by Marie Force
“I wish I’d felt that was an option.”
“You need to tell Hope about this.”
Faith shook her head. “Never.”
“I’m going to get him, Faith. I’ll dig and dig and dig until I find something I can bury him with. If he didn’t shoot my dad, I’ll find something else. And then I’ll take my case right to Forrester himself so Gardner won’t have any reason to come at you or your family.”
“What about your family?”
“I’ll take care of them.”
“Don’t underestimate him, Sam. I’ve seen a lot of evil in my time in this office, but I’ve never gotten the vibe from anyone else that I got from him. I can’t even describe it.”
“Leave it to me. I’ll take care of him. And when I’m done with him, he won’t be threatening anyone, let alone an assistant U.S. attorney.”
“Be careful. Be very, very careful.”
Sam flashed a cocky grin. “Always am.”
“Keep me posted.”
“Not this time. If I leave you out of it entirely, there’s no way it can come back on you.”
“Thanks, Sam.”
“You can thank me after we throw the book at this guy.”
“Believe me, I will.”
“See you at the wedding?”
“I’ll be there.”
Sam left Faith’s office and found Freddie flipping through a magazine in the reception area. “Cruz, let’s hit it.”
Startled by her sudden reappearance, Freddie leaped to his feet, and the magazine went flying. He stopped to retrieve it, tossed it on a table and hustled after her. “Where’re we going, boss?”
“To nail a scumbag.”
“One of my favorite things.”
Chapter 4
“Are you going to tell me what happened in there?” Freddie asked as Sam drove them back to HQ.
Sam took a moment to think it over. “I’m going to tell you and Captain Malone and no one else.”
“Okay.”
She conveyed what Faith had told her.
“Holy shit,” Freddie muttered. The rare curse told Sam how affected he was by the story. “What’s the plan?”
“We’re going to nail his ass—for Faith and the woman he raped.” Sam swallowed hard, thinking of her colleague, Detective Jeannie McBride, who’d been abducted and brutally raped during a recent investigation. Jeannie said she planned to attend the wedding, but Sam would believe it when she saw it. Jeannie had barely left her boyfriend Michael’s home since being released from the hospital.
“What’s the first step?”
“I’m going to see Ramsey—the SVU detective who handled the rape case. While I’m there, I want you to pull every single thing you can find on Gardner. No detail is too small.”
“Got it.”
“Keep a lid on this, Cruz. I mean it. Faith would lose her job if this ever came to light, not to mention what the bar association might have to say about it.”
“I get that the stakes are high.”
“I know I can trust you or I wouldn’t have told you.”
Sam’s cell phone chimed with the tune of “When You Wish Upon a Star.” She withdrew it from her coat pocket and flipped it open, groaning. “Goddamn it.”
Freddie scowled at her. He hated when she took the Lord’s name in vain. “What’s wrong?”
“Freaking Tinker Bell, reminding me I have my final dress fitting at six.” She glanced at her watch. Just after five. Where the hell had this day gone? “I’m going to hit SVU before I head out of here. You’re on the rest?”
“Yep.”
“Shoot me a report at home. I’ll authorize overtime.”
“For what?” asked a voice behind her.
Sam spun around to find her captain and mentor standing with his hands on his hips, his silver eyebrows knitted.
“Has there been a murder I don’t know about?”
Pressed for time, Sam glanced at Freddie. “Will you please fill in the captain?”
“You got it.”
“Dress fitting,” Sam said sheepishly.
Malone grinned. “Will you take video so we can laugh at you later?”
The phrase “bite me” was on the tip of her tongue.
“She has something she’s dying to say,” Freddie said, sharing a laugh with the captain.
God, she couldn’t wait to get the wedding behind her. “Get to work, Cruz.”
He choked back a grin and said, “Yes, ma’am.”
Sam forced a phony smile for her boss. “Captain.”
“Lieutenant.” He tapped his watch. “Don’t be late now.”
