by Marie Force
“I’m trying to clear my schedule for the day after tomorrow.”
Nick sat on the bed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Why am I totally panicking right now?”
“Don’t panic. I’ll do my best to get this sewed up quickly for you.”
“You know what we were talking about when you called? He asked if it’s okay to call me Dad.” Nick’s voice broke. “This can’t go bad, Andy. It just can’t.”
“It’s not going to. You’ve got Scotty’s age on your side. He’s able to say what he wants, and it’s obvious to me and everyone who knows you all that he’s exactly where he wants to be.”
“Able to say to who?”
“A judge, but I don’t see it coming to that. I’m much more concerned about the father wanting money from you.”
“I’ll give it to him. Whatever he wants.”
Andy’s low chuckle echoed through the phone. “Nick, seriously. If you happen to meet the guy, don’t say that, okay?”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“What about Scotty?”
“What about him?”
“Will you tell him we’ve located his biological father?”
“I haven’t given that a thought. I was hoping you wouldn’t find him.”
“You probably ought to think about it. If it’s him, and we’re almost entirely sure it is, Scotty has a right to know we’ve located him.”
“I’ll talk to Sam. We’ll figure out what to do.”
“Good enough.”
“Andy... No matter what, we can’t lose him. It would kill Sam.”
“Not to mention what it would do to you.”
“Not to mention.”
“We’ll get it taken care of. Try not to worry.”
“Right... Will do.”
“I’ll be in touch.”
“Thanks, Andy.” Nick ended the call and sat perfectly still for several minutes as an array of troubling thoughts rendered him incapable of moving or thinking about anything other than what could go wrong. A knock on the door snapped him out of the stupor. “Yeah.”
The door opened and Scotty stuck his head in. “About that dinner...”
Nick forced himself to put his worries aside so he could focus on the boy who meant the world to him. “What do you feel like?”
“Spaghetti?”
“You always say that.”
“I always like that.”
“You got it. Come help me.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah sure. Why?”
“Your hair is standing up straight. It does that when you’re worried about something and run your fingers through it.”
“Is that right?” Nick hooked his arm around Scotty’s neck and messed up his hair. “There. Now we match.” He walked toward the stairs, bringing Scotty with him.
Scotty’s belly laugh went a long way toward assuaging Nick’s worries. But they stayed with him while they made dinner together. How would he ever tell Sam about this?
Chapter Thirteen
“I can’t believe I’m actually going to this guy’s house voluntarily,” Sam said as they approached the building where Lieutenant Stahl lived.
Malone followed her up the stairs. “Me either.”
“Has anyone talked to him since he got out?”
“Not that I know of. Ever since he attacked you, everyone has kept their distance. Cops don’t rub elbows with felons if they want to continue to be cops.”
“To be fair, he’s not a convicted felon. Yet.”
“True. Only a matter of time, though.”
“So how are we approaching this?” Sam asked.
“We’re establishing his whereabouts on the thirty-first.”
“What do we say when he asks why we want to know?”
“He’ll know why we want to know. He’s heard by now that Gonzo’s baby mama was murdered. If I know him at all, and I know him way better than I ever wanted to, he’s enjoying the speculation pointing to Gonzo.”
“How does a career cop get to a place where he’s gleeful to see one of his brothers being falsely accused of murder?”
“He gets there when his career doesn’t go as planned,” Malone said, “and he gets to watch others who started long after him reach heights he never could’ve dreamed of. He starts to get bitter, and the bitterness festers.”
On the third floor, they rapped on his door and waited.
“Open up, Stahl.” Malone knocked again. When there was no answer, Malone looked behind them, scanning the parking lot below. “He couldn’t have gone far. The terms of his bail made it so he can’t leave the area.”
“Is anyone checking on him?”
“Nope. You know how bail works. They only check on him if he misses a court date.” Malone looked down at her. “You want to wait awhile?”
Sam checked her watch. It was already almost seven. She’d been at it for thirteen hours and was running low on gas. “Let’s see if we can find Peter and then I’ll call it a day.”
Malone followed her to the Capitol Hill neighborhood where she lived and unfortunately, Peter did too. The captain parked behind her on Seventh Street. Sam’s stomach hurt at the thought of seeing her ex-husband, but if it helped Gonzo, she’d do it willingly. She’d eliminate Peter as a suspect and go home to her wonderful second husband. Thinking of Nick and Scotty waiting for her at home helped to propel Sam up another flight of stairs with Malone right behind her.
“I got this,” he said, nodding for her to stand off to the side. Before she could protest or tell him he didn’t need to mollycoddle her, he was pounding on the door. “Police, open up.”
The door across the hall opened and a woman looked out at them. “There’s no one there. He moved and the new people haven’t moved in yet.”
“Do you know where he went?” Sam asked with a growing sense of unease.
“No idea. We weren’t friends. I just knew him to say hello to. Seemed like a nice enough guy. What’d he do?”
