Fatal Frenzy: Book 9 of the Fatal Series Page 20

  “I will, babe.”

  She tipped her head up so she could kiss him. As her lips connected with his, she slid her leg between his, bringing her thigh in tight against his groin.

  He groaned against her lips and she felt his erection press into her belly. “What’re you doing?” he asked, sounding breathless from the kiss.

  “Kissing my husband goodnight. Is that allowed?”

  “Most definitely, but this feels like hello rather than goodnight.”

  “What if it is?”

  “I didn’t think you’d be interested tonight.”

  “I’m always interested, and tonight,” she said with a sigh. “Tonight, I just need you. I don’t need bells or whistles or any of your usual finesse. I just need you.”

  “You have me. You always have me.” He kissed her with soft, sweet persuasion, giving her the tenderness she craved, along with the love and comfort she needed and could only get from him. The clothing he had lovingly dressed her in was removed with equal reverence. His hands moved over her body with gentle strokes that had her arching into him, asking without words for the connection she needed so badly.

  “Samantha,” he said on a whisper, his lips close to her ear, his breath sending a shiver of need through her. “I love you so much. So very, very much.”

  Tears spilled from her eyes, and he kissed them away as he joined his body with hers, making slow, sweet love to her as she sobbed for her lost friend and colleague, for a life ended far too soon, for the family and friends who would miss him and mourn him. All the while she clung to her husband as he moved within her, reminding her that life goes on, even in the most difficult of times.

  “Shhh, I’m here. I’ve got you.”

  She was safe with him, safe to let go of the despair that had gripped her since she first heard the awful news, safe to mourn and grieve. His love gave her a soft place to land in the midst of the madness that often surrounded her.

  Buried deep within her body, he gathered her in close and held her tightly to him. They stayed like that for endless moments, intimately joined, his love flowing through her and giving her the strength to go on, to move forward and to do what needed to be done while her heart broke into a million pieces once again.

  Even in the grip of despair, her body responded to him, taking and sharing the sweet relief they found together, the heat of his release filling and sustaining her. For a long time afterward, he continued to hold her until her sobs quieted and the tears dried on her face.

  “I could never face this life I lead without you to come home to,” she whispered.

  “You’ll always have me to come home to. You are my home, and I’m yours.”

  “It says so in our rings.”

  “Yes,” he said with a small chuckle, “it certainly does.” That they’d engraved the same thing inside their wedding rings without knowing had provided one of the more memorable moments of their wedding day. He withdrew from her, leaving her with a kiss when he went into the bathroom to clean up.

  Nick returned with a warm washcloth that he used to wipe the remaining tears from her face.

  Sam closed her eyes and gave herself over to his care. The next thing she knew, her alarm was going off, jarring her from a deep sleep, the heat of Nick’s body curled up to hers making her want to wallow in bed for as long as she possibly could.

  And then she remembered. Arnold was dead. A known human trafficker had killed him. She was due at work in an hour to work the case. The ache in the area of her heart hadn’t lessened overnight, but her resolve had strengthened. Under no circumstances would the death of Detective Arnold go unpunished. The fire for vengeance once again burned hot and bright within her, powering her out of bed and into the shower. It stayed with her as she got dressed, when she kissed her sleeping husband goodbye while whispering words of thanks that he would never hear but would carry her forward until she could be with him again.

  Downing an apple and bottle of water as she drove her new car to HQ, she realized yesterday had merely been a dress rehearsal for today. Today, she was truly back. Today, she would focus on what most needed to be done. Today, she would put her own grief aside to tend to the people who would be looking to her for leadership and guidance as they navigated these turbulent waters together. She would be what they needed, and then she would go home and take what she needed from the man she loved, who would prop her up through it all.

  Today, she parked outside the main doors and approached the gathering of media with intent rather than her usual avoidance.

  They began shouting the moment they saw her.

  “Lieutenant!”

  “Can we get a statement?”

  “Are there any updates?”

  “Have you seen the Arnold family?”

  She stepped before them and waited for them to quiet down before she began to speak. “As I mentioned yesterday, we are heartbroken over the loss of our colleague and friend. Detective Arnold was a distinguished member of the Metropolitan Police Department for the last seven years. His rapid rise from Patrolman to Detective was a testament to his commitment to the job and the department. We were proud of Detective Arnold and had great hopes for his future within the department. I’ve been to see his parents, who are suffering as you’d expect but are strong in their resolve to see justice done on behalf of their son. As are we. The U.S. Marshal Service is leading in the hunt for the man who shot Detective Arnold, and the FBI is coordinating the criminal case against a suspect who has been positively identified. I will defer future commentary about the criminal case to my colleagues within the FBI.”

  “Will you be attending your husband’s inauguration tomorrow?”

  “Yes, I will. While I owe my allegiance to my brothers and sisters within this department in these difficult days to come, I also owe an allegiance to my husband. As such, I will be dividing my time between my obligations over the next few days. But let there be no doubt that finding the person who killed my colleague and friend will be my top priority.”

