Fatal Accusation Read online

  Freddie winced. “Better you than me.”

  “Actually, better anyone than me. You know they’re going to make it all about Nick being VP and in the hot seat if Nelson is forced to resign.”

  “Yep. Good luck.”

  “Go talk to Archie while I’m gone to see if he’s gotten anywhere on the video and check with Crime Scene to see if they have anything for us or any leads on her cell phone.”

  “I’m on it.”

  Sam proceeded to the lobby area where the chief and Malone were conferring. She approached them while taking a close look at the chief. His expression gave nothing away, but that didn’t surprise her. He played his cards close to the vest most of the time. Yesterday was a definite exception to his normal routine. “How’s it going?” she asked him.

  “Just another day in paradise.”

  “No fresh hells?”

  “Not yet, but the day is new. Give it time to turn to shit.”

  She smiled, happy to hear him joking. “You coming out with me?”

  “Yep.”

  “You don’t have to if it would be better not to.”

  “I’m not going to turn you over to them without backup.”

  “I could do it,” Malone said.

  “Thank you both, but I’m the one who needs to do it. Celia’s statement helped a lot. That was a good call, Lieutenant.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  “The firestorm hasn’t exactly passed, but it’s definitely better than it was this time yesterday. Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.” Sam’s stomach twisted with nerves. She hated these briefings on a good day. This was most definitely not a good day. In addition to the usual challenges of dealing with the always-voracious media, today they would make it personal for her, Nick and the chief.

  They pushed through the double doors to where the reporters camped out waiting for updates. There were easily triple the usual number of people gathered. She even recognized a few faces from the networks, which was unusual, and they had her anxiety spiking even more.

  Before she could say a word, they started shouting questions. Sam didn’t see Darren in the crowd. She hoped that meant he was getting her the info she’d requested.

  “Did Nelson kill his mistress?”

  “Are you going to arrest him?”

  “Is your husband ready to be president?”

  Sam waited for them to shut up before she began speaking. “Shortly before three p.m. yesterday, Tara Weber’s assistant found her dead in her Georgetown home from manual strangulation. Her newborn son was not in the home at the time of the murder. He was with her parents in Herndon and has been accounted for. We’re working a number of leads and asking the public to reach out to our tip line with any information you may have about the murder of Tara Weber.” Sam recited the number twice, hoping it would yield some leads. “I understand the high level of interest in this case and the obvious reasons for it, but I would caution you and the public not to jump to conclusions. As always, we will fully investigate the case and follow the leads wherever they take us.”

  “If they take you to the White House, will you arrest the president?”

  “That’s all I have at this time. We’ll provide another briefing as new information becomes available.”

  “Chief, are you going to resign?”

  Sam and the chief turned their backs on the reporters and went inside. She breathed a sigh of relief when the doors closed behind them, silencing the barrage of questions. “That went well, all things considered.”

  “You did good.”

  “I’ll never understand why they think I’m suddenly going to start giving them info they should be getting from the White House. They need to abandon all hope when it comes to that line of questioning. It ain’t gonna happen.” She took a closer look at him, saw the signs of sleepless nights in the dark circles under his eyes. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “I’ve been better, but I’m hanging in there. I’ve decided that if the city council wants my job, they’re going to have to come for me. I’m not going to roll over and cede to pressure to resign. I don’t want it to end that way.”

  “Good for you. I was hoping you’d find your fighting spirit.”

  “It’s been tough without your dad to kick my ass. He had a way of doing that even when he couldn’t move.”

  “I know what you mean. He got a lot done with that eyebrow.”

  “Yeah.” Joe offered a small, sad smile. “He sure did. I miss the hell out of him. I actually started to go see him yesterday and was halfway there when I remembered...”

  “I have to remind myself every day that he’s gone. I suppose we’ll have to do that for a while.”

  “Probably. Are you holding up okay?”

  Sam didn’t have time to chat, but she gave him time she didn’t have because she wanted to be there for him the way he always was for her. “As well as can be expected. I’m very well supported. That helps.”

  “It’s just going to take time to process and learn to navigate the new normal. I remember going through that after losing my parents.”

  “I feel like there ought to be a law that parents should have to stick around for as long as they’re needed.”

  “Parents and pets.”

  “Ugh, speaking of... Scotty wants a dog.”

  “Of course he does. All kids do. And they all swear they’ll take care of it. Remember when your dad brought that mangy stray home for you girls? What was his name?”

  “Ranger.”

  “Right! He was a hot mess, and you girls promised you’d take such good care of him. Which lasted how long?”

  “Not even a week. My mom was not happy that she ended up taking care of him. He was faithfully devoted to her because she was the one who fed him.”

  “Is Scotty swearing he’ll take care of it?”

  “He is. I think maybe in his case he actually would since he knows what it’s like to not be well cared for.”

  “True. He may be up to the task.”

