured his shooting arm. Apparently, he developed a tremor that he still has, which would make it impossible to shoot with any kind of accuracy. Apparently, that was a big part of the downward spiral, accepting the fact that what had made him special had been lost forever.”

  “Wow, that’s too bad,” Gonzo said. “I feel for the guy.”

  “So do I,” Sam said. “Let me ask you this… Did the friend tell you about the tremor voluntarily, or did he get a sense of why you were asking?”

  “We didn’t really talk about the shootings. I had told him we were interested in talking to Vega because of his expertise, not because we thought he was involved. When we couldn’t find him, we became concerned.” He rolled his hand. “Et cetera.”

  “I think we can rule him out, then,” Sam said. “Well done, Detective. Thank you for following up.”

  “No problem.”

  As Sam began to update him on the latest developments and the plan to visit funeral homes, Freddie came rolling in.

  “Couldn’t sleep, so here I am.”

  “We need to get some lives around here,” Sam said.

  He recoiled at the sight of her. “What the hell happened to you?”

  She filled him in on the incident with Offenbach, updated him on Angel’s assault and told him and Green about the funeral home plan.

  “Ah, God, poor Angel,” Freddie said. “And Roberto…”

  “He’s with her, and they’ll get through this.” Sam’s phone rang, and she took the call from Jeannie McBride, who’d been through an ordeal similar to Angel’s last year. “Hey, Jeannie.” Sam told her what’d happened and asked if she’d be willing to go in to talk with Angel. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but—”

  “I’d be happy to help. I know all too well what she’s feeling today. I’ll ask Michael to come with me so he can talk to Roberto.”

  “That’d be amazing. Thank you both so much.”

  “No problem. I’ll be in after I see her.”

  “Take your time with her. We’ve got things covered here for now.”

  “Will do.”

  “That’s a great idea, Sam,” Freddie said after she ended the call.

  “I have one every now and then. Speaking of my brilliant beyond brilliant ideas, let’s get busy combing the local funeral listings for women old enough to have a son, first initial D, in his twenties. I want the name of any woman thirty-five or older who has died in the last twelve hours.”

  “If it’s that recent, it’s apt to be a while before the notices appear online,” Green said. After a pause, he added, “I worked at a funeral home in high school.”

  All eyes landed on Green in stunned amazement.

  “Who works at a funeral home in high school?” Sam asked.

  Green laughed. “My parents own a bunch of them. Funerals are the Green family business.”

  “And you ended up a Homicide detective,” Sam said. “Isn’t that a conflict of interest?”

  The others laughed.

  “Not if I don’t suggest the families make use of the Greenlawn Funeral Homes.”

  “Greenlawn?” Gonzo said, incredulous. “That’s your family?”

  “That’d be us.”

  “Holy shit. That’s only the biggest funeral operation in the Metro area. You guys own more than a few funeral homes.”

  Green seemed uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken. “Is that going to be a problem?” he asked his new partner.

  “Not for me,” Gonzo said.

  “It might actually be an asset,” Sam said. “How would you feel about accompanying Angel to a few wakes, to see if she can ID her attacker?”

  “I’m happy to do whatever it takes to stop these guys.”

  “So how come you didn’t go into the funeral business?” Gonzo asked.

  “Too depressing.”

  After a beat, they all cracked up laughing at the irony of him choosing Homicide over funerals.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “I LIKE HIM,” Freddie said to Sam when they were in her office. “He fits right in.”

  “I’m glad you think so. I’m impressed with his work so far and with the way he seems to understand what he’s navigating coming in here to take Arnold’s place.”

  “Not everyone could do that successfully, but I think he’s going to work out well.”

  “Agreed. Now I just have to find someone to take Tyrone’s place.”

  “Any contenders?”

  Sam gestured to a bulging file on her desk. “I’m supposed to go through all these applications and narrow it down to three. Who has the time for that nonsense?”

  He rolled his eyes. “You want me to do it for you?”

  “Would you?”

  “Yes, I’ll do it,” he said with a long-suffering sigh as he took the file from her.

  “Get me someone good. No drama queens or ass pains.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” he said sarcastically.

  “It might be nice to have another woman around here.”

  “We already have four.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “I was merely pointing out the existence of four female Homicide detectives.”