  “Are you concerned about what people will say about you attending the inauguration while your colleagues are grieving?”

  “That’s a fair question and one I’ve considered myself. I apologize in advance to anyone who feels that I shouldn’t be on that dais tomorrow. But I will be where I am supposed to be, and then I will return to my duties here. In the years to come while my husband serves our country, I will often find myself divided between what I should do and what I must do. I will always endeavor to do my very best for my team here and my family at home. That’s all any of us can do, right? Our very best. I hope you’ll understand that I need to get to work. Thanks, everyone.”

  She’d said more than she’d intended to. She’d made the most public statement yet about how she planned to juggle her competing roles. But there was no time like the present, when her loyalties were deeply divided by demands at home and at work, to lay out how she planned to navigate these next four years. She would do her best and let the lumps fall where they may. People would take verbal potshots at her. Those who felt she wasn’t a very good cop or those who thought their country deserved a more dedicated second lady.

  Let them say what they would. She would continue to do her best and hope it was enough for those who mattered most to her.

  Inside the main doors to HQ, Farnsworth and Cruz waited for her.

  “That was unexpected, Lieutenant,” Farnsworth said.

  “For me too, sir, but I suppose it was time to address the elephant in the room.”

  “I suppose so.” He took a measuring look at her. “You’re feeling well?”

  “I am. I’m ready to get back to work and to help in any way I can to find Androzzi.”

  “Everyone is gathering in the conference room in fifteen minutes to regroup,” Farnsworth said. “I’ll be there shortly.”
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br />   “Thank you, sir.”

  Sam walked with Freddie to the pit.

  “That was quite something out there, Sam,” he said. “I think you left them speechless.”

  “Good. That’s how I like them.”

  “You’re doing okay?”

  “I’m better than I was. You?”

  “I’m sick at heart over what happened to Arnold, but determined to help get the guy who did it.”

  “Have you spoken to Gonzo?”

  “Not since yesterday. I assume he’ll be here soon.”

  “He’s taking this harder than anyone.”

  “We’ll be here for him like we always are.” He hesitated before he said, “So I have something I want to tell you, and the timing is all wrong, but I thought maybe some happy news might be welcome.”

  She ushered him into her office and closed the door. “It’s very welcome.”

  “While we were away, I asked Elin to marry me and she said yes.”

  Sam hugged him. “Of course she said yes. She knows she’s the luckiest girl in the world to be loved by you. I’m so happy for you.”

  “Thanks, Sam. Means a lot coming from you.”

  “We’ve got a son of a bitch to find. Let’s get busy doing that, shall we?”

  Freddie nodded. “Let’s do it.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Special Agent-in-Charge Avery Hill stood before the gathered law enforcement officers in the conference room and spelled out the FBI’s case against Sid Androzzi. In addition to Sam’s entire squad, Captain Malone, Chief Farnsworth, Deputy Chief Conklin and Jesse Best from the U.S. Marshal Service were in attendance.

  “Androzzi first entered our radar after a raid in New York City in which twenty-five missing women were located in a warehouse in Chelsea where they’d been held captive, sexually abused and starved. Posing as potential buyers, our agents were able to penetrate Androzzi’s network and were led to the warehouse where seven members of Androzzi’s organization were apprehended. Androzzi himself was nowhere near the warehouse that day.”

  As he spoke, Hill posted disturbing photos of the emaciated victims discovered in the two warehouses. “Our next encounter with his organization occurred in Los Angeles, where we were again able to gain access to his network. This time, the warehouse was located in Redondo Beach where forty-two women and children were enslaved. We believe we found them days before they were going to be shipped overseas to destinations unknown. Once again, Androzzi wasn’t there the day of the raid. Twice burned, Androzzi tightened the ranks. Since the raid in Los Angeles fifteen months ago, we’ve had no luck getting close to the organization again. Until yesterday when his prints were found all over the townhouse of the home registered to Giuseppe Besozzi.

  “Under the Besozzi name, Androzzi contracted with the local graphic design firm Griffen and Smoltz to build a website that we now believe was going to be used for his trafficking business. Designer William Enright, who was one of the victims that survived the knife attacks, provided information to investigators about how Besozzi’s requests for chat rooms and webcams for the site he was building for his retail T-shirt business led him to report the unusual requests to his superiors at the firm. We now believe that Androzzi attacked Enright hoping to silence him. We believe the other victims were randomly selected to incite hysteria in the city and confuse law enforcement about the true motive behind the attacks. Our lab is currently re-examining the clothing worn by all the victims, testing it against the DNA sample for Androzzi on file. I’ll turn things over to Marshal Best who will update you on the manhunt.”

  Jesse Best moved to the front of the room. “Now that we have Androzzi’s real name as well as the assumed name he’d been using here, we’ve been able to subpoena cell records for phones in both names. We’re also actively tracking GPS coordinates for both phones, but there has been no activity on either phone since Detective Arnold’s shooting. That leads us to believe there is a third phone, so we are aggressively looking into that possibility. In addition, we have isolated all means of egress out of the city as well as the region. Our colleagues in New York and Los Angeles are on alert for the possibility of Androzzi’s return to more familiar ground. We’ve also got alerts out to every major airport that leads out of the country, and his passport has been flagged as well.”