  “We can barely handle three kids—and we have a ton of help. I can’t believe I’m even thinking about adding another mouth to feed.”

  “You may be surprised by the joy a dog can bring to your lives. Don’t rule it out.”

  “Hmmm, if you say so. Well, I’d better get to it. The clock is ticking on this one. If I don’t close this case soon, I may find myself living at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.” She added a grimace so he’d know exactly how she really felt about that possibility.

  “I didn’t want to ask how you guys are holding up...”

  “It’s stressful. Nick’s insomnia is awful. Who could’ve seen all this shit coming when he agreed to be Nelson’s VP? Not us, that’s for sure.”

  “No kidding. He was the most boring president we’ve had in a long time, and I mean that as a compliment. No scandals or anything overly interesting. I actually used to like him.”

  “I think a lot of people would say that. He was reelected convincingly. And now...”

  “I can’t believe he cheated on his wife when she was sick. That’s so unbelievable.”

  “It really is.”

  “We aren’t liking him for the Weber murder, are we?”

  “God, I hope not.”

  “Keep me in that loop, will you?”

  “You got it.”

  They parted company, and she returned to the pit just as Freddie was coming in from the other corridor. “Anything?”

  “Archie and company are working their way through footage from the area, as well as trying to figure out how the security film got wiped, and Crime Scene is still trying to track down Tara’s phone.”

  “So in other words, they’ve got dick.”

  “What you said.”

  “This case is pissing me off.”

 
; “Most of them do.”

  FBI Special Agent in Charge Avery Hill came into the pit. “Good morning.”

  “Agent Hill,” Sam said, immediately on guard. “To what do we owe the honor?” The man was sinfully handsome, with golden-brown hair that he wore combed straight back, matching golden-brown eyes and prominent cheekbones. He was blissfully in love with and engaged to Shelby Faircloth, which was a huge relief from the days when he’d crushed on Sam.

  “I stopped by to see if I can offer any assistance on the Weber investigation.”

  “Is it possible that you really just want to know if the president is implicated?”

  “Is he?”

  “We have no info on that.” Sam almost said “yet,” but caught herself. She didn’t want to imply that they suspected him when they didn’t have any reason to. At the moment. This case was fraught, no matter how she looked at it.

  “Is there anything we can do to help?”

  “Check in with Lieutenant Archelotta about the fact that the building’s security tape was wiped. We also can’t find the victim’s cell phone. He might welcome your assistance.”

  “I’ll see if we can help.”

  “Thank you. Detective Cruz, let’s hit it.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THEY LEFT HQ in Sam’s car for the drive to the 18th Street headquarters of the World Bank. “I should know this, but what do they do there?”

  Freddie got busy on his phone. “Reading from their website, ‘The World Bank Group is one of the world’s largest sources of funding and knowledge for developing countries. Its five institutions share a commitment to reducing poverty, increasing shared prosperity and promoting sustainable development.’”

  “Huh, well, that sounds like a noble cause.”

  “Indeed.”

  “It’s funny, isn’t it, that we hear about things all our lives but never have any real idea what they’re about.”

  “I read this article recently about how much most people will never know and how the things we do know are a microcosmic sample of all things we could possibly know.”

  “That’s interesting. For example, I will never be a brain surgeon.”

  “And for that, everyone with a brain is thankful.”

  Sam laughed. “Yes, they are. I’ll never understand engineering, most things about science and math. Ugh, math is my nemesis.”

  “We’ll never know any language other than our own and some Spanish in my case, how manned space travel works or anything useful about engines.”

  “I can’t build anything, draw anything and I can’t read music to save my life. I tried when I was in sixth grade and played the flute.”

  “You played the flute?”

  “Briefly. Add that to the list of things I’ll never be able to do.”

  “I played the trumpet—badly—for a year. This exercise is actually rather demoralizing.”

  Sam snorted. “Because we’ve basically discovered that at the end of the day, we’re a couple of dumb shits.”

  “Speak for yourself. I’m known for being quite brilliant.”

  “Sure you are.”

  “We’re quite brilliant at what we do, a job most people couldn’t do if they tried.”

  She nodded. “True.”

  “The article talked about how everyone brings something unique to the table and each of those special skills form the fabric that brings us together as a society. What I can’t do, that guy over there can, and so on. Society works because we all have different talents.”

  “This is a very deep conversation to have before lunch.”

  “It all started because you asked what they do at the World Bank.”

  “I guess we should expect some bureaucracy and roadblocks in a place like that.”

  “Probably.”

  The thought of obstacles exhausted her. She deeply resented the inevitable bullshit that got in the way of investigating homicides. Shouldn’t murder victims take precedence over just about anything? One would think so. One would be wrong.

  “I heard Conklin wants to talk to you again,” Freddie said after a long silence.

  “Yeah.”