“Bite me,” she muttered under her breath and felt better even as laughter followed her out. Navigating her way through HQ, she took the elevator to the third floor where the special victims unit resided. Sam asked the department’s admin assistant for Detective Ramsey.
“One minute, Lieutenant. Let me see if he’s available.”
While she waited, Sam made a quick call to her sister Tracy to let her know she hadn’t forgotten about the fitting and would be there shortly. She knew she’d been a bit of a handful as a distracted bride. That was why Shelby, the wedding planner she called “Tinker Bell,” had programmed reminders into her cell phone. Without them, Sam would’ve been even more of a disaster. She had no doubt it would be a wonderful, beautiful, memorable day. But she was ready for the hoopla to be over and life to return to normal.
That thought made her laugh to herself. Since reconnecting with Nick six years after a memorable one-night stand, her life had been anything but “normal,” and she wouldn’t have it any other way. Suddenly, she was anxious to see him, to be with him, to feel the way she did just being in the same room with him. She’d missed him, and it was time to get things back on track between them.
“Lieutenant?” the admin said. “Detective Ramsey will see you in the conference room. Right this way.”
Sam followed the young woman through a maze of cubicles so recently renovated that the new-carpet smell was overpowering. When, she wondered, would her own beleaguered pit get a much-needed face-lift? She made a mental note to take that up with Chief Farnsworth. After she’d closed three high-profile murder cases in short order, he owed her a few favors.
Detective Ramsey was in his mid-fifties with a salt-and-pepper crew cut and a no-nonsense demeanor. “What can I do for you, Lieutenant?”
“I’m interested in an old case of yours, a sexual assault. Darius Gardner was charged but never tried.”
His no-nonsense expression became stormy. “Because AUSA Faith Miller totally screwed me over. And then my vic refused to testify. I’ve always suspected Miller said something to her.”
That part was news to Sam. Faith had never mentioned advising the victim not to testify. In light of what Faith had told her, Sam demised that it was far more likely that Garner had threatened his victim. “Would it be possible to get your file and notes on the case?”
“For what purpose?”
“I’m looking into a cold case, and his name came up.”
He thought it over. “Give me a minute.”
“That’s about all I have. Should I come back tomorrow?”
“I have it handy. I’ll be right back.” He returned and handed her the file. “You’ll get it back to me?”
“Absolutely. Appreciate the courtesy.”
“If you wouldn’t mind, keep me in the loop. What happened with this one… it stays with you, you know?”
Sam thought of Quentin Johnson. “I do know, and I’ll be happy to keep you informed.”
“You’re quite the little star around here.”
Taken aback by his tone, Sam weighed her words carefully. “If you say so.”
“Must be nice.”
Okay, there was no denying the snide that time. “Something on your mind, Detective?”
“No, ma’am.”
Sam made a mental note to look into Ramsey’s career trajectory—or lack thereof. She was easi
ly twenty years younger and outranked him by two grades, which she suspected was one reason for his derision.
“Congratulations,” he said, seeming to make an effort to be more conciliatory. “On your wedding.”
“Thank you. Speaking of that, I’m late. Thanks again for the information.”
He nodded, and she felt his eyes—and those of everyone in the division—on her as she made her way through the maze of cubicles.
Well, that was pleasant. If there was one thing about her new life with Nick that Sam couldn’t bear it was all the press scrutiny of their relationship. It was relentless and had brought her far more attention than she wanted or needed as a cop. She put up with it because she knew it furthered Nick’s campaign and career, but it didn’t do much for hers.
On the way to Tinker Bell’s fashionable Georgetown storefront, Sam made an effort to shake off the unsettling day and slip into bride mode. Even though she’d had the big white wedding once before and would’ve been perfectly satisfied to fly off to Vegas and elope, this would be Nick’s first marriage. In the six weeks since she’d lost a bet with him and let him set their wedding date, she’d often had to remind herself that she was doing all this for him.
