Fatal Accusation

by Marie Force

“Conklin.”

  “That may never make sense to us.”

  “It’s unfathomable to me that he sat on this info for all this time. Skip was one of ours. He was Conklin’s friend. Skip took him in when Conklin was at his lowest point and saved his career. How could he do this to Skip? To us?”

  “We may never know the answer to that, Cap.”

  “Maybe we will.”

  Sam tipped her head.

  “He wants to see you.”

  Her immediate, visceral response was no fucking way. She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m not sure I could resist the urge to spit in his face.”

  “No one would blame you if you did.”

  “I don’t need the publicity of the second lady behaving badly—again.”

  He leaned forward, elbows on knees, eyes imploring. “Don’t you want to know, Sam?”

  She slapped her hand on the desktop. “Hell, yes, I want to know, but I’m not sure I can sit in a room with the man who knew all along what happened to my dad and kept it to himself. I might actually be tempted to murder him.”

  Malone sat back, his shoulders sagging with uncharacteristic defeat. “Believe me, I get it.”

  “I’m trying to survive this, you know?”

  “Yeah, I get that too.”

  “I’ll think about seeing him. That’s all I’ve got right now. It’s a big deal for me to get out of bed.”

  “It’s new. It’ll get easier.”

  “So they say. At the moment? Not so good.”

  “I don’t mean to make it harder on you than it already is.”

  “You’re not the one doing that. He is. He’s been doing that for years now.”

  “His arrest has created an opening. The chief asked me if I’m interested in being promoted, but I don’t know. Part of me doesn’t want it.”

  “How come?”

  “I like what I’m doing now, supervising the detectives. Being deputy chief is all about schmoozing at City Hall and overseeing the budget and admin shit that’d drive me mad.”

  “You’re the ranking captain, so you get first right of refusal. Who’s next in line?” She paid zero attention to such things because she didn’t give a rat’s ass about anything other than her own cases and her own squad and the colleagues she worked with regularly. Getting caught up in department politics had never been her jam.

  “Nickleson from SWAT.”

  “He’d be a good deputy chief.”

  “The mayor wants a woman.”

  “Does the mayor understand that these things are done by rank and seniority?”

  “The chief explained how it works to her, and she insisted that it’s time for a woman—and a woman of color at that—to be considered.”

  “I agree with that. We need more women in general in the upper ranks since we already run the world.”

  He grunted out a laugh. “I’m all for that, and so is the chief. But there’s a protocol in place, for better or worse, and we can’t ignore the people who’ve put in the time on the job. All the current captains are men, which is a damned shame, but let’s face it, the mayor could decide to put you in the job if she wanted to, and it would be hard for us to tell her no.”

  “Dear God, let’s hope she doesn’t get an idea like that.”

  “From your lips to God’s ears.”

  Sam scowled at him. “We’ve got a few female lieutenants who’re going to run the place in a couple of years, but we need to do better in advancing women, especially women of color, in this department.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “Officer Charles,” Sam said, referring to the young black officer who’d assisted in the planning of her father’s police funeral.

  “What about her?”

  “She impressed the shit out of me with her organization skills and attention to detail during my dad’s funeral.”

  “It’s not easy to impress you.”

  “No, it isn’t. She’s going to be the chief someday. Mark my words. I’d love to have her as my assistant, if she’d like the job, that is.”

  “She reports to the chief. You’d have to fight him for her, and besides, you have an entire squad to assist you.”

  “You guys are always after me to get the reports done faster, and with my dyslexia, that’s not easy for me.”

  “You’re actually playing the dyslexia card?”

  “Yes, because it’s convenient for me.”

  Malone barked out a laugh that was a welcome relief from his earlier morose demeanor. Even in the worst of times, Sam counted on her mentor, boss and friend to be upbeat and positive. He helped to keep her spirits up when they took a beating like they had lately.

  “I’ll talk to the chief about your interest in working with Officer Charles.”

  “Thank you. Any updates on the Stahl trial?”

  “I heard the defense will rest today or tomorrow, and then it’ll go to the jury. Almost there.”

  “If they don’t convict him...”

  “How can they not convict him? He wrapped you in razor wire and threatened to set you on fire.”

  “He would’ve succeeded in setting me on fire if you guys hadn’t shown up when you did. Took you long enough, by the way.”

  He scowled. “It took us a while to figure out where you were—alone—and without a cell phone that could be tracked.”

  “Mistakes were made. I’ll give you that.”

  “Good of you to acknowledge that.”

  “I want to dig in further on that anonymous note we got that info about my father’s shooter was closer than we thought and we needed to look inside our own house.”

  “We had the letter thoroughly analyzed.”

  “I know, but someone knew about Conklin. I want to know who.”

  “What’re you thinking?”

  “I’d like to talk to his wife, for starters.”

  “She’s apt to lawyer up when she hears you’re coming.”

