Fatal Chaos

by Marie Force

  “All eyes are on you, and you have to know that. I heard Halliwell called you about a VP.”

  “Where’d you hear that?”

  “From Halliwell.”

  “I’ll tell you the same thing I told him. I’m not talking about a potential VP until I have to, and we’re a long way from that.”

  “I don’t know if we are.”

  “What does that mean?” Nick asked, immediately on guard.

  “Nelson is talking more about what’s best for the country.”

  “And?”

  “He’s considering all his options, up to and including resigning.”

  “He can’t do that.”

  “Well, actually he can, and I can assure you he’ll put the country ahead of himself. The latest polls show the American people have lost confidence in his leadership since his son’s arrest. He’s taking those numbers to heart.”

  A sense of panic, the kind he only felt when Sam was in danger, seized Nick. “What happened to his plan to fight to the finish?”

  “We might be staring down the finish line,” Derek said grimly.

  Nick took a closer look at his longtime friend and noticed how exhausted he seemed. The controversy had taken a toll on a lot of people. “I don’t want him to resign.”

  “It might not be up to you.”

  “It was my family that was threatened, and if I don’t want him to resign, that should count for something.”

  “I’m sure it would, if you were to say so publicly, but you’ve been stubbornly silent for weeks. No one knows where you stand.”

  And here they’d arrived at the point of this conversation. “Are you asking me to make a statement?”

  “I’m suggesting a statement from both of you might not be a bad idea, unless, of course, you’re eager to be president. Soon.”

  Nick’s gaze locked with Derek’s. Neither of them blinked for the longest time.

  Finally, Nick looked away. “I’ll consult with my team.”

  Derek nodded and moved toward the door.

  “Derek.”

  He turned back.

  “If he is forced to resign, I hope I can count on your support.”

  “You always have my support, Nick. You know that.” He walked out, leaving Nick alone to consider the massive implications of what he’d been told. Before he did anything, he needed to talk to Sam. The damage done by Christopher Nelson had a much bigger impact on her, since her ex-husband had been murdered, her nieces and nephews threatened.

  Despite the president’s assurances about his innocence, nagging doubts remained. If he was involved, Nick hated the idea of handing him a pass. He ought to be forced to resign if he’d been involved in the commission of murder and other felonies, which is why Nick hesitated to support the president who’d picked him to be his vice president hoping to boost his own popularity. Since then, he’d treated Nick like a lowly servant rather than a partner in governing. Technically, he owed the guy nothing.

  On the way home, he continued to consider his options. When the motorcade pulled onto Ninth Street, he saw Sam getting out of Freddie’s old Mustang and was surprised to see her home so early. He didn’t wait for Brant to open the door. Rather, he jumped out and stopped short at the sight of the massive bruise on her swollen face.

  “What the hell happened?”

  “Hello, dear. How was your day?”

  “Samantha…”

  “So, there was this cop, you see, who wasn’t where he was supposed to be, and our investigation into the shootings uncovered his extramarital affair. As the father of five children with another on the way, he wasn’t too happy with me, seeing as how he’s now in trouble at home and work. One thing led to another, and here we are.”

  His eyes flashing with fury, Nick said, “He hit you?”

  “He did.”

  Nick took her by the arm and marched her up the ramp, past the stunned agent at the door, who did a double take at the sight of her face.

  “Is everything all right, sir?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Nick said through gritted teeth. Just another day in my life with Samantha Holland Cappuano, he wanted to say. He directed her into the kitchen and sat her in a chair.

  That she was so unusually agreeable to being manhandled alarmed him and had him wondering if she was more hurt than she’d let on. In the freezer, he found an ice pack that he held to her face. “Tell me he’s in trouble.”

  “Uh-huh. They suspended him.”

  “And charged him, I hope?”

  “I asked them not to.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because I wasn’t charged for punching Ramsey. If I insist on charges against Offenbach, everyone will scream favoritism.”

  “Ramsey deserved it. You did not.”

  “And you’re not even slightly biased.”

  “No, I’m not. It’s not your fault this guy wasn’t where he was supposed to be or that he was off having an affair, and it was definitely Ramsey’s fault that he said you got what you deserved from Stahl.”

  “I’m batting a thousand this week with three officers suspended because of me.”

  “Ramsey, Offenbach and who else?”

  “Conklin.”

  He pulled the ice pack from her face. “What happened with him?”

  Sam explained how Conklin had hidden the fact that a retired officer was missing for two weeks.

  “Why would he do that?”

  “He was concerned that Wallack had fallen off the wagon after years of sobriety and was trying to protect him.”

  “Damn.”

  “Yeah, so as you can see, I’m really racking up the points with my colleagues.”

  Nick sat in the chair next to her and gently applied the ice pack to her face. “Each of them did this to themselves, Sam. Conklin hid the fact that the retired guy was missing. The other was with his mistress when he was supposed to be somewhere else, and Ramsey lost his shit when he heard you weren’t going to be indicted. You didn’t do any of those things. They did.”

  “I know,” she said, shoulders sagging with dejection that alarmed him.

