by Marie Force
Noel had been taken quickly in the foyer. Sam deduced that he’d opened the door and was shot before he had time to even say hello to the caller.
“He’s the number two guy at Justice,” she said with a smug smile for the cocky Alexandria detective who’d tried the hardest to keep her out. “You might want to let the attorney general know that his deputy’s been murdered.”
Flustered, the young detective said, “Yes, of course.”
Pleased to have defused some of his arrogance, she went upstairs to see what had been done to Natalie. She’d been bound in almost the exact same fashion as Tara. And like Tara, the blood between her open legs told the story of sadistic sexual torture. “Is that a hairbrush?” Sam asked, staring at the object that had been left in Natalie’s vagina.
“I think so,” the medical examiner said.
Sam grimaced. Judging from the ligature marks on Natalie’s neck, she too had been strangled after suffering through a prolonged attack.
Patricia was exacting revenge, one woman at a time.
The Alexandria Medical Examiner estimated time of death at about three hours prior. Sam’s gut clenched at the realization that Noel must’ve just gotten home from the polygraph when they were attacked. If she’d only pieced this together a little sooner, she might’ve been able to save them.
Since it wasn’t her crime scene, she stepped outside after asking the detectives for a courtesy copy of their report.
Nick was once again leaning against the car, waiting for her.
“Same thing as Tara.”
“Christ,” he whispered. “I didn’t like Natalie, but the thought of what she must’ve gone through…”
Sam ran her fingers through her long hair, fighting off exhaustion that clung to her like a heavy blanket. “I know.”
“I’ve been thinking…”
She glanced up at him to find his face tight with tension and distress. “About?”
“Graham and Laine.”
The statement hung in the air between them, the implications almost too big to process.
Sam tossed the keys to him. “You drive while I work.”
As they flew across Northern Virginia, Nick’s big frame vibrated with tension. “You don’t really think…”
“That she’d go after the people she blames for ruining her life? Yeah, I really think.”
“God, Sam. If she hurts them…” His voice broke.
She reached for his hand. “We may be way off.” But just in case they weren’t, she gave the Loudon County Police a heads up about potential trouble at the senior Senator O’Connor’s home. She also forwarded the list of ex-girlfriends that Christina had grudgingly sent to HQ with orders to place officers at each woman’s home. The officers were provided with photos of Patricia Donaldson and Thomas O’Connor—just in case she wasn’t acting alone. Issuing a second all-points bulletin for both of them, Sam could only pray that the cops got to the other women before anyone else was harmed.
“Should’ve seen this,” she muttered, hating that it had taken her so long to put it together. “So freaking obvious.”
“Don’t beat yourself up, babe.”
“Hard not to when the bodies are piling up.”
“I’ll bet I know why he was killed on the eve of the vote,” Nick said.
Sam glanced at him. “Why?”
“He decided the week before he was killed that he was definitely going to run for re-election. He probably told Patricia that. Maybe he’d promised her one term to satisfy his father and then it would be their time. If I’m right about that, she wouldn’t have wanted him to have the chance to bask in the glow of his big victory on the bill. Not when he was screwing her over—in more ways than one.”
“That makes sense,” Sam said, buzzing with adrenaline as all the pieces fell into place. Certain now that she was on her way to cracking the case, she called Captain Malone and Chief Farnsworth at home to update them on the latest developments.
“Get me an arrest, Sergeant,” the chief said, groggy with sleep.
“I’m moving as fast as I can, sir.”
After she ended the call, Nick reached for her hand. “Why don’t you close your eyes for a few minutes?
She shook her head. “I’d rather wait until I have a couple of hours. How about you? Are you okay to be driving?”
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”
“Too late.” She rested her head on his shoulder and went through the case piece by piece from the beginning. All along she’d suspected it would be a woman, one he was close to, who had a key to his place, who he wouldn’t have been surprised to find waiting for him in his apartment.
Her cell phone rang. “What’ve you got Jeannie?”
“Unfortunately, nothing. We can’t find them anywhere in the city.”
“Damn it. They must’ve checked in under other names.”
“That’s the hunch around here. We’re expanding into Northern Virginia and Maryland. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Thanks.”
A Loudon County Police cruiser was positioned at the foot of the O’Connors’s driveway when Sam and Nick arrived. He rolled down the window.
“Everything looks fine,” the young officer said. “The house is dark and buttoned down for the night. I walked all the way around but didn’t see anything to worry about.”
“Thanks,” Nick said. “We’re just going to take a quick look and then be on our way.”
“No problem. Have a nice evening.”
As Nick drove slowly up the long driveway, Sam studied him with new appreciation. He’d handled the young cop with aplomb—thanking him for checking but letting him know they were going to take their own look—without insulting the officer. “Smooth,” she said.
“What?”
“You. Just now.”
“You sound surprised that I can actually be diplomatic when the situation calls for it.”
She snorted with laughter.
“What’s so funny?”