Sam hustled into the store at ten after the hour. Waiting for her were her sisters Tracy and Angela, who was round with her second pregnancy, as well as Tracy’s daughters, fifteen-year-old Brooke and seven-year-old Abby, who were serving as Sam’s junior bridesmaids. As usual lately, Brooke looked put out by the whole thing while Abby glowed with excitement. She came running when she saw Sam.
“Sam! You’re here!”
“Hey, doll face.” Sam scooped up the little girl and twirled her around, her heart clutching when she remembered the conversation with Faith. While she’d like to think she knew exactly what she would’ve done in the same situation, Abby’s chubby arms around her neck and the scent of strawberry shampoo clinging to her blond curls gave Sam pause. Was there anything she wouldn’t do to protect this child? To protect any of the four children she loved with all her heart?
No, there wasn’t. As Abby clung to her, Sam understood why Faith had done what she did.
“Oh, there you are, honey.” Sam’s stepmother Celia stepped out from a back room wearing the lavender mother-of-the-bride gown they’d chosen weeks earlier.
“Looks fantastic, Celia.” Sam put Abby down to take a measuring look at the woman who’d married her father on Valentine’s Day. Celia had auburn hair, green eyes and a heart-shaped face that was flushed with excitement at the moment.
“I love it too.”
Shelby Faircloth came into the room, dressed in yet another of her endless supply of pink power suits and sky-high heels. Even with the heels, the petite blonde barely reached Sam’s shoulder. “Oh yay,” she said, clapping when she saw Sam. “Everyone’s here. Let’s get started.”
“Oh yay,” Brooke said with a sneer for Shelby.
Since she was bringing up the rear, Sam witnessed the smack upside the head Tracy gave her oldest daughter. “Snap out of it,” Tracy said in a low tone. “Despite what you think, it’s not all about you this week.”
“Fuck off,” Brooke said.
Sam mouth fell open. When had her adorable niece turned into such a brat?
Tracy hung back. “Sorry about that.”
“What the hell, Trace?”
“She’s a pain in my ass.”
“You let her talk to you like that?”
“Let her?” Tracy snorted. “How do you suggest I stop her?”
“Take her phone. Take everything.”
“Done it. A hundred times. She doesn’t give a shit.”
Angela came back for them. “Are you guys coming?”
“Yeah,” Tracy said.
Sam nodded to Angela who went back to rejoin the others. To Tracy, she said, “If there’s anything I can do…”
“Don’t worry about us. This is your week.”
“But still—”
“Let’s get this bride into her dress,” Tracy said, dragging Sam along with her. “I don’t know about you guys, but I can’t wait to see her.”
Sam drove home thinking about the ugly scene with Brooke, which had overshadowed the thrill of seeing her wedding ensemble finally and fully fitted to her. After Sam wore one of her dresses at a White House State Dinner, Vera Wang herself had contacted Tinker Bell about designing Sam’s dress. The ivory silk dress was strapless and formfitting on top, flaring into a full, embroidered skirt with no train. Sam loved it and had a feeling Nick would too.
She cringed when she remembered Shelby flipping out about the bruise the birth control shot had left on her arm. It had never occurred to Sam that it would leave such a big mark. Post flip-out, Shelby had assured her they could cover the bruise with makeup on Saturday. Sam was far more concerned about explaining it to Nick who kept a running inventory of her injuries.
She hated keeping things from him, but she didn’t want to upset him the week of their wedding by getting into an emotional discussion about the baby they’d lost. Sam simply couldn’t talk about that subject without coming unglued, and her emotions were already raw enough without tearing off that scab during this of all weeks. She’d tell him when they were on their honeymoon, when they were relaxed and removed from the stress of work and wedding planning.
That was the best plan. Hopefully, once she got around to telling him, he’d understand why she’d gotten the shot and why she’d kept it from him. Pulling up in front of their townhouse on Ninth Street, Sam debated stopping over to see her dad before going home. Since she’d moved in with Nick, she tried to see her dad every day, but right now she wanted Nick. She decided to go by her dad’s house before work in the morning.