  “Do you? Do you really know that they all got in trouble because of stuff they did?”

  “Yeah, I guess. I just hate how trouble seems to find me in that department when I’m only trying to do my job.”

  “You’re up against several tough obstacles. One, the old boys’ network resents a woman as successful as you are at your job. Two, your father’s legacy in the department makes for a tough slog for you. And three, you do the right thing all the time, even when it’s not the easy thing to do. That’s more than they can say.”

  Sam smiled at him.

  “What?” he asked, annoyed for some reason.

  “Nothing. I just love you.”

  He leaned his forehead against hers. “That’s good because I just love you too.”

  “Thanks for sticking up for me.”

  “I’ll always stick up for you.”

  “I know. That’s why I wanted to come home. I needed a little dose of you after a rough day.”

  “Is your rough day over?”

  “For now. We’re closing in on these guys, building a case. We’ve got DNA from the car and the attack on Angel, we’ve got a sketch artist working with her, and she heard one of the attackers get a call that his mother had died, so we’re taking her to wakes hoping to find them.”

  “That’s a genius idea.”

  “It’s my genius idea.”

  “Of course it is.” After a moment of silence, he said, “How’s your face feeling?”

  “Numb.”

  Nick removed the ice pack, wincing at the huge bruise that extended from her mouth to her eye, which was swelling shut.

  “We don’t have any official White House shit comin
g up do we? Because I don’t think Tracy’s stage makeup could cover this mess.”

  Nick laughed, even though there was nothing funny about seeing her injured—again. “No, nothing this week, but I had an interesting conversation with Derek this afternoon.” He filled her in on what his friend had said.

  “So they’re thinking if we publicly back Nelson then maybe he can hold on to his presidency?”

  “That’s the general idea.”

  “How do you feel about that?”

  “I have mixed feelings. Part of me doesn’t believe for a second that he didn’t know, but a bigger part of me doesn’t want to be president. Not now anyway—and not like this.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Derek said it would have to come from both of us, seeing as how your ex-husband was killed and your family members threatened too. What do you think?”

  “Before we decide anything, I’d want to meet with the Nelsons. I want to see their eyes when they tell us they knew nothing about it. I’ll know if they’re lying.”

  “That’s a great idea. I’ll ask Terry to set it up, and we’ll go from there.”

  “Will you still have to testify?”

  “I’ve let them know I’m uninterested in testifying at this time.”

  “What did they say to that?”

  “Nothing yet. Unless they subpoena me to appear, I won’t say a word to anyone. Not until after we see the whites of the Nelsons’ eyes and my detective tells me whether we can trust them when they say they didn’t know.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “You know me. I could always eat. My ass is living proof of that.”

  “I love your ass. Don’t you dare speak poorly of my favorite ass.” He got up to see what Shelby had left for them. In the fridge, he found a covered dish with instructions to heat at 375 for thirty minutes. Lifting the foil, his mouth watered at the sight of enchiladas.

  “What is it?” Sam asked.

  “Enchiladas.”

  Her moan had him thinking of things other than food. “That’ll go straight to my ass.”

  “More for me to love.” He put the dish in the oven and turned it on. “Thirty minutes. Drink?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Nick opened a bottle of white wine and poured them both a glass, bringing them to the table where he rejoined her. “Does it hurt?”

  “Not too bad. We probably ought to let our White House people know that the press is going to be buzzing about why the second lady’s face is bruised and swollen. I don’t want anyone saying you did it.”

  Nick blanched at the thought of anyone saying such a thing. “I hate living in a world where we have to worry about that.”

  “As do I, but it is the world we live in.” Sam withdrew her phone and called Lilia Van Nostrand, her chief of staff at the White House.

  “Mrs. Cappuano,” Lilia said.

  “Sam.” They had this “argument” almost every time they spoke.

  “Yes, ma’am. What can I do for you?”

  “If you’re not busy, I wondered if you might stop by the house tonight to discuss a few things.”

  “Of course. What time is good for you?”

  “Any time after seven-thirty.”

  “I’ll be there. I look forward to seeing you.”

  “Me too.” Slapping her phone closed, Sam laughed, and then winced. “She looks forward to seeing me. Wait until she gets a load of the mess on my face.”

  “She’s learned to expect just about anything where you’re concerned.”

  Sam’s eyes lit up the way they did when she was excited about something. “I’m having the most awesome idea.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I really think we should ask Harry over to check my face,” she said with a calculating look. “I mean, it could be another concussion.”

  Nick eyed her skeptically. “What’re you up to, Samantha?”

  “I haven’t heard a word from Lilia or Harry about whether they ever got together. I need information.”

  “You’re shameless, babe. And PS, what happened to not wanting your world to collide with mine?” She’d been less than thrilled at first when Lindsey got together with Terry and Gonzo with Christina, but she’d gotten over their worlds colliding eventually. For the most part anyway.

  “Please. Lilia and Harry are both from your world.”

  Nick laughed at the disdainful way she said that.

  “Where’s my kid anyway?” she asked.

