Fatal Frenzy: Book 9 of the Fatal Series

by Marie Force

  “Yeah,” Sam replied, hanging over his shoulder as he worked.

  “Don’t breathe on me.”

  “I’m not breathing on you.”

  “So you ready for tomorrow?”

  “I guess. How does one get ready for that circus?”

  “I’d have no idea,” he said, chuckling between clicks. “I still can’t believe you’re married to the VP.”

  “Neither can I. Not entirely sure how that happened.” She leaned in closer to one of the screens. “That. There. Zoom in.”

  He did as directed and zeroed in on a Virginia license plate number.

  “That’s it! I could kiss you right now!”

  “But you won’t.”

  “But I won’t.”

  He wrote down the license number and handed it to her.

  “If you could also isolate the video of our guy Androzzi and his buddy escorting them from the bar, I’d appreciate it.”

  “I’m on it. I’ll bring it down when I have it.”

  “Thanks, Archie.” Sam used her cell phone to call Freddie. “Run a plate for me.”

  “Did you really punch Ramsey and push him down the stairs?”

  “I punched him. The stairs were on him, not me.”

  “Oh my God, Sam.”

  “Shut up about Ramsey and run this Virginia plate right now.” She gave him the numbers. “I’ll be down when the coast is clear.”

  Sam headed out of the now-deserted IT department to a crowd gathered in the hallway. At the bottom of the stairs, Ramsey was screaming about having her badge while paramedics tended to him. Damn it. He’d survived the fall. Sam scooted around the crowd and across the hall into the SVU division, which was also deserted. Detective Erica Lucas greeted her.

  “I hear you’ve been up to no good, Lieutenant,” she said with a gleam in her eye that made Sam smile.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “You want some ice for those knuckles?” Erica asked, nodding to Sam’s right hand, which had begun to throb.

  “Wouldn’t say no to that.”

  “Right this way.” Erica led her into a small kitchenette and filled a baggie with ice that she handed to Sam.

  “Thanks. We’re overdue for that coffee we were going to have.”

  “I just brewed a fresh pot. Could I interest you in a cup?”

  “Since I’m stuck up here until they get the trash off the stairs, I’d love one.”

  Erica snorted with laughter. “Did you really push him down the stairs?”

  Sam placed the bag of ice over her right hand. “I might’ve punched him and he might’ve fallen, but I didn’t technically push him down the stairs.”

  “What did he say this time?”

  “Something about how surprised he was that Stahl didn’t knock the starch out of me or some such thing.”

  Erica stared at her, mouth open. “Well good for you. I would’ve punched him too. He’s such a prick.”

  “So you’ve said. Are you safe to talk here about what you know?”

  “Since you put a big hurt on him and there’s no chance of him walking in here and overhearing me say that I’ve been concerned by how much he hates you. He goes off about you at least once a week, if not more.”

  “Any idea why?”

  “He talks a lot about nepotism and things being handed to you because of who your old man was and all the attention you’ve gotten because of your marriage. He says you’re an attention whore.” She grimaced. “Sorry, don’t shoot the messenger.”

  “I’ve been called worse. Just this morning in fact.”

  Erica laughed. “I’m sure you have. The thing that concerns me with Ramsey is how vicious he is about you. Like you took a spot that should’ve been his, when we both know that wasn’t true. He’s failed the lieutenant’s exam as many times as he’s taken it. His career is dead in the water because of him, not you.”

  “Can’t tell him that, though.”

  “Nope.”

  “Stahl was like that too. Always blaming me and others for issues he brought upon himself. Typical narcissist. The old-boy network can’t bear to see women getting ahead and doing better than them.”

  “I haven’t had a chance to talk to you since everything happened with Stahl. I just hope you know that most of us were horrified by what he did and very thankful you got through it.”

  “Thanks. I had a ton of support from people here that really helped. I never did get a card from Ramsey though.”

  Erica smiled. “I doubt you’ll get one now that you’ve punched him in the face.”

  “Oh well. And I had such hope for our relationship.”

  “Listen, Sam… I hope it’s okay if I call you that.”

  “Of course it is. I’m not hung up on pretense around friends.”

  “The thing is… He’s really got his nuts in a twist over you, and that’s not going to get better after what happened today. I know I don’t have to tell you how to watch out for yourself, but be careful.”

  “Your warning is well taken. I’m running low on enemies with Stahl out of the picture and my ex-husband on a string of remarkably good behavior lately. I’d hate to get bored and lazy.”

  “That would be a travesty.”

  “I appreciate the heads-up, the coffee and the ice, but I need to get back downstairs. Hopefully, they’ve cleaned up the roadkill in the stairwell by now.”

  “Don’t quote me on this,” Erica said, glancing toward the door to the kitchen nervously, “but you might want to look into Ramsey’s role in providing inside info to Stahl during the Springer case, not to mention the possibility that he was the one who tipped off Billy Springer that we were on to him for the murders of his brother and the others.”

  “What do you know?”

