Fatal Identity

by Marie Force

  “Not sure how I feel about that.”

  “It’s a good thing,” Lilia assured her.

  “We’re still being overrun with interview requests for you,” Mackenzie said. “People are in love with you after the inaugural parade, as well as the interview you did with the vice president on the Good Morning show. I expect your popularity will soar even higher after this speech.”

  Sam grimaced at the thought of more attention. She’d managed to fend off most of it in the weeks since the inauguration, but everywhere she went people said something about her crowd surfing stunt. The way she saw it, she’d just been doing her job. That she happened to do it before an international audience was unfortunate for someone who preferred life below the radar.

  Andrea returned, and she and Lilia walked Sam to the White House briefing room.

  “I recognize this room,” Sam said.

  “You probably see it every day on the news,” Andrea said. “It’s where the White House press secretary—and occasionally the president himself—briefs the press.” She took Sam to the podium and pointed out the screens on either side that contained the text of her speech. “You want to run through it once to get a feel for the teleprompters?”

  “Um, sure, okay.” Sam managed to get through most of it without getting emotional, but the part about losing Nick’s baby had her throat closing. She cleared the lump from her throat and took a second to get her bearings before continuing.

  “That was great,” Lilia said when she had finished. “Really excellent delivery to say you aren’t a seasoned public speaker.”

  “I’m hardly seasoned. I’m more like a quivering virgin.”

  Lilia and Andrea laughed and then went silent when Nick stepped into the room.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Vice President,” Lilia said.

  “Good afternoon, ladies. Would you mind if I had a word with my wife?”

  “Of course,” Lilia said.

  “You did great,” Andrea said with a smile for Sam before she followed Lilia from the room.

  “I have to agree,” Nick said. “That was fantastic.”

  “How much of it did you hear?”

  “Enough to know you’ll knock the cover off the ball on Friday. I’m so proud of you, Samantha. I know how difficult this subject is for you to talk about in private, let alone in public.”

  Unnerved by his unexpected appearance as much as his praise, she gathered up the pages Andrea had put on the podium. “Hopefully it’ll do some good.”

  “It’ll do a lot of good.”

  “What’re you doing here?”

  “I work here.” He held out a hand to help her down the stairs from the podium. “And my reason for an extra sick day left with you.”

  Though she didn’t need the help, she took his hand anyway. “I’m sorry I told you to fuck off.”

  “I’m sorry I gave you reason to.”

  She smiled up at him, instantly relieved.

  He put his hands on her shoulders and gazed down at her. “I know I can trust you, Samantha. I know that. My issues on this topic are not about you.”

  “I wish there was some way I could make you see that you have nothing to worry about. I don’t want anyone but you. I can’t control what other people do or feel or say any more than you can. We can only control whether we let other people’s crap touch us.”

  “You’re right, and I’m going to try harder not to let that particular pile of crap touch us, but that doesn’t mean the thought of you away with him for the night doesn’t make me crazy.”

  “I’m not going to be with him overnight.”

  “If you’d get a freaking smartphone, we could FaceTime.”

  “And then you could confirm that I was alone in my room,” Sam said, irked by the insinuation.

  “No, then I could see your gorgeous face when I’m forced to go to bed without you.”

  She scowled at the smoothly delivered line. “Whatever you say.”

  He put his arms around her and kissed her forehead. “I couldn’t let you go with the way we left things at home. I love you too much not to tell you so before you leave.”

  Sam curled her arms around his waist, inside his suit coat. “I love you too, even when you’re irrational.”

  His huff of laughter made her smile as she breathed in the familiar scent of home. The thought of even one night without him was almost unbearable. “I’ve got to go.”

  “I know,” he said, but he made no move to release her. Rather, he held her closer. “Be careful with my wife. She’s everything to me.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  He pulled back to kiss her for real, lingering for only a second or two in light of where they were. “I guess that’ll have to hold me over until tomorrow.”

  “Somehow you’ll find a way to survive.”

  “Just barely.”

  He walked her back to her office to get her things and then saw her off in the same car that had delivered her to the White House, giving her one last kiss after he belted her into the backseat. “Call me later?”

  “I will.”

  “Safe travels, babe.”

  She patted his handsome face. “I’ll be back before you miss me,” she said, quoting his words when he left for Afghanistan with the president.

  “Doubtful.” Smiling, he closed the door and waved as the car began to move.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  RELIEVED TO HAVE put things back on an even keel with Nick, she placed a call to Malone to see where they were in the investigation.

  “We’re following a lead on Josh’s possible whereabouts,” he said briskly. “We got a tip from security at a hotel in Beltsville that a man matching Josh’s description was seen entering the hotel last night with another man. We’re knocking on doors now.”

  “God, I wish I was there.”

  “Don’t punch people, and you won’t be sidelined.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m on the way to the airport. Keep me posted?”

  “Yep. Gotta go.”