  “Thank you for doing that math for me. You know it’s not my th
ing.” As they talked, she scrolled through her email and clicked on a message from the lab with a report on the first car used in the shootings. “Hot damn! The lab got some hairs and ruled out the owners of the car. They ran the DNA through the databases, but didn’t get any hits.”

  “So that means our guys are first-time offenders.”

  “Or they’re repeat offenders who’ve never been required to give DNA before. I’m gonna guess that they didn’t start with gunning down innocent people for no good reason. I’ll ask the lab to cross match the DNA from the hairs to Angel’s rape kit. We’re closing in on these SOBs.” She typed the request, asked the lab to give it highest priority and pressed Send.

  “Perhaps the death in the family will keep our perps off the streets tonight,” Freddie said.

  “We can only hope for that, and sketches that’ll get us some faces for these guys.” As she said the words, a dizzy spell hit, making the room spin. She grasped the desk, hoping it would stop the sickening movement inside her head.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Dizzy.”

  “When was the last time you ate?”

  Sam couldn’t recall. Suddenly, she was exhausted, starving and craving some time with her husband and son. “I’d like to go home for a little while. Give me a lift?”

  “Sure, let’s go.”

  * * *

  AVERY GOT HOME early for once, walking through the door just after six-thirty. From upstairs, he could hear Shelby talking to the baby as she got him ready for bed. He dropped his work bag inside the door and headed up the stairs, eager to see Noah before he went to bed.

  “Hey,” he said when he walked into the room.

  “Look, Noah,” Shelby said. “There’s Daddy.”

  He loved when she called him Daddy. It made his heart ache with a love so big it couldn’t be contained. “Hey, buddy.” Avery leaned over the changing table for a better look at the baby.

  Noah squealed at the sight of him, his arms and legs thrashing about.

  Shelby laughed. “I think he wants Daddy to pick him up.”

  “Daddy would love to.” Avery carefully lifted the squirming bundle from the changing table and snuggled him into his embrace, breathing in the clean baby scent that clung to his freshly washed hair. “Did you guys have a good day?”

  “We had a great day,” Shelby said as she cleaned up the room. “After work, we went for a long walk, we stopped at the park and we checked in on the ladies at the studio.” She referred to the bridal salon that she still owned. She’d turned the management of it over to others when she accepted the position with Nick and Sam.

  Avery moved about the spacious room, rubbing the baby’s back and helping to settle him. Shelby called him a baby whisperer because he was so good at getting Noah to sleep. That was another title he loved. Hell, he loved everything about being part of this little boy’s life, and he’d do just about anything to stay in his life for good.

  Working together, they got the baby settled in his crib, covered him with a light blanket and turned on the Noah’s Ark mobile that played nursery rhymes. Noah loved to watch the animals parade around over his head.

  They tiptoed out of the nursery, which adjoined their room, leaving the door ajar so they could hear him. Shelby also brought the portable half of the baby monitor that had a screen so she could watch him sleep, which she often did. She said it was much more interesting than anything on TV.

  Avery went into their room and pulled off his tie. He changed into a T-shirt and athletic shorts, his usual after-work uniform.

  “Are you hungry?” Shelby asked.

  Normally, he was starving by now, but his stomach was agitated from thinking about the conversation they needed to have. Food was the last thing on his mind. He sat on the bed, elbows propped on his legs and dropped his head, hoping to relieve some of the tension that had gathered in his neck as he tried to find the words he needed.

  “Are you all right?”

  “No. I’m not all right.” That wasn’t how he’d imagined broaching the subject, but it was the truth.

  “What’s wrong? Did something happen at work?”

  “Work is fine.” He forced himself to look up at her. “Will you sit with me for a minute? I need to talk to you.”

  “Sure,” she said, her brows furrowing in confusion.

  He found her adorable, even when confused. Taking hold of her hand, he brought it to his lips, buying himself another minute to figure out what he should say.

  “Are you leaving us?” she whispered.

  The question stunned him. “What? No, I’m not leaving you. I’d never leave you.”

  “You’re scaring me with the way you’re acting. Something is wrong.”

  “Yes, something is wrong, and I can’t be the only one who’s noticed.”

  She looked at him blankly, which made him crazy. How could she not know what he meant?

  “Between us, Shelby.”