  “He must be upstairs since his motorcade is out there,” Nick said. “What do you suppose the odds are that he’s doing his homework?”

  “Slim to none. If he’s a smart man, he’s napping while he can.”

  He scowled at her. “I’ll go see what he’s up to. Try not to get injured or maimed or anything else while I’m gone.”

  “I’ll try my best to stay out of trouble.”

  “That’ll be the day.” Nick went upstairs to knock on the door to Scotty’s room, nodding to Darcy, the agent on duty in the hallway. When there was no answer, he stuck his head in to find his son sound asleep. He had to laugh. Sam had called that. Since they had a little time before dinner, he left him to sleep and went back downstairs. “You called it. He’s napping.”

  “That’s my boy.”

  “He’ll never go to college at this rate.”

  “Yes, he will. He’s going to be a rock star just like his dad.”

  “If his mother doesn’t ruin him first.”

  “Despite my bluster, I do have two degrees, I’ll have you know. How many do you have, nerd boy?” She raised the brow on the side of her face that wasn’t swollen.

  “One less than you.” Smiling, Nick took a sip from his wineglass. “I have a hard time picturing you in graduate school.”

  “It wasn’t pretty, but I got the piece of paper, which is more than you can say, I might add.”

  “Ouch. Low blow, babe. I am the vice president of the United States, you know.”

  “Am I supposed to be impressed by that?”

  He laughed. “Please don’t be. It’s a huge drag.”

  Sam’s phone rang, and she took the call, mouthing the word Malone to him. At least it wasn’t Dispatch. “Hey, what’s up?” She listened for a minute, her focus intent on whatever the captain was telling her. “Let’s get it right to the lab. I want confirmation that these are the same guys who had the first car and assaulted Angel.” She listened some more. “I’m fine. It’s gonna be a hell of a bruise, though.”

  “Already is,” Nick mumbled.

  “How are the sketch artists making out with Angel?” She sighed. “Maybe she’ll feel more up to it tomorrow.”

  After listening, she sat up straighter, and her breathing changed. “Like what? Why didn’t the wife tell us that?” After a pause, she said, “I like where this is heading. Keep me posted and call me if anything else pops.” She slapped the phone closed. “They found the red SUV abandoned downtown, and it turns out that Wallack has a stepson from his first marriage who’s been in a lot of trouble over the years. The detectives working the missing persons case are trying to track him down.”

  “Those are good developments.”

  “Yeah, it’s moving in the right direction. I just hope no one else has to die before we nail these bastards.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  AFTER DINNER WITH Nick and Scotty, Sam took to the sofa with a fresh ice pack, not that it did much to alleviate the swelling that had her eye nearly closed. She took a call from Jeannie.

  “What’s up?”

  “How’s your face?”

  “Ugly and swollen.”

  “I hope he gets in a lot of trouble.”

  “He was already in a lot of trouble before he hit me. What’s going on?”r />
  “I wanted to tell you that I have leads on three local wakes tomorrow for women in the age range we’re looking for. Ironically, all of them have sons with names that start with the letter D. I sent you an email with all the info.”

  “Good work. Keep your eye out for more that may come online overnight.”

  “Will do. I also wanted to tell you that I went back to the hospital just now and brought Michael with me this time. We had a good talk with Angel and Roberto and made ourselves available to them for anything they need going forward. I hope it helped a little.”

  “I’m sure it helped a lot. Thanks for doing that, Jeannie.”

  “Thanks for asking me. It’s good for my recovery to know I might be helping someone else. But enough about me. This thing with Offenbach is just unreal. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine. Just a little damage to my ugly mug. Fortunately, there’re no state dinners or other public obligations on the calendar for the next week or two.”

  “It’s unbelievable that he thinks he can just assault you that way.”

  “He’s in a lot of trouble and needs someone to blame. I was handy.”

  “Carlucci told me his wife kicked him out and is filing for divorce and sole custody of the kids.”

  “She didn’t waste any time.”

  “Would you if you were her? Five kids and a sixth on the way, and he’s off having an affair?”

  “A, I never have to worry about my husband doing what hers did, and B, I’d do the same thing if I were in her shoes, which I will never be.”

  “So would I. Although I’m too newly married to ever even consider such a thing. I feel sick for her. Six children and he’s off having a fling. It’s disgusting. Everyone is talking about it at HQ.”

  “There’re plenty of other skeletons in closets in that building. People should keep their yaps shut.”

  “Um, yeah, the day that happens around here there’ll also be pigs flying in hell.”

  Sam chuckled. “Very true.”

  The agent working the front door admitted Lilia, and Sam waved her in. She wore a sharp-looking yellow summer suit with sky-high heels and her trademark pearls. Her dark hair was cut into a chin-length bob and her brown eyes conveyed warmth and affection. Sam had been prepared to despise her, but had grown to adore Lilia for her sense of style, her insane organization skills, her insider knowledge of Washington’s inner workings and her willingness to roll with the craziness Sam had brought to her well-ordered life since becoming second lady.