  Sam closed her phone and put it in her coat pocket. It truly sucked to be suspended when an investigation of this magnitude was heating up, but at least she could help by taking the trip to Knoxville with Hill. The car dropped her off at the departure level at Reagan National Airport.

  Hill was typing on his phone while he waited for her inside the terminal.

  Sam took note of the tense expression on his face. “Everything okay?”

  “Shelby’s unhappy about this trip.”

  “So is Nick.” Sam immediately felt disloyal to her husband for admitting that.

  “Honestly, they act like we had some sort of affair or something.”

  Sam wasn’t sure how to reply to that. She had never known what to say or do in the face of his obvious crush on her. She’d done nothing to encourage it, and the last thing she wanted to do now was acknowledge it.

  Eager to get away from him after one minute in his presence, she said, “I’m going to pick up my ticket.”

  “Already done.” He handed her the ticket.

  “Who paid for this?”

  “I did.”

  “Avery!”

  “Relax. You can pay me back later. I did it to save time. The plane is boarding in fifteen minutes. Let’s go.”

  As they went through security, Sam’s stomach began to ache for a whole other reason. The only thing she hated worse than flying was needles, and she’d seen more than her share of them in the last couple of years. It didn’t help her nerves that the sky had darkened with storm clouds as the day progressed. The thought of flying through stormy weather made her break out in a cold sweat.

  Of course Hill noticed. “What’s the matter with you? You’re all pale and pasty.”
/>   “I hate to fly. Like hate it with a capital H.”

  “Now you tell me.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Not your problem.” As they walked to their gate at the end of the concourse, Sam filled him in on what was going on in Beltsville. People pointed and stared at her when they recognized her. Sam ignored the attention as she always did. More than a few people took notice of her with a man who wasn’t her husband. She wondered if pictures of her and Avery would be all over social media before the day was out. Wouldn’t that be fantastic? “Any word on Jacoby?”

  “Nothing. It’s like he dropped off the face of the earth. People within the Bureau are worried that he’s dead too. They can’t think of any other reason we wouldn’t have heard from him after Hamilton was killed. They were the best of friends as well as colleagues.”

  “So there’s no chance he was the one who killed Hamilton?”

  “What? No. No chance at all.”

  “Just asking the question.” After an uncomfortable pause she said, “You have to admit the timing of his disappearance is curious.”

  “Curious. In what way?”

  He had to be in denial if he needed it spelled out for him. “Well, Hamilton is murdered, his son is abducted at gunpoint while in police custody and Jacoby goes missing. All on the same day. It’s curious.”

  “The only way it’s related is if Dustin was killed by the same person who killed Troy and took Josh.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I say so.”

  “Okay.” She raised her hands to fend him off. “Don’t get hostile.”

  “You don’t know these people like I do. It would be like me asking you if Conklin is capable of killing Farnsworth.”

  “And I would tell you after years of working Homicide, I’ve learned that everyone is capable of murder if they have the right motivation.”

  “So Mother Teresa could’ve been a murderer? The Pope could be a murderer? The President could be a murderer?”

  Sam shrugged. “I’m saying that everyone has that kind of rage inside them under the right circumstances.”

  “I disagree. There’s nothing that could make me want to take another person’s life.”

  “So if someone raped and murdered your three-year-old daughter, you wouldn’t want that kind of vengeance? Never say never, Avery.”

  Her example made him recoil. “You’re not right in the head, you know that?”

  “You think that’s the first time I’ve had someone say that to me? Admit it, under those circumstances, you could kill someone.” Before he could reply, her phone rang and she took the call. “Holland.”

  “It’s Malone. We’ve got Josh, but he’s in bad shape.”

  “How bad?”

  “EMTs couldn’t say, but he’s been knocked around pretty hard, and he’s unconscious. They suspect he’s been drugged.”

  “Great, so he can’t tell us who took him.”

  “We think they intended to kill him with whatever they gave him. He’s being transported now, and we’re notifying his mother.”

  “Maybe you ought to hold off on that.”

  “On notifying the mother?”

  Working a hunch, Sam said, “Yeah. I mean what if she’s in on it in some way? You guys said she was weird last night. I just have a feeling all is not as it seems there.”

  “So we let her think he’s still missing?”

  “For now.”

  “I’ve learned to trust your gut, so we’ll hold off for now. But if he takes a bad turn, we’ll have to call her.”

  “Understood. Let’s see what we find out in Knoxville and go from there.”

  “Call me after you talk to the admin.”

  “I will.”

  They boarded the plane a few minutes later, and when Sam realized it was one of the smaller commuter jets, she began to feel nauseated on top of anxious. She checked the seat-back pocket to make sure there was a barf bag in there. Just in case. She nearly asked to be removed from the plane when the pilot informed them that he expected a bumpy flight and as such there would be no beverage service.

  “Oh my God.” She wondered if it was too late to get off.

  “What?” Avery asked, looking up from his phone.

  “Did you hear what he said? The flight is going to be so bumpy they aren’t doing beverages.”