  “Nothing concrete, but he was acting really weird and secretive for a couple of weeks there, beginning with the final days of the Springer investigation. It seemed to end after everything blew up with Stahl. I heard you suspected he was getting inside info, and I immediately thought of Ramsey and his odd behavior.”

  “Did anyone else witness it?”

  “You might want to talk to his partner, Harper. He’s a straight-up guy and though he’s never said so, he dislikes Ramsey as much as the rest of us do. Ramsey’s a bully, and Harper is his favorite target. It drives Ramsey mad that Harper idolizes you. He thinks you’re a badass and says so every chance he gets, which takes Ramsey right over the edge. If Harper knows anything, I think he’d give it up under the right circumstances.”

  “This is very good to know, Erica. I appreciate it.”

  “We girls have to stick together around here.”

  “You’re goddamned right we do.” A thought occurred to her then, and she took a second to weigh it out before she shared it with Erica. “Unfortunately, a spot has opened up in my squad. If you were to apply for a transfer, I’d do what I could to make it happen. If you’re interested that is.”

  “I’d love to work for you. My only hesitation would be leaving SVU for Homicide. I feel like I’m making a real difference for the victims here. Not that you don’t in Homicide, but my victims are usually still alive, you know?”

  “I do know exactly what you mean. Think about it. Nothing is going to happen soon. We’ve got a funeral to get through before we can even begin to think about replacing him.”

  “I’m so sorry for all of you. He was a good guy.”

  “Yes, he was. Well, I’d better get back to it. Thanks for the coffee and everything else.”

  “Anytime.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Sam left the kitchen and felt every set of eyes in SVU land on her as she walked past the cubicles on the way to the hall where the crowd had dispers
ed and Ramsey had been taken away. She went downstairs to her own office and found Malone waiting for her, hands on hips and his mouth set into that glower thing he did when he was pissed.

  “Captain.”

  “Lieutenant. Anything you want to tell me?”

  “I’ve got a few things, actually. We got a plate number for the car that Androzzi used to take the college girls from the bar. I also just had a very illuminating chat with Detective Lucas in SVU, who shared some information you’re going to want to hear.”

  “You forgot the part where you punched Ramsey in the face, causing him to fall down a flight of stairs, leaving him with possible broken bones in addition to the injuries to his face.”

  “I was getting to that.”

  He crossed his arms, which only added to his stern countenance. “Were you now?”

  “He got mouthy with me. I got mouthy back at him, and then he said something about how he thought Stahl would’ve taken some of the starch out of me, so I punched him.” Sam shrugged. “He had it coming.”

  “He was screaming about lawsuits and pressing charges and everything else he could think of on the way out of here.”

  “Whatever. Let him sue me. Who’s going to side with him when he would say such a vile thing to a fellow officer who went through what I did with a criminal?”

  “No one, I suppose, but you still shouldn’t have hit him.”

  “Okay.”

  “You may hear from higher up than me on that.”

  “Okay.”

  “What’s this other information you mentioned?”

  Sam conveyed what Erica had told her about Ramsey’s odd behavior around the time that Stahl was planning his last stand as well as the possibility that he’d tipped off Billy Springer. “She didn’t have anything concrete, but she suggested we might speak to his partner, Detective Harper. And I’m just saying, with Ramsey out of the building for the day, this might be a good time to have that chat.”

  “You are not having that chat, you hear me?”

  “Of course I’m not. That would be a clear conflict of interest. I know that as well as you do.”

  “You’re a total pain in my ass, you know that?”

  “Awww, Captain.” She dabbed at her eyes. “I love you too.”

  He snorted out a laugh. “As much as you drive me nuts, it is good to have you back around here, assaulting your fellow officers aside.”

  Freddie came to the door. “I’ve got a lead on the SUV. Shall we?”

  “By all means. Let’s call SWAT in on this.” She grabbed her coat. “Catch you later, Captain.”

  Malone glanced at the piece of paper with the Alexandria address written on it. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  To Freddie, she said, “Grab Gonzo. I don’t want him here alone. Meet me at the morgue.”

  Freddie veered off to the pit.

  At the end of a long hallway, Sam ducked into the morgue. “Doc!”

  “In here,” Lindsey called from her office.

  “Question for you—can we run the DNA from the knife victims against the profile we have for Androzzi now that we’ve isolated him as our suspect?”

  “One step ahead of you. I put in the request this morning.”

  “You’re the best.”

  “I know. I say that every day.”

  “And your ego might just be as healthy as mine.”

  “Don’t go too far, Lieutenant.” She looked up at Sam, her green eyes brimming with compassion. “How’s everyone holding up in your squad?”

  “They’re keeping busy with what needs to be done. That’s helping.”

  “Have you heard anything about when the funeral will be?”

  “Not yet. We’re waiting on his family to let us know what they want to do.”

  “I can’t imagine what they must be going through. His parents broke my heart.”

  “Mine too. I gotta get to it. We’ve got a lead on our shooter, who’s been keeping busy since he killed Arnold. Last night he grabbed two college girls who were here on a school trip to the inauguration.”

  “Oh lord.”

