Fatal Deception

by Marie Force

  The notion was so preposterous that Nick couldn’t help but laugh. “Sure they will.”

  “Some kind of dogfight heating up for the general election, huh?”

  “Sure is. The caucus is worried about Arnie,” Nick said of the fabulously wealthy businessman, Arnold “Arnie” Patterson, who was running for president as an independent candidate. “The closer we get to the election, the more his support grows, and unlike Nelson and Rafael,” Nick said of the incumbent president and his GOP rival, “Arnie is in no danger of running out of money in the home stretch.”

  “I can’t imagine this country is ready for the likes of him,” Graham said, his tone rife with distaste. “No one even knows how he really came by his money. Everything about him is shady.”

  “But he’s giving the people what they want—promises of lower taxes, less government, a renewed focus on family values, a Christian with liberal leanings. He’s an amalgamation of the best of both worlds, and that’s attractive to a lot of voters.”

  “My fear is he’s going to take enough of the support away from Nelson that Rafael will get a cheap win,” Graham said. “Halliwell said Nelson’s camp is worried.”

  “A lot can happen between now and November,” Nick said. “I’ve seen him on the stump, and I’ve noticed the loose-cannon element that worries his advisors. Look at how many staffers he’s gone through since Memorial Day. I hear he has his sons running the show, so that provides some continuity.”

  “Word is if they don’t agree with him, he replaces them. I bet he’d fire his own kids if they disagreed with him.”

  Nick laughed. “I ought to adopt that strategy. It would make for much quicker staff meetings, that’s for sure.”

  “No kidding,” Graham said, chuckling. “So Scotty will be in town soon, huh?”

  “We’re going to get him Sunday. Three whole weeks together. We can’t wait.”

  “Bring him down to the farm to ride.”

  “I will.

  “I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Looking forward to it.”

  Nick hung up the phone and stared for a long time at the photo of John, thinking of their years together at Harvard, weekends with the O’Connors in Leesburg and working side by side during John’s five years in office. For the first time in a while, he allowed in the grief and longing. Nick would happily give up his office and all the notoriety that went with it for one more day with his best friend.

  * * *

  Sam stepped out the main door of HQ and into madness. The questions flew at her in one big roar as cameras flashed. Her gruesome mug would be all over the front pages in the morning.

  “What can you tell us about the robbery?”

  “How many stitches did you get?”

  “Is there any sign of Maeve Kavanaugh?”

  “Will you interview the president?”

  “Is Derek Kavanaugh a suspect?”

  Sam held up her hands to quiet the crowd. When the questions continued to fly at her, she zeroed in on a light post in the parking lot behind them until they got the hint that she wouldn’t say a word until they shut the hell up. It took a few more minutes, but they finally got the message.

  “I’ll give you a statement and then take some questions,” she said. “The investigation into the murder of Victoria Kavanaugh and the apparent abduction of Maeve Kavanaugh is ongoing. Mr. Kavanaugh is not a suspect. I repeat, Derek Kavanaugh is not a suspect in the death of his wife or the abduction of his daughter.” Even though she reemphasized the point, Derek’s innocence would probably be buried under lurid sensationalism about a murder that touched the highest levels of the Nelson administration.

  “We have no plans to speak to the president at this time, but he did confirm Mr. Kavanaugh’s alibi for the time of the murder and kidnapping. He was with the president’s senior team and campaign officials at a strategy session held at Camp David over the weekend.” She paused, made eye contact with several of the more familiar reporters. “One more time for the hearing impaired—Mr. Kavanaugh is not a suspect.”

  Before they could shout more questions at her, Sam took a deep breath, praying the painkillers would kick in soon, because her face was starting to seriously hurt. “We ask your assistance in continuing to publish and broadcast the photos of Maeve Kavanaugh. SVU detectives are following up on every lead in the investigation into her disappearance.”

  “Do you have any persons of interest yet?” one of the Barbie-doll TV reporters asked. Sam could never remember their names. They all looked alike.

  “We’re following a number of leads.”

  “What can you tell us about the robbery this morning?” Darren Tabor asked.

  “I’m sure you’ve seen the video.” Sam shrugged, figuring the quicker she gave them what they wanted, the sooner she could get back to work. “I was buying a bagel, noticed the guy waving the gun around, texted my officers for backup and made my way to the front of the store, where I was able to neutralize the gunman. That’s all there was to it.”

  “You left out the part where he pistol-whipped you in the face,” someone shouted.

  She gestured to the mess on her face. “I figured that part was pretty obvious.”

  A wave of laughter went through the crowd.

  “How many stitches?”

  “I wasn’t counting.”

  “Has the senator seen your face?”

  “Not yet,” she said, and then immediately wanted to take back the words. She probably shouldn’t have said that, because he’d come across as unfeeling for not rushing to the hospital. While the old Sam wouldn’t have given a shit less what they thought, the new Sam had a politician husband who was in the midst of his first-ever campaign to protect.

  “He was in hearings this morning,” she said through gritted teeth. “Anything else?” Not giving them even half a second to respond, she said, “That’s it for now,” and nodded at Hill to follow her through the horde to the parking lot.