  “You want me to take that for you? No need for you to have to be in a room with him if it’s too much for you.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “Sam—”

  “I said it’s fine. I refuse to give him any more power over my life than he’s already had. He’s just another scumbag to me now.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  “I am. Let’s get this done.”

  They parked in the visitor lot and walked to the main doors, where they were immediately confronted with robust security.

  Even though the guard recognized Sam, he put them through the paces anyway, which is exactly what he should’ve done. She didn’t have a beef with that kind of roadblock. Security was a necessary evil in today’s world, so she followed directions, surrendered her firearm—albeit reluctantly—walked through the metal detector and signed in to receive a visitor’s badge.

  Fifteen minutes later they were in an elevator being escorted to Massey’s office by a young woman named Isabel, who’d been introduced to them as an intern.

  She cast side-eyed glances at Sam the whole time they were in the slow-moving elevator.

  “Something on your mind, Isabel?”

  The young woman’s face turned bright red. “I’m so sorry. I’m just in awe of you, and it’s such an honor to meet you. I’m studying criminal justice at the University of Virginia. I want to be you when I grow up.”

  Freddie choked on a laugh and then coughed, trying to mask his laughter.

  “That’s very nice of you. Thank you.”

  Isabel escorted them to the legal department and gestured toward the receptionist who stood between them and the man they’d come to see. Sam’s disdain for flying and needles was topped only by her dislike of receptionists, who often tried to stop her from doing her job. That never went well. For them.

  “Thank you.” She handed Isabel her card. “Get in touch if I can do anything to help you.”

  Isabel took her card and held it as reverently as a newborn baby. “Seriously?”

  “Sure. I remember what it was like to be just starting out. Everyone needs a mentor. Text me so I have your number, and I’ll get in touch when things calm down.”

  Isabel’s eyes sparkled with the starting of tears. “This means so much to me. Thank you so much.”

  “No problem.”

  After the young woman had walked away, Freddie glanced at Sam. “You never cease to amaze me.”

  “My goal in life.”

  “That was nice.”

  “I’m actually a nice person.” Her phone chimed with a message from Isabel, gushing about her excitement to have met Sam. She held it up for Freddie to see, grinning.

  He rolled his lips in, as if wisely trying to hold back whatever he was dying to say.

  Sam approached the receptionist, a young woman identified as Ashley by the nameplate on the desk. She flashed her badge. “I’m Lieutenant Holland, DC Metro Police. This is my partner, Detective Cruz. We’re here to see Mr. Massey.”

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  That was one of Sam’s favorite receptionist questions. “Nope.”

  “I’m afraid he’s in meetings and can’t be disturbed.”

  Sam took a seat on the corner of Ashley’s desk. “You know what I love about that answer?”

  Ashley’s gaze darted to Freddie, as if he might save her. He wouldn’t. “Um, no?”

  “It totally discounts the fact that someone has to be dead for me to show up here wanting to talk to your colleague. Do you understand that someone is dead? Someone has been murdered, and my job is to figure out who did it?”

  Ashley swallowed hard.
“I, um, let me check to see if he can make himself available.”

  “You do that.”

  She got up and scurried away.

  “Magnanimous and scary all in the same two-minute period.” Freddie shook his head. “I stand in awe of your never-ending range.”

  Sam was endlessly amused by him, not that he could ever know that. “I may be seen as a one-trick pony, but I’m a pony of many facets.”

  “Indeed you are, Lieutenant.”

  “Props on your use of magnanimous. That’s a big word for a young grasshopper like you.”

  “Aw, gee. Thanks, Mom.”

  Ashley returned a few minutes later, noticeably paler than she’d been before Sam arrived to make her day.

  “H-he’ll see you in his office in five minutes.”

  “Tell him to make it two minutes. We’re busy people.”

  “O-okay.” She took off again.

  Still perched on the corner of Ashley’s desk, Sam folded her arms and got comfortable for the two minutes she was giving these people to get their shit together. “Sometimes this job is just fun.”

  “Most of the time it sucks donkey balls.”

  “That’s my line, and it’s trademarked. You’re not allowed to use my stuff without permission.”

  “So sue me.”

  “I may do that.”

  As long as they had their ability to spar and joke, they were able to get through the worst days on the job.

  Some might find it disrespectful. Those people could kiss her ass. Until they’d walked a mile in her shoes or Freddie’s or any of the people who hunted murderers for a living, they would never know how incredibly difficult and heartbreaking it could be.

  “I wish I could go to Patrick Connolly’s funeral.”

  Freddie seemed surprised to hear that. “How come?”

  “I’m not sure exactly. Something about Roni has really stayed with me.”

  “It’s such an awful thing, but are you sure it’s in your best interest to take that on when you’re in the midst of your own awful thing?”

  Sam shrugged. “I wish I could be there to support her.” She glanced at the clock on the far wall. “I think their two minutes are up.” She started walking in the direction Ashley had gone, scanning the nameplates outside each office until she found Massey’s.