  “Apparently, they’re a couple of Internet stars with their dorm-room webcam, so they were ripe for the plucking. But they had no idea what they were getting themselves into with this guy.”

  “I hope you find them before it’s too late.”

  “So do I.”

  * * *

  Every time Sam drove over the 14th Street Bridge to Virginia, she was reminded of the night she met Nick and how, after a thorough search of the city for the “right” condoms, he’d taken her to his place in Arlington by way of the bridge and changed her life forever.

  Thanks to her malicious ex-husband, Sam hadn’t seen Nick again for six long years after that night, but they’d more than made up for lost time over the last year. Rather than give Peter one more ounce of her mental energy, Sam chose to think of Nick and that breathtaking night in which he’d come to her rescue after an asshole player spilled beer all over her.

  From the first second she laid eyes on him, she was captivated by his stunning good looks, subtle humor, crackling intelligence and exceptional manners. She’d never forget the way he’d washed her skirt while she slept in his bed so she wouldn’t have to wear the damp, stinky garment home. Tomorrow, that same man, a man of integrity and character who also happened to be the love of her life, would stand before the nation and the world to be sworn in as vice president of the United States. She couldn’t be more proud.

  “Lieutenant,” Freddie said. “I think we’re ready.”

  Jostled from her thoughts about her husband, Sam checked her watch to discover it had taken forty-five long, intense minutes to get everyone in place. Out of courtesy, they’d notified their colleagues in Alexandria about the raid they were about to make on a warehouse near the Potomac. Even in the dead of winter, the smell of the river was ripe in the icy breeze that blew in from the water.

  Sam shivered from the cold as much as the fear of whether they’d be too late to save the girls who’d been kidnapped. The warehouse’s close proximity to the river indicated the possibility that the traffickers were shipping women by sea, which was a truly terrifying thought.

  The Potomac and Chesapeake beyond were busy shipping lanes and finding two girls among the many containers, barges and other ships that traversed the local waterways on a daily basis would be like looking for a needle in the proverbial haystack.

  “Are you ready?” Freddie asked.

  “Have we gotten the go-ahead from SWAT?”

  “Everyone is in place.”

  “All right, let’s do it.”

  Freddie communicated her order to the SWAT commander via his handheld radio.

  The men and women in black sprung into action. Sam and her team hung back with Malone and Conklin, who’d come with him to oversee the operation. Wearing helmets and heavy bulletproof vests and with their guns and flashlights drawn, Sam, Freddie, Gonzo, Conklin and Malone followed half the SWAT team into the building. The other half formed a perimeter around the outside so no one could escape from inside.

  In the darkness, Sam could see the beams of light coming from the headlamps the SWAT team wore. They looked like lasers in a crazy video game, but this was no game. Shots rang out from above, and SWAT returned fire.

  Someone cried out from the upper rafters and fell to the floor near Sam with a sickening thud. She used her flashlight to check the man’s identity. It was the guy who’d been with Androzzi in the bar the night before. She recognized him from the video footage and checked for his nonexistent pulse.

  “One of Androzzi’s guys is dead,” she said into her radio.

  More gunfire sounded from deeper inside the building. Sam left the dead body to rejoin the others, who were exchan
ging fire with at least two shooters. Through the earpiece she wore, she listened to the SWAT commander, Captain Nickleson, issue orders to his team, which soon had the shooters surrounded.

  “There’s no way out for you,” Nickleson said over a loudspeaker. “We have you surrounded. Put down your weapons and come out with your hands on top of your head.”

  After at least a full minute of total silence, the sound of guns hitting the floor echoed through the cavernous space. Two men appeared out of the darkness, hands on their heads as directed. Neither of them was Androzzi.

  “Is there anyone else here?” Nickleson asked as two of his people cuffed them.

  “There was one other.”

  “Where’s Androzzi?” Malone asked.

  “Who?”

  “Don’t play dumb. We know you work for him. Where is he?”

  “No idea who you’re talking about.”

  “What about the girls?” Sam asked. “Where are they?”

  The two men looked at each other.

  “Lieutenant!” Freddie cried. “Back here!”

  Sam ran toward his voice with Gonzo and Malone right behind her. “Where are you, Cruz?”

  He waved his flashlight to direct them. “Keep coming this way.”

  In the far back corner of the vast building, the two missing girls were asleep or unconscious on a grungy mattress. “Are they breathing?”

  “Shallow respirations and slow heart rates on both.”

  Sam used her handheld radio to call for an ambulance. “Stay here with them,” she said to Freddie. She went back to the other part of the building where the SWAT team had the two men facedown on the floor, hands cuffed behind them. Sam squatted and shone her light in their faces. “What’re they on?”

  “Who?”

  “The girls in the back.”

  “What girls?”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake. The jig is up, you losers. Tell us what you gave them so we can try to save their lives. Otherwise you’ll be looking at two counts each of murder one.”

  “It’s GHB,” the nervous-looking one said.

  “You stupid motherfuckers. I hope you didn’t give them enough to kill them.”