So many things, Sam thought. Too many to count, beginning with his failure to give her some critical messages from Nick while pretending to be her friend.
“We just wanted to talk to him,” Malone said. “Does the super live on the property?”
She shook her head. “I can get you his number.”
“That’d be great,” Malone said. While she went to get the number, Malone glanced at Sam. “We’ll find him. Don’t worry.”
They should’ve been visiting him in prison where he belonged for attempting to kill her and Nick with crude bombs attached to their cars.
The neighbor returned with the number and handed the piece of paper to Malone. “Thanks very much for your help.”
“Is he in trouble?”
“Not that we know of,” Malone said, “but he has been in the past.”
“Wow, I never would’ve guessed that. He seemed so...normal.”
“I thought so too,” Sam said, pleased to know she wasn’t the only one who’d been taken in by his false charm. “Thanks again for the help.”
“I’ll get on this tonight,” Malone said. “I’ll find him.”
“Thanks. I’m sure he hasn’t gone far. He won’t be able to stalk me if he’s not close by.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“I guess it was when I came by to see if he was dicking with me after the wedding by sending the threatening cards.”
“That was almost a year ago.”
“Time flies when you’re finally happily married.”
“Didn’t Nick have a guy on him?”
“For a while, but he called him off when I told him he was wasting his money.” Back at her car, she turned to the captain. “It makes me
nervous that we don’t know where either of them are. I’m picturing them in a bunker together trying to figure out ways to ruin my life and the lives of everyone I care about while Ramsey delivers Chinese food to them.”
He grunted out a laugh. “Go give that overactive imagination of yours a rest for a few hours. I’ll see you on TV.”
“Yeah, yeah, stop enjoying that so much.”
“I’m going to enjoy watching you seethe when they ask you personal questions.”
“I need to think of something wildly inappropriate that I can say if they ask me personal crap.”
“I’m no politician, but something tells me Nick won’t approve of that.”
“I know,” she said glumly. “He ruins all my fun.”
Suddenly exhausted as the adrenaline of the day drained from her system, Sam pushed herself off the car. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Call me if anything pops.”
“Will do.”
Sam drove the two blocks to her home on Ninth Street, where she had to show ID to park in front of her own house. Thankfully, the neighbors had been cool about the increased security, mostly because they all loved Skip and knew how much he liked having Sam and her family nearby.
Everyone loved Skip, but no one more so than her, or so she thought. Sam got out of her car, took a longing glance at her own home and headed for her dad’s house, entering with a quick knock to the front door.
Celia was on the sofa, a glass of white wine in hand and the TV on. “Hey,” she said when Sam came in. “Just getting home?”
“Yep. Happy New Year to me. Lori, the mother of Gonzo’s son, was found dead in a car this morning.”
“I heard about that on the news. Tell me there’s no truth to him being a suspect.”
“No truth whatsoever, but why should the press let the truth get in the way of a good story?”
Celia shook her head in dismay. “I couldn’t believe what I was hearing earlier.”
“I think someone has gone to some effort to make it look like he could’ve done it.”
“He must be beside himself.”
“He is,” Sam said, as she added a call to her friend and colleague to her before-bed to-do list. “How’s our patient?”
“Sleeping comfortably after a rough day.” Celia raised the wineglass. “Now I’m medicating myself.” Celia snickered at her own joke. The laugh turned into a sob almost instantaneously. “Sorry.” She covered her mouth. “It just...hard. It’s really hard to see him this way. I don’t know how much more he can take.”
Sam reached for her stepmother and hugged her.
“Sorry to be so maudlin. I think I might be a little drunk.”
Laughing, Sam pulled back so she could see Celia’s face. “Can’t say I blame you for that.”
“I was so hoping we might get some sort of miracle from the surgery. I’m ashamed to admit I had all my eggs in that basket when I certainly knew the realities. I just never imagined this scenario.”
“None of us did.”
“He asked me about the pills in the safe-deposit box.”
Sam went cold all over at the thought of those pills and what they were for. “No. We’re not there yet.”
“He is, honey. His quality of life has gone from bad to awful, and the more time he spends in bed, the greater the risk of secondary infection.” Leaning her head back against the sofa, she looked at Sam. “I’m not going to let this go on indefinitely. I made promises to him that I intend to keep.”
Celia’s words struck terror in Sam’s heart, but she didn’t fault her stepmother. She didn’t want her father to live in agony either. “I’m going to talk to the doctors again tomorrow. There’s got to be something they can do that’s not been tried yet.”
“I appreciate your help the same way I have since the surgery.”
“Just give me a couple of days, okay?”
Celia reached out to brush the tears off Sam’s face. “Okay.”
Sam hugged her again. “I’m going to kiss him good-night.” She got up and cut through the kitchen to get to her father’s bedroom in what used to be the dining room. A hallway light lit her way into the room, where she bent over the hospital bed to kiss his forehead. The one improvement since the surgery was that he no longer required the respirator while in bed. Under normal circumstances, that would’ve been hailed as a major victory.
