Fatal Accusation (The Fatal Series) Page 10

  “Nope.” Sam stepped back to give Lindsey and Byron access to Tara. “That’s one of many things we need to figure out. Now that you’re here with her, we’re going to get to it.”

  “I’ve got her.” Lindsey gazed at their victim with the compassion that made her the best at her grim job. “What a beautiful woman she was.”

  “I thought the same thing. It’s awful.”

  “She was very dynamic in person,” Byron said, gaining the attention of both women.

  “How do you know that?” Sam asked.

  “I’ve been following the story about her and Nelson online. I watched some YouTube videos that showed her working on the campaign. She had that special something that gets people to pay attention to her. What do they call it? Je ne sais quoi?”

  “Look at you, all bilingual, Dr. Tomlinson,” Sam said, amused even as her mind raced with next steps in the investigation.

  Byron scoffed. “Hardly. But whatever you want to call the it factor, she had it in spades. The woman was going to be a rock star long after Nelson was out of office.”

  “Thanks for the insight, Byron. It helps.” If nothing else, Byron had given her some threads to pull. Who else, besides Nelson, would have reason to want a so-called rock star like Tara dead?

  CHAPTER NINE

  SAM GESTURED FOR Freddie to follow her into the living room. Sam sat on the sofa across from the Patrol officer and the distraught young woman who’d discovered her employer dead in her bed. Sam focused on the witness. “Delany, I’m Lieutenant Sam Holland. This is my partner, Detective Cruz.”

  “I know who you are,” she said between sobs.

  Sam heard that a lot these days. Everyone knew who she was since her husband became vice president, which caused her heartburn on the job that she hadn’t had to contend with before his big promotion, not that she’d ever tell him that. He had more than enough on his mind where she was concerned.

  Delany’s face was red and blotchy, her eyes swollen.

  “Talk to me about Tara.”

  “She was the best person I’ve ever known. She’s helped me so much.”

  “How so?”

  “I was working as a barista in a coffee shop off campus my senior year at Georgetown.”

  The Patrol officer, a young black woman named Youncy, handed Delany another tissue.

  “Thank you.” Delany wiped her eyes and nose. “We got to know each other because she came in at the same time every day. I...I was a scholarship student paying my own expenses, and she commented on my work ethic. I told her I had big dreams. The next day she asked if she could hear about them. We met for coffee after my shift, and she became my mentor. After I graduated, she hired me to be her personal assistant.”

  Sam took notes as Delany spoke. This woman had the goods on Weber and would be their most valuable asset in this investigation. Her first order of business would be to arrange protection for Delany. An officer would be positioned outside her door until an arrest was made. “Did you travel with her during the campaign?”

  Delany nodded. “A couple of times. It was the most exciting thing I was ever part of.”

  “Were you aware of her affair with the president?”

  “Not until everyone else was.”

  “How’s that possible if you were her personal assistant?”

  “I wasn’t with her twenty-four hours a day. I was her professional assistant, not her babysitter.”

  Okay, Sam thought. She’s loyal to the woman, and understandably so. Tara plucked her out of a coffee shop and gave her a dream career.

  “Did you observe her interacting with the president?”

  Delany nodded. “She was a critical member of his campaign team, in charge of market research and polling. He was always coming to her for information. Gimme the numbers, T, he would say.”

  “But you had no inkling that there was more to their relationship than business?”

  “No one did. Everyone I’ve talked to from the campaign is shocked by the news they were involved on a personal level.”

  “Can you think of anyone who’d want her dead?”

  “No! Everyone loved her. She was just... She was amazing,” she said in a soft whisper. “I can’t believe she’s gone, and her little boy...” Delany’s eyes filled. “She loves him so much.”

  “Where will I find her parents and the baby?”

  Delany consulted her phone and gave Sam the parents’ address in Herndon. “She wanted him out of here for a few days until the story about her affair with the president died down.”

  “And she thought that would happen in a few days?”

  “I think she was hoping it would.” Delany dabbed at her eyes again. “People are saying the most awful things about her, and it’s so unfair. She was such a great person. Maybe she made a mistake, but that shouldn’t define her entire life.”

  Sam tried not to judge other women for the choices they made. God knows, she didn’t want anyone judging her. But this was a tough one. Tara had slept with the most high-profile man in the world, a man who’d been married for forty years to the most beloved woman in the country. As someone who worked in the political field, she had to know what she was in for if the affair ever became public. And how had it become public? That was something else she needed to figure out.

  “I’m going to need her schedule for the last couple of days—let’s make it the last week.”

  Delany nodded, picked up her iPad from the table and began typing. “What’s your email?”

  Sam gave it to her.

  “Sent.”

  That was easier than usual. Often assistants and receptionists made a blood sport out of stonewalling her, but Sam always won those battles. It was nice to get what she needed without having to fight for it. “Thank you. We’re going to arrange to have an officer outside your door until we make an arrest.”

  She stared at Sam, seeming stricken by the thought of cops underfoot. “Why?”

