by Marie Force
“Agent Hill and his team are convinced that Piedmont had nothing to do with it. Piedmont had been back in touch with Armstrong for months. They were living in plain sight while Armstrong continued to promote the software he’d founded. If Piedmont wanted to take him out, he’d had ample opportunity. It’s time to shift our focus. Let’s find Klein.”
“Might be a stretch, Sam,” Freddie said. “This is pure speculation on our part.”
“Understood, but I spoke with Klein’s parole officer, who believes Klein is capable of something like this. He’s been escalating, moving from petty shit to assault and did time for B&E. According to the reports, Cleo took a piece of his ass after the accident, so that might’ve pissed him off enough to hunt her down to teach her a lesson about how to speak to him. Perhaps he took one look at that crib in Chevy Chase and dollar signs started dancing in his eyes.”
“We know she withdrew a hundred grand from the bank the same afternoon as the home invasion,” Green said. “My first stop after this is the bank where she made the withdrawal.”
“A hundred K wasn’t enough for Klein,” Sam said, feeling the buzz of certainty that she was onto something with this theory. That buzz never disappointed her. “He owed that much in back child support. I want to know who Jameson called to get more money. The kind of cash they had isn’t just sitting at the local branch. It would be in brokerage accounts that aren’t as easily accessible. Get me a call to a broker, a financial adviser, someone who can confirm they made the request.”
“I can give it a few more hours,” Carlucci said. “If that would help.”
“I’ll take all the help I can get.”
“I’ll stay too,” Dominguez added.
“Thank you both. I’ve got an errand to do outside the building, but I’ll be back shortly. Get to it. Cruz, you’re with me.”
Sam went into her office to grab her jacket, keys and portable radio.
“Where’re we going?” Cruz asked.
She kept her voice low when she said, “To see Gonzo before he leaves for rehab.”
Freddie’s eyes went wide with shock. He released a deep breath. “Oh.”
“Needless to say, he probably won’t be at your wedding. I know that’s a huge disappointment to you, but this is truly in his best interest.”
“I know.”
“Could you ask Will to stand in for him in the wedding party?”
“I suppose so. He’d do it.”
“Yes, he would, and he’d be honored to be asked. I’m really sorry this is happening, this of all weeks, Freddie.”
“So am I, but if it means he’s getting what he needs, then it’s worth it.”
“You’re a good friend. It’ll mean a lot to him to hear you say that. That’s why I wanted you to come with me.”
They headed for the morgue exit where they were waylaid by Lindsey McNamara. “I was going to call you. I need to know who to contact within the Beauclair family about arrangements for the bodies.”
“I’ll speak to Mr. Beauclair’s son Elijah later today about what he wants to do.” She told Lindsey how their younger son had witnessed the crime.
“Oh dear God.”
“I’ll have Elijah get in touch with you.”
“There’s no rush. Whenever he’s ready.”
“I’ll let him know that. Thanks, Lindsey.”
“Heard the trip was pared down to a week. Did you have anything to do with that?”
“Maybe,” Sam said, with a sly smile. “Maybe not.”
“Either way, you won’t hear me complaining.”
“Me either. See you later.”
Sam and Freddie drove to GW in unusual silence, both of them tense about what they would hear from Gonzo. She pulled into a parking space outside the emergency department and shut off the car. “What’re you thinking?”
“I’m wondering how I didn’t notice he was so messed up. I’m with him every day. He’s one of my best friends.”
“I asked Trulo that same question this morning—about myself. What kind of boss or friend am I if he was in such bad shape and I didn’t notice. He said Gonzo didn’t want us to know. It’s not going to do either of us any good to blame ourselves. All we can do now is support him—and Christina—going forward.”
Freddie nodded in agreement, but Sam could tell he was still troubled by what he’d missed.
Hell, she was too.
They showed their badges at the info desk and were given Gonzo’s room number. In the elevator, several people did double takes when they recognized Sam, but she ignored them. She wasn’t in the mood to play gracious second lady. Not when she had far bigger things to contend with.
Outside Gonzo’s room, Sam glanced at Freddie before she knocked.
“Come in.”
They stepped into the room, and Sam’s eyes had to adjust to the darkness after the brightly lit hallway. The blinds were drawn, and only a small light over the bed was on.
Gonzo looked like hell. His eyes were swollen and rimmed with red, his jaw covered in stubble and his dark hair stood on end. “Hey,” he said, averting his gaze as if ashamed.
Sam hated that for him. “How’re you doing?”
“Never been better,” he said with a tight little smile. “They’re weaning me off the pain meds. Good times all around.”
Sam noticed a puke bucket sitting close at hand.
Gonzo glanced at Freddie. “I’m really sorry about the timing.”
“Don’t be. Your health is more important than anything.”
“I’ll be really sad to miss it.”
“We’ll take a lot of pictures for you.”
“That’d be nice.”
“What can we do for you, Tommy?” Sam asked.
