Fatal Reckoning Read online

  Avery took notes as Viera recited the info. “Did you catch his name?”

  “I did, but I don’t recall it off the top of my head. He was an older guy who worked at GAO.”

  “What happened then?”

  “We took over and attempted to stabilize Chief Holland so he could be transported. That took about ten to twelve minutes. After the ambulance left with him, we were clearing the scene and I picked up a brown leather messenger bag that was lying in the street, checked inside, saw Skip Holland’s name and handed it over to then-Captain Conklin to make sure it got back to Skip’s family.”

  “And you’re sure it was Conklin?”

  “Positive. I’d worked with him before, so I knew him.” He glanced from Avery to Forrester and back to Avery. “Are you going to tell me what this is about?”

  “Deputy Chief Conklin has been arrested for lying about the events of that day.”

  Viera’s eyes bugged. “Whoa.”

  “We’re going to need you to make a formal statement to the facts you’ve given us here.”

  “Okay.”

  Avery spent the next two hours recording every detail that Viera could recall, and when they’d nailed down the statement, he asked Viera to sign it.

  The paramedic scrawled his signature across the bottom of the page. “What now?”

  “Go about your business and don’t talk about any of this with anyone. We’ll be in touch.”

  * * *

  SAM’S TEAM, AIDED by Lieutenant Archelotta from IT, never left the conference room for the rest of their shift, sifting through years-old reports, phone records and investigatory notes after an emergency search warrant was obtained to give them access to the contents of the deputy chief’s office.

  Per Malone’s orders, Sam had remained in her own office throughout the afternoon, told to stay away from the goings-on in the conference room. She’d watched as officers arrived at regular intervals with boxes and other items that were delivered to her detectives. Sitting on the sidelines made her crazy, but she understood why she couldn’t be in there, even if she didn’t like it.

  She’d been reviewing reports submitted by her team, including the one about Patrick Connolly’s homicide, the details making her profoundly sad once again for the wife and family the talented young agent had left behind.

  At four o’clock, she turned off her computer, gathered her keys and phone and headed out, encountering Lindsey McNamara coming out of the morgue. “Step into my office.”

  Sam followed her through the automatic doors that led to the frigid morgue.

  “What the hell is going on around here today? Everyone is buzzing about Conklin being arrested.”

  “I’m not allowed to know anything about it.”

  Lindsey gasped. “Because it involves your father’s case?”

  “I can neither confirm nor deny.”

  Lindsey’s expression went flat with shock. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Sam shrugged.

  “Was he the shooter?”

  Sam shrugged again.

  “Holy crap. This is going to be huge.”

  Sam nodded. “I’m on my way out. Talk to you tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, of course. Sam... Are you okay? You have to be reeling—in more ways than one.”

  “I’m okay.” She’d said those words a hundred times in the last few days and would keep saying them for as long as people asked how she was. “I’ll check in tomorrow.”

  “I’m here if I can do anything for you—anything at all.”

  “Appreciate it.”

  As she stepped out into blustery late-afternoon chill, she thought about how blessed she was to have such great friends. Their love and support had been tremendous since her dad passed away, and they’d have her back no matter what happened with Conklin and the investigation.

  Sam got into her car and started to head home but then decided to make a stop on the way. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was doing in front of the building where Patrick Connolly had lived with his wife, Veronica, but something had brought her there. She put the car into Park and shut off the engine. For a long time, she stared at the vestibule, wondering whether she should do this. In the end, compelled by a need she couldn’t exactly explain, she got out of the car and pushed the button next to the name Connolly on the keypad.

  A female voice answered, “Yes?”

  “Lieutenant Sam Holland, from the Metro PD, to see Mrs. Connolly.”

  The sound of commotion came through the intercom before a buzz unlocked the door. Sam went inside and took the stairs to the third floor, where a gray-haired woman stood in the doorway of 3C waiting for Sam, who withdrew her badge more out of habit than necessity.

  “I’m Lieutenant Holland.”

  “Yes, I know who you are. I’m Justine, Roni’s mother. She isn’t really up for guests, but when I told her you had come by, she asked me to let you in.”

  “I won’t stay too long. I just wanted to...” What did she want exactly? The case was closed. She had no actual business here. So what was the point? “I wanted to see how she is.”

  “Not good.” Justine’s grim expression told the story. “Not good at all. Patrick, he was...” Her eyes filled and she crossed her arms, seeming to hug herself. “I’m sorry. It’s just the most awful thing. They were so happy together, and now... I don’t know what’ll become of her. I just don’t know.”

  “I’m so sorry for your terrible loss. I wish there was something I could say.”

  “There’s nothing anyone can say. The sheer senselessness of it is the part I can’t get past.”

  “I know.” Sam took a deep breath. “I’ll only stay for a minute.”

  “Is there something new about the case? We were told the man who shot him was arrested.”