  “I don’t know how you can stand the constant scrutiny,” Hill said when they were clear of the reporters.

  “Part of my job,” Sam said, uninterested in making small talk with the agent.

  “I mean about your personal life.”

  She sent a glare his way that probably wasn’t as effective as usual since half her face wasn’t working properly at the moment. “I knew what I was getting into.”

  As they approached his nondescript sedan, he clicked the remote unlock button. “Hmm.”

  Sam slid into the passenger seat. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “All I said was ‘hmm.’”

  “People say that instead of what they really mean.”

  “Is that right?” he said in that drawl that’d probably left a trail of wet panties in his wake.

  A minute later he pulled into a sub shop and they picked up sandwiches and sodas.

  “What is your problem anyway?” Sam asked once they were under way again.

  “I wasn’t aware that I had a problem,” he said, devouring a turkey sub as he drove them northwest through downtown traffic, on the way to Route 66 West.

  Sam had gotten tuna thinking it would be easier to eat, but her face hurt too much to chew. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s rude to stare?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You stare. At me. All the time.” Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a flush of color settle in his cheeks and wanted to laugh. The oh-so-cool agent blushed like a schoolgirl.

  “I’ve heard about your considerable ego, Lieutenant, but trust me when I tell you I’m thinking about the case—and not you—when I’m supposedly staring at you.”

  For some reason, Sam didn’t believe him. It was something more than that—something she would do well to leave alone despite her usual inclination to pick apart such things. “So you’ve heard my ego is considerable, huh?”

  Hill laughed. “Figures you’d take that as a compliment.”

  “Why wouldn
’t I? I’ve had good reason to be cocky. Have you read about my case closure rate?”

  Rolling his eyes, he said, “Who hasn’t? Your face is in the paper more often than the president’s these days.”

  “Now that is not true.”

  “Whatever you say. Let’s talk about Derek Kavanaugh and how we’re going to handle this meeting.”

  “Ugh, do we have to?”

  “I suppose we do. You said last night that you know him socially?”

  “He and Nick are friends. Have been for years. I’ve only known him since last Christmas, but we got together with them once in a while.”

  “What did you think of her?”

  “There was nothing not to like about Victoria,” Sam said. “Gorgeous and vivacious and stylish and quick to laugh. Very much in love with her husband and child, or so it seemed to us.” Thinking about what they’d learned about the murdered woman had Sam questioning her every impression. “But who knows if she was an award-winning actress playing the part of the devoted wife when really she was part of a nefarious plot of epic proportions.”

  “People suck,” Hill said, surprising her with his bluntness.

  “Very often they do.” Sam rested her head against the seat, suddenly exhausted. “Where do we even start with this one?”

  Hill turned to her, agape. “Are you honestly asking my opinion?”

  “Keep your eyes on the road and call it a momentary lapse in judgment brought on by intense pain.”

  “Is it bad?” he asked, sounding like he actually cared.

  “It doesn’t feel great. That’s for sure.” She reached for the visor and pulled it down for a look in the mirror. “Holy shit,” she whispered. The entire right side of her face was purple and swollen with a strip of white bandage slashing horizontally across her cheek. Her right eye had been completely eclipsed by the swelling. “Wow, even more spectacular than the last time I looked.” Once again she thought of the evening’s fundraiser with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach and was sorry she’d looked.

  “It does make a statement.”

  Sam couldn’t help the gurgle of laughter that escaped despite her intention to remain aloof where he was concerned.

  “Since you asked my humble opinion, I’d suggest we start with the people whose identities were ripped off. Hopefully Cruz and the others can get us some leads from the phone logs. And then there’s the investigator who handled the background check. We’ve actually got quite a lot to go on.”

  “Yes, I guess we do.” Watching the world whiz by through the passenger-side window, she said, “This is going to turn out to be a big deal, isn’t it?”

  “I fear you may be right, but it won’t be your first time with big-deal investigations. In the last year alone, you’ve investigated murdered senators and Supreme Court nominees, brought down the speaker of the House, the chair of the DNC and a long-standing senator. I’d think this stuff would be old hat for you by now.”

  “How is it that you know everything about me, but I don’t know the first thing about you?”

  His smile was sexy and suggestive at the same time, making Sam instantly regret the question.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Nothing. Forget I asked.” Exchanging confidences with this particular man felt like cheating for some reason.

  “I grew up in Charleston, South Carolina. Attended the Citadel. Did a stint as an Army Ranger and later in special ops. Got out after ten years and have been with the FBI ever since. That’s pretty much the extent of the Special Agent Avery Hill story.”

  Something about the way he said that told Sam there was much more to the story, not that she’d ever take the time to dig deeper. That would bring her perilously close to a line she wouldn’t cross with a gun to her head.

  After a long period of silence, Hill navigated the exit for Herndon. “What’s the plan with Kavanaugh?”

  “I guess I’ll tell it to him straight. In my experience, that’s always the best way to handle these things.”

  “Agreed.” Clearing his throat, he said, “So you’ll be the one to tell it to him straight, correct?”

  Sam snickered. “I got it, Hill. Don’t worry yourself.”