His eyes fluttered open. “Hey, baby girl.”
“Hey, Skippy. Didn’t mean to wake you. Just wanted to say good night.”
“Glad you did. Long day, huh?”
“No worse than usual.”
“Heard the shit on the news about Gonzo.”
“It’s total shit and not true.”
“Figured as much.”
“We’ve got a few threads to pull tomorrow. We’ll figure it out.”
“You always do. Saw your boy earlier. Love that kid.”
Sam rested her hand on his shoulder and brushed the hair back from his forehead, which felt warm to the touch. Another pang of fear assailed her when she tried to conceive of life without him at the center of it where he belonged. “He loves you too.”
“You should get home to your boys and get some rest while you can.”
“Will you be able to sleep?”
“Yeah, don’t worry about me.”
“Right...” She leaned over to kiss him. “Love you, Skippy.”
“Love you too, baby girl.”
Sam left him to sleep and went back to the living room. “He’s awake and feeling a bit feverish if you ask me.”
“I’ll check on him.”
“You’ll let me know if you need me, right? Anytime—day or night.”
“I know where to find you. Thanks, honey. You girls and your families have been a godsend to both of us. You should see the way your dad lights up when Scotty comes to visit.”
“Scotty adores him.” She leaned over to kiss Celia. “Hang in there. I’ll check in tomorrow.”
“See you then.”
Her heart heavy and burdened by her father’s deteriorating health, Sam left his house and headed down the ramp. In the three years since he’d been shot, their lives had been a roller-coaster ride with more downs than ups, especially lately. They’d known, of course, that they were living on borrowed time. The surgery had given them hope that had been dashed in the weeks since. Things weren’t getting better. They were getting worse by the day.
As she trudged up the ramp to her house, she was further disturbed by the unsettling thought that if her father died, they wouldn’t need the ramp anymore. “No,” she said out loud. “He’s not going to die. That’s not going to happen.”
The agent working the door opened it for her. “Good evening, Mrs. Cappuano.”
“Hi.” As she wondered if he’d heard her talking to herself, she took off her coat and laid it over the sofa.
Nick came out of the kitchen wearing an apron and looking positively adorable in the new Harvard T-shirt she’d bought him for Christmas and the worn, faded jeans she loved on him. Sexiest vice president in the history of the universe. “Hey, babe.”
Sam wanted to shake off her worries to focus only on him and Scotty, but the sight of his handsome face broke the grip she’d had on her emotions.
Fortunately, he realized right away and took her by the hand to tow her to the kitchen. “Could we have the room, please?” he asked the agent, who was sitting at the table reading the paper.
“Of course.” The agent got up and left the room.
Nick put his arms around her. “What’s wrong?”
“Where’s Scotty?”
“He went upstairs as soon as there were dishes to be done. Talk to me, babe.”
“My dad... I just saw him and Celia. It’s bad and getting worse.�
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“I know. Scotty was upset about it earlier too. He asked why there’s nothing we can do. I told him I’d make some calls tomorrow.”
“Like official calls?”
“Are there any other kind from the White House?”
“Can’t you get in trouble for that?”
“For reaching out to some of the best doctors in our country who might be able to help my father-in-law, a high-ranking police officer who was shot in the line of duty? Let them make a thing of that for all I care.”
Sam tightened her hold on him and breathed in his familiar scent. His nearness calmed her in a way that nothing else could. “You should care. This is a whole new ball game for you.”
“Trust me when I tell you I don’t care. If it blows up into a huge scandal but we find some help for him, I still won’t care.”
“Thank you. I’m not even going to argue with you because I feel so desperate.”
“I’ll do whatever I can for him—and for you.” He held her for a long time, until she was finally able to relax into his embrace. Running his hand up and down her back, he said, “You must be hungry.”
“I could eat.”
“Scotty and I made sauce.”
“From scratch?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Show-off.”
“I learned a few things growing up with an Italian grandmother. Want me to make you a plate?”
“In a minute,” she said. “I need a little more of this first.”
“As much as you want whenever you want it.”
“All the time. What did I ever do before I had you to come home to?”
He released the clip that held up her hair and combed his fingers through the unruly curls that fell below her shoulders. “I love when you come home to me. Every night, when you come in, I realize I’ve been holding my breath all day waiting to see you, to know you’re safe...”
She raised her head and looked up at him.
He framed her face and gazed into her eyes as he kissed her softly and sweetly. Then he leaned his forehead against hers. “We need a date in the loft tonight.”
“Yes, please.”
“First, let me feed you.”
Reluctantly, Sam released her hold on him and took a seat at the table. He poured a glass of the chardonnay she loved and then brought her a plate of pasta with the sauce he and Scotty had made. “Smells amazing.”