  “Let her. All I can do is ask the questions. I don’t know her at all though.” For whatever reason, Conklin’s second wife had never socialized with their group or been with him when he visited Skip. At times, Sam had forgotten Conklin was actually married.

  “I’ll go with you. I know her a little. I’ll set it up.” He stood, seeming infused with purpose now that he had a mission.

  “Hey, Cap?”

  Malone turned back to her, raised a brow.

  “I know it’s hard, but we all have to find a way to survive this or we won’t be able to do the job or anything else, for that matter. I refuse to give these people any more than they’ve already taken from me, and you shouldn’t either.”

  “That’s good advice, and I’ll keep it in mind as I work to keep the cauldron of rage inside me from boiling over.”

  “It helps to know that I’m not the only one contending with the cauldron of rage.”

  “You’re far from alone with this. A lot of people around here loved Skip and can’t make sense of what Conklin did—or didn’t do. It defies belief for those of us who wear the badge with pride. I’ll be back to you about the Mrs.”

  “Sounds good, thanks.”

  After he left, she picked up the photocopy of the anonymous note she had received after her father died, which had been nagging at her since they closed the case.

  Look inside your own “house” and City Hall. The answers are closer than you think.

  The note had been hastily scrawled in handwriting someone would recognize. “Cruz!”

  Freddie popped up from his cubicle and scowled at her. “What?”

  She returned his scowl. “Come here.”

  He came. “You bellowed?”

  “I did.” She held up the copy of the note. “We’re going to dig into this and figure out wh
ere it came from.”

  “Okay...”

  “I was just letting you know. Talk to the others about ideas of how we might approach this.”

  “Anything else, Your Majesty?”

  Sam smiled. “I like that nickname. You can call me that instead of lieutenant going forward.”

  “In your dreams.”

  “That’ll be all for now, young grasshopper.” For the rest of her life, she’d never forget how he’d cut short the honeymoon in Italy he’d looked forward to for months so he could be with her in the aftermath of her father’s death.

  Detective Cameron Green came to the door, stopping Freddie from leaving. As usual, Cameron wore a shirt and tie that made the rest of them look sloppy in comparison. To Sam, he said, “I just saw that the president is planning to speak at the daily press briefing. Thought you might want to see that.”

  She didn’t, really, but she got up to follow them into the conference room where Detective Jeannie McBride and her new partner, Detective Matt O’Brien, were already parked in front of the TV. Sam realized they were as concerned as she was about what would happen to her job and career if Nick were to become president.

  Her stomach began to ache when she saw the press secretary turn the podium over to President David Nelson. Tall with silver hair and blue eyes, Nelson was usually the picture of decorum and presidential demeanor. Today, he was visibly agitated and off his game.

  “Thank you for allowing me a minute of your time.” He kept his gaze down to avoid eye contact with the reporters. “I’m here today to confirm the reports of an extramarital affair with Tara Weber. Ms. Weber served as a policy analyst on my reelection team, and we became close while traveling together.” He looked up, and the emotions she saw swirling in his troubled eyes didn’t do much to calm her nerves. “The affair continued until shortly after the inauguration. Ms. Weber conceived a child, a son, who was born last week. I do not believe the child is mine.”

  Sam wondered how he could be so certain. Would the president have to take a paternity test? It was all so sordid.

  The press corps erupted with shouted questions.

  Nelson ignored them all. “I made a mistake having an affair,” he said, his voice breaking. “I made several of them, actually. I dishonored the promises I made to my wonderful, beautiful, supportive wife, Gloria, and disappointed her at a time when she needed me most. I’ve let down my family, Ms. Weber and the American people. For that, all I can do is apologize and promise to do better in the future.”

  As he stepped back from the podium, one of the reporters asked why Gloria had needed him most while another asked if he planned to resign, but he left the room without answering either question.

  “God, I hope he doesn’t resign,” Sam said, shuddering at the thought.

  The others laughed nervously.

  “Have you guys heard anything?” Jeannie asked.

  “Nothing official, but we’re holding our breath like everyone else.”

  “You just wonder how much scandal one administration can withstand before it becomes too much,” Cameron said.

  “True, but he took a big mea culpa just now, and that ought to help,” Freddie said. “At least he owned it rather than denying it the way so many of them do.”

  “His wife was undergoing treatment for ovarian cancer when he had the affair,” Sam said as the others gasped. “She’d chosen to keep the diagnosis private. That’s what he meant about the timing. I wonder how long it’ll take for her illness to become public now that he’s alluded to there being something to find.”

  “Damn,” O’Brien said. “What a scumbag.”

  “When that gets out, it could be game over for him,” Freddie said, looking stricken.

  “Let’s hope they’re able to keep a lid on that info,” Sam said. “In the meantime, we’ve got work to do. How’s it coming with finishing the reports on the Conklin, Gallagher, Santoro and Ryan arrests?”

  “Slowly.” Freddie answered for all of them. “We’re working with Vice, which is conducting the gambling portion of the investigation, and that’s what’s taking so long. They had thirty years’ worth of crap to sift through. Our part is mostly done. Just waiting on them.”

