Fatal Accusation
Page 11
“You’re not? That’s something the rest of the world is pretty clear on.”
Chavez signaled to another officer to move the cruiser that was blocking the road.
“Have a nice day, Officer, and thank you for the interdepartmental cooperation.”
“Fuck you.”
Laughing, Sam hit the gas and took off, honking the horn as she went by him. “God, that was fun.”
“Look at you. Making friends everywhere we go.”
“I know! I’m like little Miss Mary Sunshine.”
Freddie laughed and then coughed, trying to hide the laugh.
“You find that funny, Detective?”
“Not at all, Lieutenant. I think it’s the perfect nickname for you.”
“Glad you agree. I’m not sure what I do to stir the ire of people I’ve never even met.”
“You’re good at your job. That irritates the old boys’ club.”
“He was a young boy.”
“Probably raised by one of the dinosaurs who thinks women belong in the kitchen and not on the job.”
“I like that explanation better than him taking an immediate and intense dislike to me simply because I was trying to do my job.”
“You’re also high profile, married to the VP, running around without a detail and generally the kind of badass they all want to be when their nuts let down.”
Sam parked two doors down from the Weber home, shut off the engine and then looked over at her partner, somewhat stunned by his unusually forceful language.
“What?” he asked. “It’s the truth. They hate the fact that you’re the kind of rock star they could only dream of being someday.”
“Thank you.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t say anything you don’t already know.”
“It just means a lot to know you have my back.”
“Always.”
CHAPTER TEN
THEY GOT OUT of the car and walked toward the house, where the driveway was full of cars.
“The nuts letting down was a nice touch.”
He laughed. “You liked that, huh?”
“Yep. I mean, the guy still had acne, and he was busting my balls?”
“When will they ever learn that it’s pointless to argue with you?”
Sam pretended to be verklempt, dabbing at her eyes. “I’m just so proud of my little grasshopper. I need to give you a certificate or something to indicate that your training is complete, and you are fluent in the language known as Sam Holland.”
“I thought you said my training would never be complete?”
“That was before I realized you were gifted and talented.”
They stopped walking at the foot of the sidewalk that led to the front door of a large white colonial with black shutters. Sam took in the leafy neighborhood full of big houses and expensive cars. “Looks like a nice place to grow up.”
“Is it okay to say I hate this? That we have to go in there and bother these people at a time like this?”
“It’s okay to say because I hate it too. Let’s get it over with so we can finish this endless day.”
“I’m with you, LT.”
Sam led the way to the door and rang the doorbell.
A young man with Tara’s coloring answered it.
Sam flashed her badge through the storm door.
His eyes widened with recognition that he quickly schooled as he opened the door a crack. “This isn’t a good time.”
“I apologize for intruding, but we need to speak to Mr. and Mrs. Weber.”
“They aren’t seeing anyone right now.”
In the kindest possible tone, Sam said, “Don’t make me say this is a Homicide investigation and if need be, we’ll take them in to be questioned downtown. I don’t want to have to say that.”
They engaged in a stare down that Sam won when he blinked.
“Wait here.” The inside door slammed shut.
“Was it something I said?” Sam asked.
“It usually is.”
“What the hell time is it anyway?”
“Almost six thirty.”
“Ugh, at this rate the twins will be in bed before I get home. I hate when I don’t get to see them.”
“It’s working out well with them?”
“So far, so good. They seem to like being with us, and we sure as hell love them.”
“Has Elijah said what his plans are?” Freddie asked of the twins’ older brother, who was their legal guardian.
“He told Nick that he has no plans to take them from us, even after he graduates from college. He’s hoping to get a job in DC so he can have them on weekends and spend holidays with us.”
“That must’ve been a relief.”
“Yeah, we were glad to hear that he’s not going to uproot them in eighteen months.”
“He’ll be a twenty-two-year-old recent college grad. What’s he going to do with two seven-year-olds?”
“Exactly. We’re just relieved that he gets it.”
“He’s lucky to have you guys, and he knows it.”
“What the hell are they doing in there?” Sam was about to ring the doorbell again when the inside door opened.
The same guy pushed open the storm door. “Come in.”
Sam and Freddie stepped into the foyer.
“I’m Lieutenant Holland. This is my partner, Detective Cruz. And you are?”
“Tara’s cousin Ben. Her parents are Charles and Diana—and yes, we know that’s funny. They’re in rough shape, as you can imagine. I can only ask that you be gentle with them. We’re all in shock.”
“I understand. Does Tara have other siblings?”
He shook his head. “She was their only child.”
Ugh, Sam thought. Extra devastating. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. I’ll take you to them.” Ben led them down a hallway to a family room in the back of the house where a good-looking older couple, both with gray hair, sat together on a sofa, surrounded by people.
“Ben.” Sam stopped him before they stepped into the room.
He turned to her.