“You are when you get all indignant.”
“I’m not indignant.”
“Whatever you say.”
They pulled up to the dark house, and Nick cut the engine. “I want to take my own walk around.”
Sam retrieved a flashlight from the glove box and reached for the door handle.
“Why don’t you stay here?” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
“The way you stay put when I tell you to?” She flipped on the flashlight in time to catch the dirty look he sent her way. “Let’s go.”
They walked the perimeter of the house, finding nothing out of the ordinary. In the backyard, Sam scanned the property. “Seems like everything is fine.”
“I want to see them to make sure.”
“Nick, it’s two-thirty in the morning, and their son’s funeral is tomorrow.”
He scowled at her. “Do you honestly think they’re sleeping?”
Realizing he was determined, she followed him to the front door and cringed at the sound of the doorbell chiming through the silent house.
A minute or so later, Graham appeared at the door wearing a red plaid bathrobe. His face haggard with grief, Sam deduced that he hadn’t slept in days.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Nick said, his voice infected with a nervous stammer. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but there’s been some trouble tonight. I wanted to check on you and Laine.”
Graham stepped aside to invite them in. “What kind of trouble?”
Nick told him about Tara and the Jordans.
“Oh God,” Graham whispered. “Not Natalie, too. And Noel…”
“We think it’s Patricia,” Sam said, gauging his reaction.
Graham’s tired eyes shot up to meet hers. “No… She couldn’t have. She loved John. She’d loved him all her life.”
“And she’d waited for him—fruitlessly—for her entire adult life,” Sam said.
“We think he told her he was running
for re-election,” Nick said.
“So she assumed he was choosing his career over her and Thomas,” Graham said.
“That’s the theory,” Sam said. “And we think she recently learned there were other women in his life.”
“Why are you worried about us?” Graham asked Nick. “We haven’t seen her since Thomas was born.”
“Because if she’s settling old scores, she certainly has a bone to pick with you,” Nick said.
Graham ran a trembling hand through his white hair. “Yes, I suppose she does.”
“I’d like to arrange for security for you and your wife until we wrap this up,” Sam said.
“If you think it’s necessary.”
Knowing what had been done to Tara, Natalie and Noel, Sam said, “I really do.”
Nick hugged Graham. “Why don’t you try to get some rest?”
“Every time I doze off, I wake up suddenly and have to remember that John is gone… I keep reliving it, over and over. It’s easier just to stay awake.”
Nick embraced the older man again, and when he finally released him, Sam saw tears in Nick’s eyes. “I know what you mean.”
“Yes, I suppose you do.”
“I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything.”
Graham patted Nick’s face. “I love you like one of my own. I hope you know that.”
His cheek pulsing with emotion, Nick nodded.
“There’s something I need to talk to you about after the funeral,” Graham said. “Save me a few minutes?”
“Of course.”
“Drive carefully,” Graham said as he showed them out.
Sam slipped her arm through Nick’s and led him from the house, taking the keys from his coat pocket on the way to the car. “Are you okay?” she finally asked once they were in the car.
After a long moment of silence, Nick looked over at her. “He’s never said that to me before. I’ve always sort of known it, but he’s never come right out and said the words.”
“You’re an easy guy to love—most of the time.”
His face lifted into the grin she adored. “Gee, thanks.”
“We’ve got to do something about your inability to follow orders, however.”
“Best of luck with that.” He linked his fingers with hers as she drove them down the long driveway. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For understanding why I needed to see with my own eyes that they’re okay.”
“They’re your people.”
“They’re all I’ve got.”
She squeezed his hand. “Not anymore.”
Chapter 35
On the way back to Nick’s house, Sam arranged for security at the O’Connor home and participated in a conference call with other HQ detectives to map out a plan for coverage of the funeral in the morning. If Patricia or Thomas showed up at the cathedral, they were prepared to snag them going in. Sam planned to wear a wire so she could communicate from the inside if need be. Because she knew Nick needed her support, she hoped she could get through the service without her job interfering, but she knew he’d understand if she had to leave. He wanted John’s killer caught as much as she did.
As she followed Nick into his house, she glanced at the front shrubs, recalling once again the sensation of being hurled through the air by the force of the bomb. She shuddered.
“What’s wrong, babe?”
“Nothing,” she said, trying to shake off feelings that were magnified by a serious lack of sleep.
“It’s going to take a while before we can walk in here and not think of it.”
“I’m fine,” she assured him, amazed once again by how tuned into her he was. “I just need a little more computer time.”
He hung their coats in the front hall closet and then stepped behind her to massage her shoulders. “What you need is sleep.”
“But—”
“No buts.” He steered her up the stairs to his bedroom.
Sam wished she had the energy to fight him as he undressed her and tucked her into bed.
“What about you?” she asked, smothering a yawn.
“I’m going to grab a shower. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“’K,” she said, her eyes burning shut.