  “Because whoever killed Tara will know that you’re cooperating with us. We’d like to keep you alive. I assume you’d prefer that as well.”

  “Y-yes, but I have a life and...”

  “Ms. Russo, this is a Homicide investigation. I want justice for Tara Weber, and I’d like to think you want that too.”

  “I do! Of course I do. How anyone could hurt her...” She broke down into sobs again. “She didn’t deserve this.”

  “No one deserves to be murdered.”

  “Especially Tara. She was so good to all the people in her life. I can give you five other stories of people like me who she ‘elevated,’ as she put it. She liked to say she could spot a winner, and she liked to give people a chance to shine. I loved that about her.” She gave Sam a hesitant look. “You don’t think the president had anything to do with this, do you?”

  Sam’s stomach ached at the thought of that possibility. “I really hope not.”

  * * *

  SAM CALLED IN the rest of the squad, and they knocked on every door in the building hoping to find someone who had heard a disturbance in Tara’s unit, but their canvass turned up nothing useful.

  “What’s next?” Freddie asked when they were outside in the cold again.

  Sam zipped up her parka and pulled on gloves. Winter was coming in fast and furious, along with shorter days and long, dark nights. “I want to see the parents.”

  “Have they been notified?”

  “Yes, Herndon police took care of that, thank goodness.”

  “No kidding. I hate having to do that.”

  “You and me both.”

  The rest of the squad joined them on the sidewalk.

  “What can we do?” Detective Green asked.

  “I’m going to forward Tara’s schedule for the last week to you. Get with Carlucci and Dominguez,” she said of her third-shift detecti
ves. “Have them arrange protection for Delany Russo and put together a list of people we need to talk to. Have them work with IT to see what the security film yielded. When Crime Scene gets here, tell them we’re looking for her cell phone.”

  “I’ll wait for Crime Scene,” Detective Green said.

  “Thanks. We’ll regroup in the a.m. Good work today, everyone.”

  The others said their goodbyes and headed for their cars while Sam and Freddie got into hers, this time with her at the wheel. “I need to check in with Nick.”

  “Same with Elin. Lucky me that I get to work late.”

  “I can reassign you if being my partner is too arduous for you.”

  “No need, Lieutenant. You know I’m delighted to work with you.”

  She snorted out a laugh at his predictable reply. He was nothing if not entertaining.

  They sent texts to their spouses and then hit the road, battling westbound rush hour traffic leaving the District on Route 66.

  “Had to be freaking Herndon,” she muttered. “Way the fuck out there.”

  “I know, and this traffic is hideous.”

  “How do people do this every day?”

  “No idea. I couldn’t stand it.”

  “How many years of their lives do they lose to commuting, do you suppose?”

  “I’m sure someone has done the math.” He tinkered with the radio and put on WTOP to get traffic updates.

  Sam would’ve preferred to blast Bon Jovi, but she could do that on the way back. Her phone chimed with a text. She handed it to Freddie. “Read that to me?”

  “I’m scared to look. If it’s a sext from your husband, I quit.”

  Sam laughed. “Just read it!”

  “Oh thank God. It’s from Celia.” He read aloud.

  “Sam, how does this sound? On behalf of the entire Holland family, I wish to express my thanks to Chief Joe Farnsworth and the distinguished members of the Metropolitan Police Department for their friendship and loyalty to my late husband, Deputy Chief Skip Holland, and for the beautiful send-off they recently gave him. There is no way Skip would’ve survived the aftermath of the shooting that left him a quadriplegic without the friendship and support of Joe Farnsworth. It breaks my heart to see the press savaging Joe, who stood resolutely by my husband for the four long years that followed his devastating injury. While we’re saddened by the involvement of a man we considered a close friend, we’re heartened by the love we’ve received from Joe, as well as the men and women of the MPD who serve our city every day with distinction and honor. I ask that the media and other concerned citizens keep their focus on the men responsible for this heinous act as they are brought to justice. Sincerely, Celia Holland.”

  Sam blinked back a flood of tears. “It’s perfect. Will you respond and tell her that and then forward it to Malone to be released?”

  “Yep.”

  The gruff tone of his voice as he said the single word told her he was equally affected by Celia’s heartfelt words.

  Sam cleared her throat and forced herself to refocus on the job at hand. “What’s your thought on Weber?”

  “Don’t really have one yet, but from Delany’s description of her, she seems like a top-notch kind of person.”

  “I thought so too. I like the way she met Delany, saw something in her and offered her an opportunity—and that it wasn’t a one-off. She did it for others too.”

  “It’s too bad that the sum of her story is going to be her affair with the president though.”

  “Not if I have anything to say about it.” Sam would make sure that the rest of Tara’s story got as much airtime as the salacious stuff. “Tell me this... It’s not a coincidence, is it, that the story about her and Nelson hits and two days later she’s dead?”

  “I was thinking the same thing. It has to be connected somehow.”

  Sam released a deep sigh. “I was afraid you were going to say that.” Her phone rang and she took the call from Nick on the Bluetooth. “Hey, I’m driving so you get me and Freddie.”