  “If it wasn’t safe, they wouldn’t let us go. It’ll be fine.”

  “Easy for you to say,” she muttered.

  Closing her eyes, Sam focused on the breathing exercises Trulo had taught her when her anxiety had been at an all-time high after Stahl attacked her. Trulo had suggested that she take a low dose prescription to fend off the anxiety, but she’d resisted, a decision she regretted as the plane taxied toward the runway. Her hands were sweaty, her stomach was doing somersaults and suddenly she had to pee. Urgently.

  The plane lifted into the air, rocking and rolling. Sam gripped the armrest and closed her eyes tight against tears that appeared out of nowhere.

  Avery’s hand covered hers. “Sam. Breathe. Sam!”

  She took a deep breath and then another, battling her way through the unreasonable fear. Everyone told her it was safer to fly than to drive, but even knowing that was true didn’t do a damn thing to alleviate her fear.

  “Are you okay?” Avery asked.

  “Mmm.”

  “You don’t look okay. You’re kind of green.”

  “Can’t talk.” Sam pulled her hand out from under his and crossed her arms. She’d never understand how anyone managed to sleep on an airplane.

  “You want to hear about the worst flight I was ever on? This one is nothing compared to that. It’ll make you feel better.”

  She shrugged. She didn’t really want to hear about it but was desperate for any sort of distraction.

  He told her about flying into a typhoon in the South Pacific, how the plane was repeatedly struck by lightning and how he’d been certain they were all going to die. At one point the plane lost ten thousand feet in altitude in the span of three seconds. People were screaming, stuff was flying around in the cabin and the pilots were urging everyone to remain calm.

  “As if,” he said. “We were anything but calm.” He continued to regale her with hideous flying stories from his years in the military as they climbed to cruising altitude, where they found slightly smoother air. His South Carolinian accent was nothing short of lyrical, and listening to him gave her something to do besides freak out.

  Sam was amazed to realize she had calmed down somewhat as he described the many ways the flight could be worse. “Thanks,” she said, looking over at him tentatively.

  He studied her with honey-brown eyes that were filled with concern and affection. She wanted neither from him, so she sat up straighter in her seat and turned toward the window rather than look at him. Thankfully, he took the hint, and they passed the remainder of the flight in silence.

  Sam had never been so glad to get off a plane in her life, including the thirteen-hour flight to Bora Bora. She choked back a groan thinking of how she’d be doing that flight again at the end of the month. At least they’d be on Air Force Two, which was a much bigger plane, and she was never as frightened to fly when Nick was with her.

  They walked up the Jetway and into the terminal, where a woman let out a shriek at the sight of her. Fantastic.

  “You! You’re the second lady! Oh my God, Henry! Get the camera.”

  Sam kept walking, but the woman gave chase and took a photo of her that had to include Avery as he was walking right next to her. Doubly fantastic. Thanks to the scene the woman had made, other people jumped on the bandwagon, snapping photos and screaming and yelling and other obnoxious things that made her grimace.

  “There goes our element of surprise,” Avery sa
id with a droll smile.

  “Sorry.”

  He waved off her apology and followed the signs to the rental car area. Twenty minutes later they were headed into downtown Knoxville, the GPS guiding them to Dowell Springs Boulevard. When they arrived, they parked and walked into the office together, badges at the ready. The main door to the office had been outfitted in black bunting in deference to Director Hamilton. A photo of him hung in the main lobby, and it too had been veiled in bunting.

  “Let me take the lead,” he said. “These are my people.”

  Though she usually hated to cede control of an interview, in this case, he was right. “I’m along for the ride.”

  The first person they encountered was one of Sam’s favorite things—a receptionist. Avery presented his badge at the reception desk. “I’m Special Agent-in-Charge Avery Hill, Criminal Investigative Division in D.C. This is Metro PD Lieutenant Sam Holland.”

  “Oh, Agent Hill,” the woman said. Sam figured her to be in her mid to late fifties. “We didn’t know you were coming—and with the vice president’s wife!”

  Sam wanted to groan and punch her. She did neither. Her days of punching people were over. For now, anyway.

  “I didn’t tell anyone I was coming. I’m looking for Danielle Koch. Is she here?”

  “I... I’m Danielle. Why are you looking for me?”

  “Is there somewhere we could talk? In private?”

  “I, um... Sure, I guess. Let me get someone to cover for me.” She made a call and spoke softly to the person on the other end. A minute later, another woman appeared to take Danielle’s place at the reception desk. She eyed Avery with suspicion and Sam with recognition.

  “You’re—”

  “I know.” Sam followed Danielle and Avery into the office, past cubicles of agents working on computers and telephones, to the conference room located in the back of the space.

  “What’s this about?” Danielle asked, the moment the door shut behind them.

  “Director Hamilton.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “It’s so awful what happened to him. We’re beside ourselves, especially those of us who knew him personally and worked with him.” She wiped away tears.