“Check in with Christina while I’m gone?”
“We will. Definitely.”
“I’m sorry about work. I know this leaves you in a lurch with the honeymooner here out the next two weeks.”
“Don’t worry about us,” Sam said. “Malone said to tell you we’ve got you covered.” She didn’t mention her unplanned week off, because that would only add to his stress. Under normal circumstances, he’d be in charge while she was away. Now Malone would have to do it.
“What’s going on with the case?”
Sam told him about the breakthrough with Alden.
“Christ, and I think I’ve got problems,” he said. “That poor kid.”
“We’re taking good care of him.”
The door opened, and Christina came in, carrying Alex, who gave a happy squeal at the sight of his daddy.
“We’ll go and give you guys some time alone,” Sam said, squeezing his arm. “Call if you need anything at all and let us know when you’re ready for visitors.”
“Will do. Thank you.” Gonzo reached out a hand to Freddie, who took it and leaned in to give his friend a hug. “Have the best day ever on Saturday. I’ll be thinking of you and Elin.”
“Take care of yourself, bud. We’re here if you need us.”
“That means a lot.”
“I’ll check in with you,” Sam said to Christina, who nodded.
Freddie turned to the door, his jaw tight with tension.
As they walked toward the elevator, Sam put her hand on Freddie’s back, more determined than ever to make sure he had a perfect day on Saturday, even if the life swirling around them would never be perfect or simple. For one day, he and Elin deserved nothing less than perfection.
* * *
CHRISTINA APPROACHED THE bed tentatively, shocked by Tommy’s disheveled appearance.
He held out his arms, and she handed Alex to him.
“Hey, buddy,” Tommy said, kissing the little guy’s cheek and neck until he squealed with laughter.
A sight she’d seen a million times before brought
tears to her eyes, knowing it would be at least a month before they saw him again. That felt like a lifetime.
She’d told Alex that Daddy wasn’t feeling good and that he had to be gentle, so Alex snuggled into his father’s embrace rather than trying to wrestle with him as usual.
Tommy held out a hand to her.
Christina took it, because she still loved him, even after the hell he’d put her through.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes brimming with tears. “I know I’ve asked so much of you, but if I could just have a little more time to get my shit together, I promise things will be better.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Tommy,” she said, wiping tears.
“I owe you so much, babe. What you’ve done for me—and for Alex.”
“Is because I love you both. I want you back. I want my Tommy back.”
“I’m going to do my best to find him.”
“Are you sick, Daddy?” Alex asked.
“Yeah, buddy. I’m not feeling good at all. But I’m going to get better. I promise.”
Alex patted Tommy’s face, making her throat tighten with emotion.
“Daddy sad. Don’t want Daddy sad.”
“I don’t want that either,” Tommy said, hugging his son as tears streamed down his face.
Christina wept for both of them. For all of them. For A.J. and the life that had been stolen from him, his parents, sisters, colleagues and the devoted partner who blamed himself.
Dr. Anderson came into the room, stopping short at the sight of Christina and Alex. “I can come back.”
“No, it’s fine,” Tommy said. “This is my fiancée, Christina Billings, and our son, Alex.”
Hearing him call Alex their son went a long way toward consoling Christina.
“I’ve made arrangements with the rehab in Baltimore,” Anderson said. “They said you can get there anytime today. I want you to go right from here to there with no stops in between. I’ll take you myself if need be.”
“That’s not necessary,” Christina said. “I’ll take him. I brought his bag with me. I just need to drop Alex at the sitter, and then we can go.”
“If you want to go do that,” Anderson said, “I’ll make sure he’s ready when you return.”
“My lawyer is going to stop by,” Tommy said. “I need to see him before I go so I can make Christina Alex’s legal guardian. He should be here anytime.”
“Great,” Anderson said, heading for the door. “I’ll start the discharge paperwork, so you’re ready when Christina returns.”
“He seems really nice,” Christina said.
“He’s been great. He’s the one who talked me into going.”
“Then I guess we owe him a debt of gratitude.”
“Hey, buddy,” Tommy said to Alex. “Daddy has to go away on a trip for a little while, so I can feel better. Will you do me a huge favor while I’m gone?”
Alex nodded solemnly, his eyes big as he looked back at the father he resembled so closely, right down to the dimple in his chin.
“I need you to be a really, really good boy for Mommy, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy.”
“Do whatever she asks you to, and if you’re a really, really good boy, I’ll have a surprise for you when I get home.”
“I’ll be good, Daddy. I promise.”
Tommy sobbed quietly as he hugged his son.
Alex never squirmed or tried to get free the way he normally would. Rather, he let Tommy hold him for as long as he needed to. And when Tommy finally released him, Alex wiped the tears from his father’s face and kissed him. “Love you, Daddy.”
“Love you too, little man.”
Mopping up more tears, Christina reached for the child, who held on tight to her. “I’ll be back,” she said.