While she waited for him, Sam’s mind wandered through everything that had happened during that long night, replaying each crime scene as she tried to hold off on sleep until Nick joined her. All at once, she snapped out of the languor to discover that nearly half an hour had passed since he’d left her to take a shower.
She got up and went into a bathroom awash in steam. Opening the shower door, she found him leaning against the wall, lost in thought. Quietly, she slipped in behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist.
He startled and then relaxed into her embrace. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”
“Can’t sleep without you. You’ve ruined me.” She pressed a series of kisses to the warm skin on his back. “Come on.”
He shut off the water.
Sam grabbed his towel and dried them both. Taking his hand, she led him to bed. Wrapped in his arms, she was finally able to sleep.
Walking into the National Cathedral for the first time in her life the next morning, Sam gazed up at the soaring spires like an awestruck tourist from Peoria.
She wondered if staring at the president of the United States and his lovely wife like a star-struck lunatic made her any less of a bad-assed cop. In all her years on the job and living in the city, she had caught occasional glimpses of various presidents, but never had she been close enough to reach out and touch one—not that she would because that would be weird of course. Not to mention the Secret Service might take issue with it.
But as President Nelson and his wife Gloria approached Nick to offer their condolences, Sam could only stand by his side and remind herself to breathe as he shook hands with them.
“We’re so very sorry for your loss,” Gloria said.
“Thank you, Mrs. Nelson. John would be overwhelmed by this turnout.” He gestured to the rows of former presidents, congressional members past and present, Supreme Court justices, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the secretaries of state, defense, homeland security and labor, among others. “This is Detective Sergeant Sam Holland, Metro Police.”
Sam was struck dumb until it dawned on her that she was supposed to extend her hand. To the president. Of the United States. And the first lady. Jesus. “An honor to meet you both,” Sam said.
“We’ve seen you in the news,” the president said.
Sam wanted to groan, but she forced a smile. “It’s been a unique month.”
Gloria chuckled. “I’d say so.”
Since both men were speakers, they were shown to seats in the front, adjacent to the O’Connor family. While Nick went over to say hello to them Sam scanned the crowd but saw no sign of Patricia or Thomas. Seated behind the O’Connors were most of John’s staff and close family friends whom Nick identified for her when he returned to sit next to her.
She glanced over to find him pale, his eyes fixed on the mahogany casket at the foot of the huge altar. He hadn’t eaten that morning and had even refused coffee. Looking back at the throngs of dignitaries, she couldn’t imagine how difficult it would be for him to stand before them to speak about his murdered best friend. Disregarding her PDA rule, she reached for his hand and cradled it between both of hers.
He sent her a small smile, but his eyes expressed his gratitude for her support.
The mass began a short time later, and Sam was surprised to discover Nick had obviously spent a lot of time in church. Since she’d been raised without formal religion, the discovery was somewhat startling.
John’s sister Lizbeth and brother Terry read Bible passages, and his niece and nephew lit candles. When both of them ran a loving hand over their uncle’s casket on their way back to their seats, Sam’s eyes burned, and judging by the rustle of tissues all around her, s
he wasn’t alone.
President Nelson spoke of his long friendship with the O’Connor family, of watching John grow up and his pride in seeing such a fine young man sworn in as a United States senator. As the president left the pulpit, he stopped to hug John’s tearful parents.
An usher tapped Nick on the shoulder. With a squeeze for Sam’s hand, he got up to follow the usher’s directions to the pulpit.
Unable to tear her eyes off Nick as he made his way to the microphone, Sam was swamped with love and sympathy and a jumble of other emotions. She sent him every ounce of strength she could muster.
“On behalf of the O’Connor family, I want to thank you for being here today and for your overwhelming outpouring of support during this last difficult week. Senator and Mrs. O’Connor also wish to express their love and gratitude to the people of the Commonwealth who came by the thousands to stand in the cold for hours to pay their respects to John. He took tremendous pride in the Old Dominion, and the five years he represented the citizens of Virginia in the Senate were the most rewarding, challenging and satisfying years of his life.”
Nick spoke eloquently of his humble beginnings in a one-bedroom apartment in Lowell, Massachusetts, of meeting a senator’s son at Harvard, of his first weekend in Washington with the O’Connors and how his exposure to the family changed his life.
Sam noticed the O’Connors wiping at tears. Behind them, Christina Billings, Nick’s deputy and the woman who’d suffered through unrequited love for John, rested her head on the communication director’s shoulder.
Nick’s voice finally broke, and he looked down for a moment to collect himself. “I was honored,” he continued in a softer tone, “to serve as John’s chief of staff and even more so to call him my best friend. It’ll be my honor, as well, to ensure that his legacy of inclusiveness and concern for others lives on long after today.”
Like the president before him, Nick stopped to embrace Graham and Laine on his way back to his seat.
Sam slipped her arm around him and brought his head to rest on her shoulder. At that moment, she couldn’t have cared less who might be watching or who might gossip about them later. Right now, all she cared about was Nick.