by Marie Force
“How long do you think we’ll have to stay here?” Graham asked.
“I wish I knew,” Nick said. “The FBI and Secret Service are doing everything they can to get to the bottom of it as quickly as possible.” After a pause, he continued. “Look, everyone, I know this sucks, and I feel so bad having to put you all through it, but I didn’t know what else to do after I saw those pictures when I was on the other side of the world.”
“You did the right thing, Nick,” Skip said. “The only thing you could do in light of those photos. In your shoes, I would’ve done the same.”
Sam could see that her father’s words helped to relieve some of Nick’s burden.
“I never would’ve gone to such extremes if I hadn’t thought it was necessary,” Nick said. “I hope you know that.”
“We do,” Celia said. “Of course we do, and you know, I was saying to Skip this morning that we need to make the best of this situation. How often do we get to spend this kind of time with the ones we love the most? Everyone is so busy and rushed these days. Let’s try to enjoy being together while they investigate.”
Sam smiled at her stepmother. Leave it to her to see the positive in an otherwise sucky situation. “I think that’s a great idea, Celia.”
“So you’re going to relax and enjoy the break from your real life?” Nick asked with a smile.
“Well, I meant everyone else should.”
The others laughed at her comment, which broke the tension somewhat. And then she noticed Scotty still staring at the picture of himself at camp. She nudged Nick and nodded toward their son.
“I’ll keep you all posted to the best of my ability.” Nick stood and went over to where Scotty sat. “Can I see you for a minute, buddy?”
Scotty looked up at him. “Um, yeah. Sure.”
Nick led Scotty into their bedroom.
Sam followed them and closed the door.
“Are you okay?” Nick asked.
“It’s just kinda weird, you know? That someone was watching me at baseball camp.”
“It’s really weird,” Nick said, “and you’re absolutely right to feel violated.”
“I guess I’m still getting used to all of this,” Scotty said. “People knowing who I am and stuff.”
Sam could see in Nick’s expression and the tense set of his shoulders how much he disliked being the reason that people now recognized their son.
“I’m sorry to have put you in that position. It’s a lot to ask of you and Mom and the rest of the family.”
“I’m not sorry,” Scotty said fiercely.
“You’re not?” Nick asked.
“Of course I’m not. You’re the best possible vice president we could have, and I don’t want you to feel bad. It’s not your fault that people are weird.”
Sam and Nick laughed, and the look her husband sent her made her heart ache with love for both of them.
“Thank you, buddy.” Nick took the photo of Scotty at camp from him and ripped it up. “Don’t ever forget that the Secret Service is watching over you no matter where you are. They’d never let the weirdos get anywhere near you.”
“I know. Don’t worry about me. I can handle it.”
Nick wrapped his arms around his son and hugged him. “I know you can, and that makes your mom and I very proud of you.”
Sam joined them in a group hug. Because she knew it would set Scotty off, she went up on tiptoes to kiss Nick over the boy’s head.
“Eww, gross! I’m right here!”
Sam laughed at his predictable reaction and made kissing noises behind Scotty’s back.
“I’m out.” Scotty scooted from between them and bolted for the door.
“He’s something else, that kid of ours,” Nick said.
“He certainly is. Just like his father.”
Nick smiled down at her, but she could see the weariness in the hollows under his eyes. Despite Scotty’s assurances, Nick wouldn’t truly rest until the FBI got to the bottom of the threat against their family.
* * *
WITH SAM OUT for God knew how long and Captain Malone on a personal day, Gonzo was asked to handle the morning media briefing on the floater and the results of the autopsy. Facing off with the ravenous media was never his favorite thing to do, and it was especially unpleasant with the sun beating down on him relentlessly. It took about four seconds to sweat through his shirt.
“At thirteen twenty-three yesterday, we received a 911 call about a body in the Anacostia River, just south of the John Philip Sousa Bridge. Tactical Response teams were dispatched to the scene, where a female victim was recovered. The body was brought back to headquarters and an autopsy performed by Chief Medical Examiner Dr. Lindsey McNamara. Dr. McNamara has determined the body is not that of missing college student Ruby Denton. I repeat, the body is not Ruby Denton.”
“How do you know that?” Darren Tabor from the Washington Star shouted.
“Ms. Denton’s dental records were provided by her family, and they are not a match for the victim in our morgue.”
“Then who is she?” Darren asked.
“We’re working to identify her at this time.”
“Why was it deemed necessary for the Secret Service to take Lieutenant Holland from the scene at the river?” another reporter asked.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss that.”
“Can you confirm it was the Secret Service who took her?”
“And where’s the vice president?” another asked. “The White House is refusing to confirm his whereabouts.”
“And you think I’m going to do that when they won’t?” Gonzo asked with a huff of incredulous laughter. “That’s it. We’re done here.”