  “Oh.”

  Avery forced himself to press on, to put it out there, to give voice to the worries that’d been keeping him awake at night. “You know I’ve been seeing Rosemary twice a week.”

  She nodded.

  “Today we talked about my relationship with you—or lack thereof. She said from the way I described it that we’re living together but estranged. I have to agree with her description.”

  “Things have been busy. With Noah… And everything.”

  “I know. Having a baby has been a big adjustment for both of us. You more than me, of course, but we can’t blame what’s happened between us on him. No, that’s all my fault because of what happened before he was born. I take full responsibility for the breakdown between us.”

  “It’s not just your fault. It’s mine too.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “I’m so caught up in Noah that I haven’t had much time for you.”

  “It’s more than that, Shelby.” He sighed. “It’s like our romantic relationship ended the day I screwed up, and since then we’ve been platonic roommates who share a baby.”

  She looked down at the floor, her shoulders sagging.

  “I can’t live like that forever, and you shouldn’t have to either.”

  “What’re you saying? You want to break up? If you do, I hope you know that I’d never keep you from Noah. I know how much you love him.” The words came out in a rush, as if she’d practiced them.

  “I don’t want to break up. I want to go back to what we had before I screwed it all up. I want you. I want Noah. I want our family. But not like this, Shelby. Not with this awful abyss between us. I can’t handle it anymore. It’s killing me to sleep next to you every night and feel like I don’t have a right to touch you.” Dropping her hand, he put his arm around her and drew her in close to him. “I want you back. I want us back.”

  To his great horror and dismay, she broke down into sobs.

  “Shelby, honey… Please don’t cry. I’m so sorry I hurt you. If I could do my whole life over, I’d go right back to that day and fix it so you’d never have to be so hurt. I swear to God, on Noah’s life, the only woman I love is you. The only woman I want is you.”

  “I’m trying so hard to get past it, Avery, because I love you so much. I want to believe you when you say I’m the only one…”

  He wrapped both arms around her. “You are, sweetheart. I swear you are.”

  “I don’t know how to get past it.”

  “Rosemary suggested you come in with me to figure that out. Would you be willing?”

  “Yes, of course. If she thinks she can help us, I want to do it.”

  “Oh, good,” he said, breathing a sigh of relief. “That’s good.”

  “Did you think I wouldn’t want to?”

  “I wasn’t sure. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you were over me.”

&n
bsp; She drew back from him and looked up, her face tearstained, her eyes big. “I’m not over you. I want to put this behind us so we can get on with our lives. I’ve… I’ve missed you, Avery.”

  Bending his head, he captured her lips in a sweet, soft kiss, the first one in longer than he could remember. “I’ve missed you too, sweetheart. We’re going to put this back on track. I swear.”

  She burrowed into his embrace, seeming as desperate to be close to him as he was to be close to her. As long as she clung to him, he had hope that they could get past their troubles.

  * * *

  NICK WAS ON his way out of the White House to head home when he encountered his longtime friend, Derek Kavanaugh, President Nelson’s deputy chief of staff.

  “Could I have a word please, Mr. Vice President?”

  The formality rankled him, even though he knew it was necessary within these four walls. “Of course.”

  Nick followed Derek to a conference room and shut the door behind them while Brant stood watch outside. “What’s up?”

  “We heard you were called to testify, and the president is wondering what you’re going to say.”

  “If I testify, I’ll answer the questions I’m asked truthfully.”

  “What do you mean if?”

  “My inclination is to refuse their kind invitation to tell my side of the story.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to be president, not like this anyway. If I go up to the Hill and answer their questions, he won’t be able to recover.”

  “He swears to God that he had nothing to do with Christopher’s plot. He and Mrs. Nelson are horrified by what their son did.”

  “So he’s said. Several times now.”

  “You don’t believe him?”

  “Do you?”

  “Yeah, I do. I’ve known him a long time, worked closely with him for years, and I’ve never seen any inkling of the sort of evil that would have to be present in a person to threaten the lives of innocent children. Not to mention the rest of it.”

  “You mean torturing my wife’s ex-husband or hiring my deadbeat mother to smear me?”

  “Yeah, that too. It’s not how he’s wired, Nick.”

  “I’m not the one you need to convince. Congress is running this show. Not me.”