  “That’s correct, and no, there’s nothing new. I just...” Sam had no idea what she was doing there, but something had brought her there. “I was the one who had to tell her the news yesterday, and I just... I wanted to see her. I understand if this isn’t a good time.”

  “Give me one second?”

  “Of course.”

  Justine left the door ajar while she went to consult with her daughter.

  Sam leaned against the wall, feeling like a jerk for disturbing these people at such a difficult time. What the hell was she doing here in the middle of their nightmare? I ought to go. She eyed the stairwell. It’s wrong for me to be here. In all her years as a Homicide detective, she’d never once “stopped by” to visit victims without it pertaining to an ongoing investigation.

  She pushed herself off the wall, intending to leave.

  Justine came to the door. “She’d like to see you.”

  Sam followed her into a bright, stylish apartment where Roni was on the sofa, covered with a blanket, her face red and puffy, her hair ratty around her shoulders and her eyes... Sam could barely stand to look at the eyes that held her devastation. “Hi, Roni.”

  “Hi.”

  Sam sat next to her. “I wanted to stop by to check on you.” On the end table next to Roni, Sam noticed a gorgeous wedding photo of Roni and Patrick, the two of them gazing at each other and wearing huge smiles.

  “I’m still here.” Roni forced a small smile. “Everyone has been so amazing and supportive.”

  “I’m glad you’re being well loved.”

  Absently, Roni spun her diamond engagement ring around her finger. It sat above a diamond wedding band. “I’m just not sure what to do now, you know? Patrick... We had so many plans, and now...” She shrugged helplessly and glanced at Sam. “I don’t know what to do. I write obituaries for a living, but I don’t know where to begin with Patrick’s.”

  Sam’s heart broke for her. “Is there someone who could help you with that?”

  “Lots of people, but I want to do it myself
.”

  “That’s understandable.” Sam tried to find some words of wisdom that would help Roni, but really, what could anyone say that would truly help? “I’m sure it seems impossible today, but you will find a way through this.”

  “I guess so. What choice do I have?”

  “If there’s anything at all I can do for you at any time, please call me.” Sam placed her business card on the coffee table. “My cell number is on there.”

  “It’s very nice of you to come by. You must be so busy, and you just lost your father.”

  “Yes, I did, and while it’s not the same thing, I know what it’s like to wonder how you’re going to survive without someone.”

  Roni’s eyes filled as she nodded.

  “We have something in common, you and me. We’re both victims of violent crime. I’ve been thinking about putting together a group for people like us, those who’ve been left shattered by the sort of thing that happened to Patrick. If it’s all right with you, I’ll let you know what we decide to do. It might be helpful to you.”

  “That would be nice. Thank you.”

  “If there’s anything at all I can do for you, please call.”

  “I will. It was good of you to come by.”

  “Do you mind if I stop by again to check on you?”

  “I wouldn’t mind. It’s nice of you to care.”

  “I’m so sorry again for your loss. From what everyone says, Patrick was a brilliant, well-respected agent.”

  “He was the smartest person I ever knew.”

  Sam, who wasn’t known for being a hugger, leaned in to hug the young woman, who clung to her for a long time. “I’ll be in touch,” she said when they finally released each other, both of them blinking back tears.

  Roni nodded and wiped the tears from her face.

  Justine showed Sam out. “Thank you for coming by.”

  “Please let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

  “We will.”

  Sam went down the stairs and out to her car, taking greedy, deep breaths of the cool air. For a long time after she got into her car, she sat there thinking about Roni and Patrick and the terrible loss of a promising young life. Then she pounded her hand on the steering wheel and screamed with frustration until her hand and throat began to hurt so badly she had no choice but to stop.

  She took a few minutes to pull herself together, pushing the rage back into the back corner, where it had lived for four seemingly endless years. After opening the window, she took several more breaths, trying to settle her ragged emotions before she went home to her family. She’d become accustomed to hiding the rage, to living with it, to carrying it with her everywhere she went. But since her father died, it had been harder to hide the ever-present fury over what’d been taken from him and everyone who loved him.

  Maybe that was why she’d needed to see Roni, so the other woman would know there was someone out there who understood how she felt. Or maybe she’d done it for herself, so she could be with someone who understood how she felt. Whatever the reason, she was glad she’d come, that she’d had the chance to express her condolences and speak to Roni about the support group that would be happening. It was no longer just an idea. Roni’s unspeakable grief had made Sam more determined than ever to do something for people who desperately needed a place to turn when their lives were ruined by violence.

  If she could help to give them even five minutes of comfort, it would be time well spent.

  Fifteen minutes later, the Secret Service waved her through the Ninth Street checkpoint. She parallel parked in her spot, behind one of the black SUVs that ferried Nick and Scotty around. As she got out of the car, she glanced toward her dad’s house, where a single light burned in the living room. A wave of sadness overtook her when she thought about all the years she’d have to live without her dad’s steady presence in her life, without that voice calling her baby girl, without his calming influence to talk her down when the job got the better of her.

  Roni’s grief mingled with her own, making the path forward seem almost insurmountable.