While they continued to shout questions about the floater as well as Sam and Nick’s whereabouts, Gonzo turned away from the podium and went inside, thankful for the cool blast of air-conditioning that greeted him along with Chief Farnsworth.
“I can’t believe they expect me to tell them where the vice president is, as if that’s my job,” Gonzo said.
“You handled it well,” the chief said. “It’s not up to us to confirm or deny his whereabouts—or hers for that matter.”
“Has there been any word about where they are?”
“Not that I’ve heard.”
“What about Archie’s team? Have they picked up anything?”
“Nothing.”
“I don’t like this, sir. What if this entire thing is some sort of nefarious plot, and we’re sitting here with our thumbs up our asses?”
“That possibility kept me awake last night.”
Gonzo’s stomach dropped at that news. “So you think it’s fishy too?”
“I don’t know what to think. I’m planning to reach out to Sam’s White House staff today to find out whether the MPD should launch an official investigation.”
“Oh, I like that idea, sir. I like that a whole lot. They’ve got my son with them. I want him back. I want them all back.”
“They may not be able to tell us what’s going on, but we can sure as hell put them on notice that we don’t like the way it’s being handled.”
“Keep me posted?”
“I will.” Farnsworth took a measuring look at him that had Gonzo on the verge of squirming. “You seem to be doing better, Sergeant.”
Grief was, as Gonzo had discovered, unpredictable in its ability to come swooping into a day and remind you of what’d been lost so senselessly. “Maybe. A little.”
“I admire your tenacity and resiliency.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You have a bright future in this department, Sergeant. I’m glad to see you bouncing back from your loss. I hope you’ll let me know if there’s anything you need.”
“I will,
sir,” Gonzo said, moved by the chief’s kindness and support. “Thank you.”
“Carry on, then.”
“Have a good day, sir, and please let me know what you hear from the White House. I know the rest of the squad is wondering about where she is.”
“Will do.”
Gonzo left the lobby and headed for the pit, where third-shift Detectives Dominguez and Carlucci had hung around with Freddie after their shift ended, hoping for news about the lieutenant.
“Anything?” Carlucci asked when she saw Gonzo coming.
“Not yet. The chief is going to reach out to Sam’s office at the White House to see if they can shed any light. He promised to keep me posted.”
“I feel like we should be doing something,” Freddie said.
“What we need to be doing is investigating the body that was found in the river. Carlucci and Dominguez, go home and get some sleep. I’ll text you if we hear anything about the lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir,” they said as one.
“I want everyone else going through missing persons records. Start with the District, Virginia and Maryland over the last three months and work your way out to other areas if nothing pops locally. We’re looking for a female Caucasian between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five. Pull every file that meets the criteria, and we’ll go from there.”
While the others got busy seeing to his orders, Cruz asked if he could have a minute alone.
“Sure—come into the LT’s office.” As her second-in-command, Gonzo had a key and used it to unlock the door. He flipped on the lights and went to sit behind her cluttered desk. “What’s up?”
Cruz shut the door and leaned against it, looking tense. “I’m not sure if I’m doing the right thing bringing this to you, but I can’t sit on it.”
“Then you’re doing the right thing. What’s going on?”
“It’s Tyrone. He told me last night he’s thinking about leaving the department.”
Gonzo didn’t have to ask why, because of course he knew. Arnold had been Tyrone’s closest friend in the squad, and he’d taken the loss of his friend just as hard as Gonzo had. “Fuck.”
“Yeah, what you said. I talked him into meeting with Trulo again before he does something that can’t be undone, but I think he’s resolved.”
Gonzo blew out a deep breath. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Without throwing me under the bus?”
“Yeah. Don’t sweat it. Thanks for letting me know. You did the right thing.”
“What about you?” Freddie asked.
“What about me?”
“You said something a couple of months ago about maybe wanting to leave.”
“And yet here I am,” Gonzo said, “still doing what I’ve always done.”
“So you’re not thinking about leaving anymore?”
“I think about it. Sometimes. But this is what I know. It’s who I am. Who would I be if I wasn’t a cop, you know?”
“I know exactly what you mean,” Freddie said.
“I’m trying to take the advice I was given repeatedly after it first happened—not to do anything rash that I might regret.”
“That’s a good plan.”
“For now.”
“Everything is different. It’s like we’ve lost our innocence or something.”
“That’s exactly what happened. Cops getting killed was something that happened to other squads in other cities. Not to us. Now it’s happened to us, and we’re changed forever by it. That’s one of many things I’m trying to wrap my head around, and I know the rest of you are too.”
“We are, and hearing Will say he wants out was a shock, to say the least.”
“I’m not as surprised as I should be. He’s been very withdrawn and quiet the last few months. He gets the job done, but there’s no enthusiasm for it anymore.”
“Has Jeannie mentioned anything?” Freddie asked.
“She’s been so distracted by the wedding that I doubt she’s even noticed.”
“Or she can’t deal with it.”