Grabbing the Gardner file, she stood outside their place, taking a moment to appreciate the ramp Nick had had installed as a surprise for her so they could have her dad over. When she’d first seen the wreckage of their front stairs, she’d mistakenly thought her newly freed ex-husband had planted another bomb. The sight had given her a few rough moments before Nick arrived and set her straight. That he’d opened their home to her paralyzed father meant the world to her. There was no denying that her fiancé was one of a kind.
Anxious to see him, Sam hustled up the ramp and used her key in the door. Inside she was greeted by the smell of something mouthwatering and candlelight flickering in the dining room. He emerged from the kitchen wiping his hands on a towel with his BlackBerry tucked into his shoulder.
“You’re sure you’re okay with staying with Sam’s sister Angela and her family Saturday night?” He paused to listen. “Right, Jack’s parents. You met them at the dinner at Sam’s dad’s house. They’ll drive you home on Sunday.” Nick laughed and winked at Sam. “I’ll be there at noon on Friday. See you then, buddy. Okay. Bye.”
“How’s Scotty?” Sam asked.
“All kinds of excited about me signing him out of school on Friday.” Nick had met the twelve-year-old at a state home for children in Richmond, and the two had formed a fast friendship based initially on their shared love of the Boston Red Sox. The boy had spent a recent weekend with Sam and Nick, and hadn’t seemed to mind following Nick around on the campaign trail. Sam suspected there was nowhere the boy wouldn’t go if it meant he got to spend more time with Nick, something she could certainly understand.
“Did you remember to order his tux?” she asked.
“All taken care of.”
“Of course it is. Do you ever screw anything up? Forget something? Ever act like a normal person who occasionally drops one of the seventy-five thousand balls he has in the air at one time?”
Smiling, he said, “Once in a while.”
“Will you let me know the next time it happens? I’d really like to savor the moment.”
“You got it.” He planted a kiss on her forehead and took her coat, hanging it as he always did in the front closet. Sam would’ve tossed it over the sofa. Why hang it up when she’d just need it again in th
e morning?
“How was the fitting?” he asked.
“It was great, and the best part? It was the last one.”
He chuckled. “How’s it looking?”
Sam made a face and shrugged. “Eh. You know. A dress is a dress.”
“Are you trying to lower my expectations?”
“I’d really hate for you to be disappointed.”
With his fingers on her chin he tilted her face to meet his intense gaze. “You could wear a burlap sack, and I wouldn’t be disappointed—as long as you’re in it, and as long as I get to take it off you afterward.” He punctuated the statement with a sweet kiss.
Whenever he looked at her in that particular way, she positively melted. “Now you tell me! You couldn’t have saved me all those damned fittings by telling me that six weeks ago!”
That smile of his… Whoa, so potent.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“Starved. What’s for dinner?”
“Roast chicken, mashed potatoes and vegetables.”
“When did you have time to roast a chicken?”
“The grocery store did the roasting. I just bought it and brought it home.”
“Which is the most important part of the equation. Smells great.”
He led her to the dining room, held her chair and poured her a glass of wine.
Sam couldn’t remember the last time one of them had cooked a meal at home. Lately they’d been grabbing meals here and there on the fly. There’d been none of the quality time she’d grown accustomed to since they’d been together.
The meal he’d prepared was tasty and filling, and they lingered over the bottle of white wine.
“Didn’t you have a campaign event tonight?”
“I postponed it. Told them I felt the flu coming on.”
“Why?”
“Because I had more important things to do tonight.”
“What things?”
“Dinner with you, for one.”
“Nick,” she said, touched by the gesture. “You’re in the middle of a campaign. You can’t be skipping important events.”
“If one missed cocktail party costs me the election, then it was never mine to begin with.” He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips, a gesture so uniquely his that it never failed to set her heart to racing. “I’ve missed you. Things have been so hectic that we’ve barely seen each other. I hate that.”