“Can you please clear the room for us?”
“Yeah, okay.” He went ahead of them. “Excuse me, everyone, but could you please give my aunt and uncle a moment to speak to the officers?”
The people filed past them, each taking a good long look at Sam as they went by. She thought of how Nick often said that being vice president—and second lady—must be what it was like to be a goldfish swimming around in a bowl where everyone can see you.
“Uncle Charlie, Aunt Di, this is Lieutenant Holland and Detective Cruz.”
“Thank you so much for seeing us.” Sam tried to be as polite and caring as possible toward the secondary victims of murder, but her goal was always getting justice for the primary victim. “We’re so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” Mrs. Weber said. “Do you know yet what happened to our daughter?”
“We know she was strangled in her bed. We’re working the case and following the leads. It’s early yet.”
“It’s not a coincidence, is it,” Mr. Weber asked, “that the news of her affair with the president came out and days later she’s dead?”
“We don’t know that yet, sir.”
He scoffed. “Please. Don’t insult my intelligence. How can it not be related?”
“Naturally, our thinking matches yours, but in my years of working homicides, I’ve learned not to jump to conclusions until the evidence supports them. Right now, we have nothing tying her murder to the president or anyone in his circle.”
“It’s only a matter of time,” Mr. Weber said, his tone rife with bitterness.
“Were you aware of the affair before it was made public?” Sam asked.
&nbs
p; “She finally told us about it two days before the rest of the world found out,” Mrs. Weber said. “Needless to say, we were as shocked as everyone else.”
“She didn’t tell us because she knew we wouldn’t approve of her carrying on with a married man, not to mention someone like him,” Mr. Weber said.
“I take it you aren’t a fan of the president?” Sam asked.
“I used to be, until his son was charged with murder. After that, I thought he was a scumbag like the rest of them.”
Sam wanted to remind him that their investigation had concluded that the president and first lady had had no knowledge of their son’s activities, but Mr. Weber certainly had that information and had made up his mind accordingly. “Did Tara indicate any fear or concern for her life?”
“Not to us,” Mrs. Weber said. “Mostly she seemed ashamed to have her good name and ours dragged through the mud that’s been flying since the news of the affair went public. She was mortified to be at the center of a scandal.”
Sam wanted to ask what Tara thought would happen when she had an affair with the president that possibly led to a baby, but she bit her tongue.
“She was a star,” Mrs. Weber said softly. “From the time she was a little girl, she excelled at everything she did. She went to Cornell and UPenn Law on full scholarships, ran her own consulting practice. And when her company was hired by the Nelson campaign...” Mrs. Weber dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “We were so proud. Our daughter was working for the president of the United States.”
“Needless to say, we were disappointed to hear of her involvement with Nelson, but we supported and loved our daughter without reservation,” Mr. Weber added.
“So she hadn’t told you who the baby’s father was?”
“She said the baby had resulted from a brief relationship that was now over,” Mrs. Weber said.
“And her son is with you?”
“He is,” she said. “And he will remain with us.”
Sam wondered if they were in for a fight with the baby’s father if he turned out not to be the president. That would add fuel to the media frenzy. “Was there anyone in Tara’s life who might’ve been put out by the news that she’d had an affair and possibly a child with the president?”
The couple exchanged glances before Mr. Weber shook his head.
Sam’s lie radar registered a hit. “It would be far easier for all of us, yourselves included, if you tell me what I need to know now, rather than forcing me to come back when I uncover what you’re not telling me.”
“It’s her personal business,” Mrs. Weber said.
“This is a Homicide investigation, ma’am. Her personal business is now my personal business. I assume your goals and mine are the same—to get justice for Tara.”
“Of course that’s our goal,” Mr. Weber snapped. “But we don’t want our daughter’s reputation besmirched any further than it’s already been.”
“I’m afraid it’s going to probably get worse before it gets better,” Sam said gently. “This is a huge story, and it got even bigger when she was found murdered. If you know something, tell me now so we can move forward in the investigation. The sooner we can close the case, the sooner we can allow Tara to rest in peace.”
They looked at each other again.
“Her ex-boyfriend, Bryce Massey, would’ve been upset by the affair,” Mrs. Weber said.
“How long were they together?”
“Six years, on and off. They finally called it quits right before she joined the Nelson campaign.”
“Who called it off?”
“He did. She wanted to get married. He didn’t. They were in different places, and Tara was getting impatient waiting for him to catch up. She wanted children, and he didn’t. He told her she needed to move on because she wanted things from him he wasn’t willing to give.” Her mom’s eyes filled with tears. “From the time she was a young girl, she always wanted to be a mother.” She shook her head. “She was so happy since the baby arrived. In the midst of all the controversy, she saw only him.”
“Her assistant said they came to stay with you after the story broke?” Freddie asked.