“Which is also possible. Try not to worry. I’ll talk to him. I’ll make sure he’s taking full advantage of the department’s resources and that he makes the best possible decision.”
“Thanks. I’ll leave you to it.”
Cruz left the office but kept the door open to the pit, where Gonzo could see and hear his team working together on the Jane Doe case. Even Carlucci and Dominguez had stuck around to help, despite his orders to go home to get some sleep. Their tight-knit squad was a well-oiled machine, thanks in large part to Sam’s leadership. Losing one of them had rocked their team to the core, and it would be a long time, if ever, before things returned to “normal.”
CHAPTER SIX
TIME BECAME IRRELEVANT UNDERGROUND. Daytime, nighttime, it was all the same, and the longer Sam stared at gray cement walls, the crazier she felt. She began to crave sleep because it was the only escape she got from the boring monotony. Even Nick, who normally distracted her effortlessly, wasn’t able to get her mind off their predicament.
After dinner with the cranky group confined for a second day underground, Sam went into her room and crawled into bed, the one place she could go to escape from the whining, the bickering, the boredom.
Even though these were the people she loved the most in the world, she was damned tired of being stuck with them. They’d had no news from the Secret Service beyond the fact that they and the FBI were working with “all due diligence” to get to the bottom of the threat. Through Nick she’d also heard that her chief had called the White House to determine her whereabouts and had been assured she was safe.
Scotty was napping down the hall while Nick spent some time with his dad’s family and the O’Connors. With nothing else to do, Sam closed her eyes and dozed off, hoping that when she awakened, something would have changed in this ridiculous situation.
She dreamed about cases she’d worked, perps she’d arrested and her father’s shooting. Words and people and danger surrounded her as she ran from one place to another, trying to find a safe place to hide. Her ex-husband, Peter, was there, mocking her as she tried to get away, running down one dark corridor after another in a maze without end. Where was Nick? He would find her and keep her safe, but he was far away, somewhere she couldn’t get to.
Peter’s laughter echoed off the walls, reminding her that he was watching and enjoying her discomfort.
Nick’s mother, of all people, was with him.
“You never should’ve turned me away,” Nicoletta said before she shoved Sam back into the darkness and straight into the arms of Leonard Stahl.
Sam screamed, but there was no one to save her.
“You always were so cocky and mouthy,” Peter said spitefully. “I always said you needed some humility.”
With a thick arm around her neck, Stahl dragged her down another dark corridor. “This time I’m going to finish the job.” He pulled her into a room where one of Sam’s enemies, Sergeant Ramsey, stood with blood running down his face from where she’d punched him and the bodies of Mitchell Sanborn and little Quentin Johnson had been left to rot. The smell was horrific.
Sam screamed for Nick, and then he was there. She could hear his voice and tried to get to him.
“Samantha, wake up. Babe, wake up.” His lips were soft on her face as she breathed in his familiar scent.
She opened her eyes and blinked him into focus. Then she sat up and hurled herself into his arms.
“Baby, what’s wrong? I could hear you screaming from the other room.”
“I was dreaming.” She shuddered. “They were all there. Everyone who hates me. They were after me. Ramsey and Stahl... He had me by the throat, and Peter said I need some humility.”
Nick froze. “He said tha
t? In your dream?”
“He used to say that to me all the time.”
“Samantha... The threat. That’s what it said. That we needed some humility.”
She pulled back from him and ran her hands over her face, still trying to shake off the disturbing dream. “I never thought of it. I’ve blocked him out. You don’t think...”
“I don’t know, but it’s certainly worth passing along to the Secret Service and the FBI.”
“Only if I’m there when you pass it along. I’m tired of sitting on the sidelines while others investigate a threat against us. Let me do what I do best, Nick. I need to be involved in this.”
“I’ll talk to Brant. You’re sure you’re okay?”
“I’ll be a hell of a lot better when we can get the fuck out of here.”
“Me too, babe.” He kissed her and got up to leave the room.
Sam watched him go, noting the unusual slump to his shoulders. The ordeal was taking an added toll on him because he felt it was his fault they were in this predicament. She wondered when the last time he truly slept had been. Stress made his issues with insomnia a thousand times worse, and his stress level had to be through the roof.
As soon as they got out of here, Sam was going to talk to their doctor friend Harry Flynn about getting Nick on something to help him sleep. There had to be something he could take to ensure he got a good night’s sleep without leaving him groggy and out of sorts the next day.
Nick returned a few minutes later. “The Secret Service is notifying the FBI that we want to talk to the agents in charge of the investigation. They’ll be here shortly.”
“And they’re going to let me be in there?”
“I told them you’re the one with information.”
Sam smiled and held out a hand to him.
He came over, took her hand and let her tug him into bed with her.
“Nicely played, my love,” Sam said.
“It certainly can’t hurt to have you involved in figuring out what the hell this is about.”
“I completely agree.”
He snorted with laughter. “I figured you might.”