  She had no idea how long she’d been standing there when the front door to her home opened and Nick came down the ramp.

  He put his arm around her. “Heard you were out here.”

  “Every day when I come home I have to remind myself he’s not there anymore.”

  “I know, babe. Me too. It’s still hard to believe.”

  She leaned her head on his shoulder.

  “You want to go see Celia? I’ll go with you.”

  “Right now, I’d like to see you and the kids.”

  “I was just about to feed them. You want to join us?”

  “Yeah, that’d be good.” She’d check on Celia later, after she had some time with Nick and the kids.

  Keeping his arm around her, Nick led her up the ramp, past Brant, who stood watch over him as always, and inside to the warm comfort of home, where she could hear the three kids in the kitchen, laughing and talking. Sometimes it was hard to believe that Aubrey and Alden had only been there a couple of weeks.

  Scotty and the twins were just what she needed after another difficult day.

  After dinner, Scotty decided the twins needed to see Star Wars or their education would be incomplete. Sam agreed to the first half, but not the full movie because they needed to get to bed. She never had been a big fan of Star Wars, but she sat with Nick’s arms around her on the sofa and tried to follow the story even as her mind wandered through the events of the day.

  When her cell phone rang, she disentangled herself from Nick’s embrace and went into the kitchen to take the call from Freddie.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “HEY, WHAT’S UP?”

  “How’re you doing?”

  “I’d be better if I knew what was going on.”

  “Nothing much to report. We’re going through the stuff from his office piece by piece. It’s slow going.”

  “Any smoking guns?”

  “Not yet, but we’re still digging. Apparently, he’s making a huge stink about being arrested and continuing to claim he was never on G Street that day. Archie is sifting through archival footage from then, looking for him.”

  “God, I hope he finds something.”

  “Conklin is saying you’re so desperate to solve your father’s case that you’re grasping at straws.”

  “He can say whatever he wants. The evidence led directly to him.”

  “Exactly. Apparently, he hired Charles Bagley to represent him.”

  Sam groaned at that news. “Only the biggest blowhard in town.”

  “The way I see it, if he’s got nothing to hide, why hire a prominent defense attorney?”

  “A very good question.”

  “People here are saying this could bring down the chief.”

  “How so? It’s not like he knew that his deputy was hiding evidence.”

  “The theory is he won’t survive the scandal, if it turns out to be a scandal.”

  “I can’t worry about that on top of everything else right now. I just wish there was something I could do. I’m losing it playing on the sidelines.”

  “Keep working the tip line. There may be other stuff there that’ll be useful to us.”

  “True. I’ll give that some time tomorrow.”

  “We’re closer to answers than we’ve ever been. Keep reminding yourself of that.”

  “I’m afraid I’m not going to like the answers.”

  “I know. I can’t believe where it’s led so far. We’ll hit it hard again tomorrow, and Dominguez and Carlucci are on it tonight.”

  “Thanks for the update.”

  “No problem. Try to get some sleep.”

  “I will. You too.”

  “See you in the morning.”

  Sam closed her phone and leane
d against the counter, thinking about what they’d discovered so far and where it might lead. Other than the obvious desire to be promoted, what possible reason would Conklin have had for covering up leads in her father’s case? He’d never struck her as someone so ambitious that he’d stoop to attempted murder to get ahead, but how well did she actually know him and what motivated him?

  Not that well actually. While he’d always been a close friend of her father’s, Sam didn’t know him the way she knew Farnsworth and Malone. She would rectify that tomorrow by talking to people who’d known him longer than she had, beginning with her mother and Alice Coyne Fitzgerald, both of whom had known Conklin for decades.

  Technically, she wasn’t doing anything wrong by seeking deeper background for her own information. If she uncovered anything relevant to the investigation, she’d immediately turn it over to Avery so there could be no conflict of interest claims. The last thing she wanted to do, in light of recent developments, was anything that could compromise the case they were building that might finally lead to the answers they’d needed for four years. But there was no way she could stand by and do nothing.

  Nick came into the kitchen. “What’s up?”

  “That was Freddie checking in.”

  “Anything new?”

  “Other than Deputy Chief Conklin being arrested for lying about his whereabouts on the day of my father’s shooting?”

  Nick released a gasp. “Seriously?”

  “Yep. We’ve got a paramedic who can put him on G Street and says he gave Conklin my dad’s messenger bag that day to return to the family. We never received it.”

  “Holy shit. Samantha... You must be reeling.”

  “I am. All this time, we’ve been looking for answers that were right in our own ranks. It’s hard to believe. And PS I’m not supposed to be telling even you about this.”

  “No worries. I’d never repeat it to anyone. Why do you have that calculating look about you?” He refilled his glass with a small amount of whiskey, which sometimes helped him sleep. Nothing worked consistently to overcome his insomnia.

  “They’re keeping me far away from this for obvious reasons, so I’m thinking of ways I can assist in the investigation without actually assisting in the investigation.”