“I’ll be here.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CAMERON AND JEANNIE were waiting outside the door to the local branch of the National Deposit Bank & Trust when it opened at nine o’clock. He had calls into financial advisers who’d worked with Jameson Beauclair, hoping one of them would’ve gotten a call from him during the home invasion.
They showed their badges to the manager, who held up his hands to keep them from advancing into the bank. “I’m not authorized to speak to you. You’ll need to contact our corporate office in New York.”
“What we need to speak to you about happened here,” Cameron said firmly. “So you will talk to us, or we’ll arrest you for interfering in a homicide investigation.”
“We don’t know anything about any homicides,” the manager said, his face red with agitation.
“I want to talk to the teller who assisted Cleo Beauclair with the withdrawal of one hundred thousand dollars on Monday afternoon.” To the tellers watching anxiously from behind the counter, Cameron said, “Which one of you assisted her with that withdrawal?”
A dark-haired young woman raised her hand. “I did.”
Cameron and Jeannie pushed past the protesting manager and went to talk to her.
“Your name?” Cameron asked.
“Sarah Braxton,” she said, handing him her business card.
“Sarah, shut your mouth,” the manager said. “We’re not allowed to talk to anyone without corporate’s approval.”
“If she doesn’t talk to us, we’ll arrest you both,” Jeannie said. “We can talk here or downtown. Your choice.”
“I’ll do it right here,” Sarah said with a defiant look for the manager. “I told him there was something strange about that transaction, but he said I’m not paid to psychoanalyze our customers and that I was to shut up and do my job.”
“He didn’t want to deal with it because he’d have to get corporate involved, and that’s a hassle,” one of the other tellers said.
“I’ll have your jobs,” the manager said, sputtering with outrage.
Cameron glanced at Jeannie, who walked over to the manager. “You’re under arrest for interfering with a homicide investigation.” Jeannie had his hands cuffed behind his back before he realized what was happening. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”
The tellers appeared stunned and possibly gleeful as their manager was hauled out of the building.
“Couldn’t happen to a better guy,” Sarah said. “I knew something was wrong about that transaction, but he wouldn’t let me call the police. I almost called on my own, but I was afraid of losing my job.” Her eyes filled. “I’m a single mom, and I need this job.”
“Take me through it from the minute she approached your window and tell me what happened.”
“She was really nervous. Her hands were shaking, and it took two tries to punch in her code on the keypad.”
“Had you seen her before?”
“No, never.”
“Can you describe the man who was with her?”
“He was tall with dark hair. He had on a black coat and reflective sunglasses that made it impossible to see his eyes. He never said a word, but I could tell she was afraid of him. And she kept looking outside. It was all very weird, which is what I told Lenny, but he said I should shut up and mind my own business, that she and her husband were excellent customers and didn’t need us nosing into their business.” Her eyes filled. “Then I saw on the news that their house had burned, and they were dead. I knew something was off. I should’ve called 9-1-1.”
Cameron felt for her. She would carry the guilt of her inaction with her for the rest of her life. “This is very helpful. Thank you.”
Sarah handed over another business card with an 800-number written on it. “That’s our corporate office in New York. You have to go through them to get the video.”
“I believe the FBI has already been in touch with them, but I’ll follow up.”
“I�
�m really sorry I didn’t make that call,” she said, wiping tears. “I’ll regret that forever.”
Cameron handed her his business card. “If you think of anything else that might be relevant, please call me. My cell number is on there.”
“I will.” She looked out the front door to where Jeannie had the bank manager in handcuffs and was leading him to Cameron’s car. “What’ll happen to him?”
“We’ll take him downtown, process him and charge him with a misdemeanor count of interfering with an investigation. He’ll probably be released before dinnertime. Unless we can’t get a judge to arraign him. In that case, he’ll spend the night as a guest of the city.”
“I sure would like to see that happen. He’s such an asshole. If he’d let me make that phone call, maybe those people would still be alive.”
“Perhaps the judges will be extra busy today.”
She smiled tearfully at him. “We can only hope.”
* * *
BRENDAN SULLIVAN CALLED as Sam and Freddie were on their way back to HQ. “You’re on speaker so my partner can take notes,” Sam said.
“No problem. I’ve got a call into Klein, who’d better call me back ASAP if he doesn’t want to get picked up, and I’ve got names and addresses of some of his associates.”
“Go,” Sam said, navigating morning traffic as Freddie took notes.
None of the names Sullivan gave them rang a bell with Sam. “Any of them have records?” Sam asked.
“All of them.”
Sam felt the nuts-on-the-block buzz that made this job so fucking exciting, usually when they were on the verge of nailing a murdering monster or two. “This is very helpful, thank you so much.”
“Happy to help. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Will do, and if I haven’t told you before, you’re my most favorite bureaucrat ever.”
“That is high praise,” Freddie said. “Trust me on that.”
Sullivan laughed. “In light of who your husband is, it’s very high praise indeed.”
“Okay, make that second favorite,” Sam said.
The two men laughed.