  “Is it possible that he has passports issued in other names?” Malone asked.

  “We’re exploring that possibility,” Best said. “There was a passport issued in Besozzi’s name that we have also flagged. His photo has been issued to the TSA, U.S. Customs and airport security in every major point of exit.”

  “On a local level, I’d like to take a closer look at missing women and children in this city over the last year or two in light of this new information that Androzzi has been living among us,” Sam said.

  “That would be helpful,” Hill said.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gonzo slip into the room and head for the back.

  “Sergeant Gonzales,” Hill said, “if I could have a word after the meeting, I’d appreciate it.”

  Gonzo nodded in acknowledgement.

  He looked like hell, and Sam’s heart went out to him. In order to know what he was dealing with, she’d have to imagine what it would be like to have Freddie gunned down in front of her while she was powerless to do anything to save him or catch the man who’d killed him.

  The very thought made her shudder with horror as bile rose from her stomach to burn her throat.

  “What else can we be doing?” Cruz asked. “There has to be something.”

  “I like the lieutenant’s idea of looking harder at recent missing persons cases locally,” Hill said. “Expand into Maryland and Virginia. Androzzi’s organization was only interested in young women and children, so a compilation of names of missing persons who meet that criteria would be helpful.”

  “We’ll get on that,” Cruz said.

  “That’s all we have for now,” Hill said. “We’ll keep you posted on any developments that transpire during the day.”

  “Is it possible that we’ll never find this guy?” Gonzo asked from the back of the room, his voice devoid of inflection.

  “I don’t have to tell you that’s always a possibility,” Best said. “All I can say is we’re doing everything humanly possible to track him and if he’s still in the country, I believe we’ll find him, but it might not happen quickly.”

  Farnsworth moved to the front of the room and shook hands with Hill and Best. “Thank you both for all you’re doing to find the man who killed Detective Arnold. We are here to support you in any way that we can.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Hill said as he and Best left the room.

  Farnsworth stood before them, his warm gray eyes taking in the assembled group of detectives. “You’ve suffered an unimaginable loss. Detective Arnold was more than your colleague. He was also your friend. His death brings home the very real risks we take every day when we choose to put on the badge and go to work on behalf of the people of this great city. Wearing that badge is a choice all of us made willingly. It’s one we will have to make again now that Detective Arnold has been taken from us so suddenly. If you are looking to make sense of what’s happened, don’t bother. Take it from those of us who have been through this before. It will never make sense. It will never make sense. Sam’s dad and I were Patrol officers when our friend Steven Coyne was killed in a drive-by shooting that has never been solved. We were young and cocky and arrogant and so incredibly invincible until that day. I can’t speak for Skip or any of the others who were on the force at that time, but I can tell you I was never any of those things again. I was no longer young, except in age. I was never again cocky or arrogant or certain of my invincibility. I had been shown, in the most painful way possible, that we are all as human as the next person. I�
�d been shown that wearing a badge and a gun didn’t protect me the way I thought it did. No, if anything it made me that much more vulnerable than the next person. I’ve never forgotten the lessons learned that week, just as none of you will forget what you will learn as we investigate Detective Arnold’s death, as we bring his killer to justice and as we lay him to rest.

  “These events, these days will stay with you always. They will frame who you are as people and as police officers. If you need help, I urge you to ask for it. Reach out to your fellow officers, to the counselors we’ve made available to you. Asking for help is no sign of weakness. In fact, in this environment in which people are revered for their swagger, it’s more a sign of strength to know yourself well enough to ask for help. I give you my word that asking for help will never be held against you. Not while I’m in charge.” He paused and took another moment to make eye contact with each detective. “If there’s anything you’d like to say, I hope you’ll take this opportunity to do it.”

  The detectives exchanged glances, nervously looking to each other for guidance.

  “I’d like to say,” Detective Tyrone began haltingly, “that A.J. was not just my coworker. He was my friend. My close friend. We didn’t make a big deal out of the fact that we spent time together outside of work, but we did. We spent time together. If I were getting married tomorrow, he would’ve been my best man. I…” His voice broke and Jeannie put her arm around her partner’s shoulders. “I loved him like a brother.”

  “He was like a little brother to all of us,” Cruz said. “He wasn’t that much younger than me, but there was something almost childlike about him. Not in his work, which was spot-on, but in the way he lived the rest of his life. He loved to laugh and to make light of heavy moments. When I think of him, I’ll remember that big smile and that hint of the devil in him that made us all laugh.”

  “I’ll remember that too,” Jeannie said. “After I was attacked, he used to come by my house every afternoon after work with a container of coffee ice cream with chocolate sprinkles. He knew it was my favorite, so he brought it to me every day. He rang the bell and I’d answer the door. Without a word, he’d hand the bag in to me and then he would leave. I never told him that I had to stop eating the ice cream every day, or I would’ve gained twenty pounds. Michael loved it, though.”