Mrs. Weber nodded. “She said she had to run home to get more clothes, and when she never came back and wasn’t answering her phone, we called Delany to check on her. She was close by and had a key to the apartment.”
“I see,” Freddie said. “What time did she leave here?”
“Around noon,” Mrs. Weber said. “She planned to be back for Jackson’s next feeding at two.”
“Did anyone else have a key to her apartment?” Sam asked.
“We did, and her next-door neighbor did. Tara had a key to his place too.”
“And what’s his name?”
Mrs. Weber shook her head. “Brian is out of the country for work. Has been for a month now. They were good friends, so I sent him a text to let him know what happened. He’s devastated and trying to get home.”
“Where would we find Bryce?”
“He didn’t kill her,” Mr. Weber said. “He loved her. Their relationship didn’t work out, but he would never harm her.”
“And where would we find him?” Sam asked, meeting his glare with her own.
“He lives in the District,” Mrs. Weber said. “Not far from Tara.”
“Any other keys out there that you know of?” Sam asked.
“Bryce had one when they were together,” Mrs. Weber said. “I’m sure Tara got it back when they split.”
“Do you know that for certain?”
“I don’t,” she said, “but Tara was a stickler for safety. She would’ve asked for her key back.”
Sam wondered if he’d made a copy.
“Can you think of anyone else who might’ve had a beef with your daughter? Even something small... You’d be surprised at the unbelievably petty motives for murder we’ve seen.”
“When she was first in business, she had a partner,” Mr. Weber said. “Paige Thompson. She later left the company and we never heard why. Tara refused to talk about it, and after a while, we stopped asking.”
“Where would we find her?” Sam asked.
“We have no idea where she is now,” Mrs. Weber said. “We haven’t seen her in years.”
It was a long shot, but they would track down Ms. Thompson and find out where she’d been when Tara was murdered.
“Is there anything else you can think of that might be relevant?”
“Only that she’d been distracted in the last few months,” Mrs. Weber said. “We chalked it up to pregnancy, but now I wonder if it wasn’t something else.”
“Can you give us her cell number?” Sam asked, writing it down as Tara’s mother recited it. “You weren’t tracking her by any chance, were you?”
“No, we weren’t.”
That would’ve been too simple, Sam thought. “Her cell phone wasn’t located in a surface search of her apartment, so we’re looking for it.” Sam asked for a number where they could be reached and handed her card to Mrs. Weber. “If you think of anything else, please let me know. My cell number is on there, and you should feel free to call me at any time.”
Sam glanced at Freddie and then returned her gaze to the Webers. “We’re going to need a sample of the baby’s DNA.”
“Why?” Mr. Weber asked, immediately on guard.
“The baby’s paternity could factor into the investigation.”
He looked to his wife. “I’m not sure we should do that. What if the president tries to take him from us?”
“I’m sorry that I have to make a difficult situation more so for you, but I’ll get a warrant if need be.”
Both Webers seemed to sag when she mentioned the warrant.
“Fine,” he said, his teeth gritted with outrage.
“I’ll send someone out to get it tomorrow.”
She stood to leave, and Freddie followed her lead. “We appreciate your cooperation at this difficult time.”
“Will you keep us informed of what you learn?” Mr. Weber asked.
“To the best of our ability.”
He didn’t like that answer, but it was all she had.
When they were outside, Sam turned to Freddie. “Call in Tara’s phone number to Archie.” Sam wasn’t sure what the IT detectives could do to track down the phone, but Lieutenant Archelotta and his team would do what they could.
“Already texted it to him.”
“I want to see the ex-boyfriend tonight.”
“Had a feeling you might say that.” He held up his phone. “Found his address.”
“Have I mentioned you’re the best partner I ever had?”
“A few times, but feel free to repeat yourself anytime. It never gets old.”
They got into the car, with Sam driving. “I’m sure it gets old when everyone else gets to go home on time, and you’re stuck with me.”
“I don’t mind.”
“I’m sure your wife does.”
“She knew who she was marrying. She gets it.”
Thankfully, the traffic returning to the city wasn’t as bad as it had been on the way out to Herndon, and they made good time, arriving at Bryce’s address just after seven thirty.
“Let’s make this quick,” Sam said. “I’m ready to call it a day.”
“You and me both, LT.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
BRYCE LIVED IN a townhome near Rock Creek Park. Sam went up the stairs and rang the doorbell. After being recently shot at through a closed door, she was warier than she’d been in the past and kept an eye on the beveled glass door, watching for movement from within before she rang the bell again.
She peered through the window and saw nothing but darkness. “It would’ve been too easy if he’d been home.”
“Help you with something?” a male voice called from the sidewalk.
Sam turned to see a good-looking, dark-haired man wearing an overcoat over a suit. His eyes went wide when he recognized her.
“Are you Bryce Massey?”
“I am.”
Sam and Freddie went down the stairs and showed their badges.