  “Send me what you have, and I’ll take a look.” Sam’s phone rang and she took the call from Nick, signaling to her team to get back to work. “Hey.”

  “How’s it going?”

  “I was just going to ask you the same thing.”

  “The West Wing is in chaos. I just saw Derek and he mentioned he’s thinking about resigning. He doesn’t want to work for Nelson anymore, and he’s not alone in that. People like Gloria, and they hate that he did this to her, especially when she was sick.”

  “That does make it that much more disgusting.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Please tell me you think he’s going to be able to hold on.”

  “I don’t know, Sam. If it gets out that Gloria was being treated for cancer while he was carrying on an affair with a staffer... I just don’t know.”

  “They’re not going to be able to keep a lid on that. Someone will leak it.”

  “That’s my fear as well.”

  His use of the word fear sent her anxiety spiking into the red zone.

  “Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the theater?” Sam asked.

  Nick’s husky laugh echoed through the phone, reminding her that no matter what happened, she still had him, and he would always have her. “What was I thinking accepting this job from hell?”

  “That’s a very good question.”

  “I’m sorry to have done this to us.”

  “Don’t say that. We both knew what we were getting into.” They’d had no idea, but he didn’t need to hear that. Not from her. “No matter what happens, we got this.”

  “You won’t leave me if I have to become president?”

  The question was asked in a teasing tone, but under the humor she sensed deeper concerns. “Are you for real right now? I recently spent one week without you while you were traveling, and I thought I was going to lose my shit. Do you honestly think there’s anything that could happen that would make me leave you?”

  “Just making sure.”

  “Nick...” That he could still wonder made her ache. “We’re going to discuss this further later.”

  “I’ll look forward to that.”

  “Until then, don’t worry about me. You’ve got enough to think about without stressing about things that’re never going to happen.”

  “Never?”

  Where was this coming from? “Never.” After a pause, she said, “Are we good now?”

  “We’re good.”

  “Call me if you need me, and hang in there. He survived a murdering son. Odds are good that he’ll get through this too.”

  “From your lips to God’s ears.”

  “Love you.”

  “Love you too, babe.”

  As Sam slapped her phone closed, unease trickled down her backbone. A sense of foreboding had her wondering just how dire the situation was for Nelson and his presidency. Nick didn’t use the word fear lightly. She placed a hand over her aching stomach. Before him, the thought of her fate being tied to any man’s would’ve made her laugh. Even when she was married to Peter, she did her own thing, which only added to the discontent in their marriage.

  But with Nick, his fate was hers, and whatever happened, they were in it together. When she got home tonight, she’d make sure he fully understood her commitment to him.

  If he became president, she’d have to give up her job. There’d be no way she could continue to run the streets chasing down murderers as first lady. The exposure was bad enough as second lady. Though the first lady wasn’t required to have Secret Service protection, the stakes would be even higher than they were now. Her lack of a detail as second l
ady had been a minor scandal that would turn into a circus if they were “promoted.”

  No, she’d have to step aside because the distractions would make it impossible to do the job her way. And while the thought of giving up the job she loved broke her heart, she’d do it to make life easier for him. Maybe it was time to tell him that, to make sure he knew that there was nothing she wouldn’t do for him, even give up the job that had defined her adult life.

  A job was just that—a job.

  But he... He was her whole world, and she couldn’t have him wondering if she’d leave him if he became president.

  That wouldn’t do at all.

  * * *

  “HOW BAD IS IT?” Nick asked Terry when he returned from a briefing with Nelson’s staff.

  “Bad.”

  “Ugh, do I want to hear this?”

  “No, you don’t.”

  Terry was one of the few people who knew that Nick had no real desire to be president, despite taking the vice president’s job when it was offered to him. Most politicians would’ve viewed it as a stepping stone to the most powerful job on earth, but Nick wasn’t most politicians. To be president, you needed a fire in the belly for the job that Nick didn’t have. Not now anyway. And the more he saw from his vantage point close to the presidency, the less he wanted it.

  “The Post is going to run a story within the hour detailing Gloria’s ongoing battle with ovarian cancer.”

  “Fuck,” Nick hissed under his breath.

  “I thought you might say that.”

  For a long moment, the two of them stared at each other as the implications settled on them like a thousand-pound weight.

  “My dad is on his way in with Halliwell,” Terry said, referring to the Democratic National Committee chairman.

  Nick shook his head. “Tell them not to come. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Don’t shoot the messenger, but when I told Halliwell you wouldn’t want to meet with him, his response was, ‘Too bad. This isn’t just about him.’ We need to take the meeting, and let them have their say. After that, we can do what we want.”

  “We’re not doing anything. I can’t believe we’re already back in this boat so soon after the last time.” When the scandal had erupted around Nelson’s son, Christopher, who’d gone so far as to torture Sam’s ex-husband to death looking for dirt on them, Nick thought he’d seen the precipice of disaster.