  “Hi, Freddie.”

  “Hi there.”

  “What’s the latest?”

  “We’re on our way to Herndon to see Tara Weber’s parents. They’ve got her son with them.”

  “Oh good. I’m glad he was located.”

  “Yeah, we got lucky. Her assistant was the one who found her and had the four-one-one on where the kid was, her schedule for the last week and other info that would’ve taken us days to get without her.”

  “That’s something anyway. Did she know about the affair with Nelson?”

  “She says no, but I find that hard to believe. She traveled some with the campaign and knew everything else that Weber was doing. How did she not know that? I also want to know if his Secret Service detail knew what was going on. They had to know.”

  “Even if they did, it’s not their job to interfere with the president’s personal life.”

  “Maybe not, but how does something like that stay secret in the midst of a campaign in which people are always around and watching everything?”

  “I can’t imagine something like that staying secret in the fishbowl of a national campaign.”

  “Hopefully, the parents can give us some insight into who knew what and when.”

  “God, I hope so.” He sounded far more stressed than usual. “The White House is on fire over this. Brandon Halliwell has called me three times since the news broke about Tara being murdered.”

  That news spiked Sam’s anxiety. “What does he want?”

  “Mostly he’s making sure I haven’t skipped town.”

  “Are you thinking about doing that? Skipping town?”

  “Not without you and the kids.”

  “This might be the perfect time for a family trip to Bora Bora. We always said we wanted to take Scotty there someday. If they can’t find us...”

  Nick’s low chuckle echoed through the car. “They’d find us. We’d have to take the Secret Service with us and they’d snitch.”

  “They totally would,” she said, sighing.

  “The best thing you can do for all of us right now is to quickly figure out who killed Tara, preferably someone who has no connection whatsoever to Nelson.”

  “Is that all you need from me?”

  “Well, that’s all I can say in front of young Freddie.” His sexy, suggestive tone would’ve made her swoon had she not been driving in bumper-to-bumper traffic.

  “Thank you, Jesus,” Freddie muttered, making them both laugh.

  Sam was always grateful for the two of them and the levity they brought to her life, but never more so than at times like this, when her stress level would be in the radioactive zone without them around to keep it real.

  “Let me know when you’re on the way home,” Nick said. “I’ll make sure there’s food waiting.”

  “Will you be home soon? Someone needs to relieve Shelby.” Their assistant would be eager to get her baby son, Noah, home to bed, but was always willing to stay if need be. She kept a portable crib in their laundry room for emergencies.

  “I’m on the way now.”

  “Okay, thanks. See you soon.”

  “Love you. Bye, Freddie.”

  “See ya,” Freddie said.

  “Love you too,” Sam said.

  When the connection ended, the radio blared back to life with news of an accident on Route 66 in Falls Church.

  Sam groaned. “Shit, fuck, damn, hell.”

  “Tell me how you really feel, Lieutenant,” he said dryly.

  “I just did! Why can’t people fucking learn to drive?”

  “Is that a rhetorical question or one that requires an answer?”

  She glared at him.

  “What?”

  “Rhetorical,” she growled. They battled traffic for more than an h
our before taking the exit to Herndon and following GPS directions to the address Delany had given them. The road to the subdivision where Weber’s parents lived was lined with satellite trucks. “We’ve got ourselves a full-on media campout,” Sam said.

  “Looks that way.”

  “Never takes long for the jackals to arrive on the scent of a hot story.”

  They were stopped by local police. “Sorry, road’s closed,” the officer said. “Detour that way.”

  Sam showed him her badge. “Lieutenant Holland, Metro PD. I need to get through as part of a Homicide investigation.”

  “No one is getting through.”

  Young, cocky, stupid. Sam had his number in two seconds.

  “Did you hear me say I’m working a Homicide investigation?”

  “I heard you, and I don’t care who you are or what you’re doing, you’re not getting in here.”

  “Wow, so much for professional courtesy.”

  “Move along.”

  Sam put the car in Park and reached for her cell phone, putting through a call to Captain Malone. “We’re running into an issue with Herndon police. An Officer Chavez is telling me I can’t get in to see my victim’s parents. Anything you can do?”

  “Yep. Hang on.” The line went dead, and she knew he’d be calling his counterparts in the Herndon Police Department.

  “You can’t just park here,” Chavez said.

  “Oh, sorry, am I hanging things up? You should probably call a tow because I’m not going anywhere until I speak to the people I came to see.”

  “You’re exactly what people say you are,” he said, snarling.

  “Listen up, Detective Cruz. You won’t want to miss hearing what people say I am.”

  “I’m rapt with fascination,” Freddie said.

  “Well?” Sam said, looking up at Chavez. “I’m waiting.”

  His ferocious scowl did nothing to intimidate her. He was about to say something when his radio crackled to life with orders from his superior officer to allow Sam through the roadblock.

  All she heard was “let them through.” She grinned widely at Chavez, whose scowl became even more fierce.