  “I was thinking it might go down easier coming from a friend.”

  “I can’t imagine there’s any way this goes down easy.”

  “Yeah, I guess not. I feel sorry for the guy.”

  “So do I.”

  Chapter Nine

  A short time later, they pulled into a subdivision of neatly kept colonials, the kind of place where regular people raised their kids and grew old sitting on the front porch with their spouses. After a couple of turns, Hill parked behind a black BMW that Sam would recognize anywhere as her husband’s car. “Perfect,” she muttered to herself.

  In addition to a predictable reaction to her injured face, Sam could only imagine what Nick would have to say about her showing up there with Hill. Bracing herself for the fireworks as well as the grim task she had ahead of her with Derek, Sam got out of the car and preceded Hill up the sidewalk.

  Nick answered the door. “Fancy meeting you here.” His expression softened at the sight of her battered face and then hardened when he got a look at her companion.

  “Chief’s orders,” she said under her breath as he stepped aside to admit them. “What’re you doing here anyway? I thought you had a town hall meeting.”

  “Not until four. Let me see your face.” He took her by the hand and led her into a formal living room.

  “I’ll give you a minute,” Hill said before he disappeared into the kitchen.

  Nick brought her closer to the picture window and took a long, hard look at her face. “Nothing major, huh?”

  “It looks worse than it feels,” she said, playing it down as she always did.

  “Somehow I doubt that.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Did they give you something for the pain?”

  “I haven’t picked it up yet.”

  “Of course you haven’t.”

  “I took some other pills. I’m fine. Really.”

  “Come here.” He held out his arms to her, and she pressed her uninjured cheek to her favorite chest. She was determined to take one minute of the comfort only he could provide before she went in the other room and crushed Derek Kavanaugh into a thousand tiny pieces.

  “Did you see the video?” she asked.

  “What do you think?”

  Sam would’ve cringed, but her face fought back. “Sorry. I hate that you had to see it.”

  “You were quite something, babe. Very impressive.” In her ear, he added, “Very sexy.”

  Sam laughed out loud. “Only you.”

  “It’d better be only me.”

  “Oh, come on, Nick. Farnsworth made me bring him here. You know I don’t want him around.”

  “I wish you could see the way he looks at you.”

  She had seen it but would never admit as much to her husband, because it would only upset him. “That’s his problem. Let’s not make it ours. Please? We’ve got enough on our plates without looking for trouble where there is none, okay?”

  Grudgingly, or so it seemed to her, he nodded.

  “I’ve got to go in there and talk to Derek. What I have to tell him is going to upset him greatly.”

  “More so than having his wife murdered and his daughter kidnapped?”

  “Yes.”

  “Jesus.”

  “It’s way, way out of regs for me to let you be in there for this, but if Hill agrees, I want you to hear it, because Derek will need the support of someone who knows what’s going on.”

  “Okay,” Nick said hesitantly.

  Sam didn’t blame him for the hesitance. She’d rather be anywhere but in the midst of Derek Kavanaugh’s worst nightmare. “Give me a second to talk to Hill, and quit looking like you want to kill someone whenever his name is mentioned.”

  “If he steps one foot out of line with you, I want to know about
it. Do you understand me?”

  “Oh for God’s sake, Nick! We’re colleagues. Professionals.”

  “I don’t care. I want your word, Samantha.”

  She took a deep, shuddering breath, a tiny bit ashamed that his jealousy was a huge turn-on. “I promise. There. Are you satisfied?”

  “I’ll be satisfied when this case is closed and we’re looking at his taillights as he heads out of town.”

  She poked him in the belly. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

  “You’re a much bigger pain in mine.”

  “True,” Sam said. Why deny it? She went up on tiptoes to kiss him, which proved difficult and painful. “Stay here and behave. I mean it. I won’t appreciate you acting like an alpha man in front of him. You got me?”

  “Yes! Go. Talk to your colleague.”

  Sam stalked into the kitchen, where Hill was speaking with an older woman who Sam assumed was Derek’s mother.

  “Lieutenant Holland, this is Mrs. Kavanaugh,” Hill said.

  She was trim with short gray hair. Her eyes were ringed with red, and an aura of exhaustion and sadness clung to her. Sam could see the resemblance to her son.

  “You’re Nick’s Samantha,” she said as she rose to hug Sam.

  “Yes,” Sam said, awkwardly returning the embrace. Affection from strangers was another on the long list of things that made her uncomfortable. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you, honey. I assume you need to speak to Agent Hill, so I’ll leave you.”

  “We’re doing everything we can,” Sam assured her.

  “I have no doubt,” Mrs. Kavanaugh said, patting Sam on the arm on her way out of the room.

  “Nice lady,” Hill said when they were alone. “They so don’t deserve any of this.”

  “None of them ever do.” She stopped, considered. “Well, some of them probably do, but not these people.”

  Hill replied with a small smile that made his striking face more so. “Ready to talk to Derek?”

  “Before we do, I wanted to ask you what you’d think of letting Nick sit in. He has a clearance, and I was thinking it would be good for Derek to have someone close to him hear—”