06 Fatal Mistake Page 22

  “Thanks for the support. I’m ready to get out of here. Go home and get some sleep. I’ll see you bright and early.”

  “See you then.”

  Sam had just closed the door and was about to lock it when Archie came into the pit and pointed at her office. Her departure foiled, she went back into the office and turned on the lights. “Didn’t I just see you?”

  Archie followed her and closed the door behind him. “I got back to my office to find that we’ve got Stahl screwed every which way to Tuesday.” He held up a flash drive. “Caught on camera at the time the call was made to the Star from the Lieutenants’ Lounge. He’s the only one in there.”

  Sam’s heart beat faster as she absorbed the implications. “We have to take this to the chief.”

  “Right now?”

  “I’ve got nothing better to do. Do you?”

  They both did, but Archie smiled anyway. “Not a thing. Shall we?”

  “After you.”

  As they walked to the chief’s suite in silence, Sam had to force herself to keep calm as the thought of being rid of Stahl once and for all sent hope surging through her. Don’t get ahead of yourself, she thought as the chief’s admin waved them into his office.

  “Lieutenants,” Farnsworth said, rising as Archie closed the door behind him. “What can I do for you?”

  “Lieutenant Archelotta has determined where our leak came from in the Vasquez investigation,” Sam said.

  “I was able to trace the call to the Star from the Lieutenants’ Lounge. With the help of video surveillance, I determined who was in the lounge at the time the call was made.” He held up the flash drive and gestured to the chief’s computer. “May I?”

  “By all means,” the chief said, frowning as he stepped aside to make room for Archie.

  Sam’s palms were clammy as she waited for the video to pop up on the screen. When it did, Stahl was plainly visible and could be heard speaking about Willie Vasquez. “You didn’t hear this from me,” he said, “but they found the guy in a Dumpster. Someone decided to take out the trash.”

  Farnsworth’s expression was positively thunderous when he reached for his phone. “Please ask Deputy Chief Conklin and Captain Malone to come in here. Thank you.”

  The three of them coexisted in tense silence until Conklin and Malone arrived.

  “Lieutenant Archelotta, will you please tell Deputy Chief Conklin and Captain Malone what you told me?”

  Archie went through the whole thing again, from the tip received by Star reporter Darren Tabor to tracing the call to the Lieutenants’ Lounge to catching Stahl red-handed on the video, which was no less startling the second time Sam saw it.

  “You gotta be kidding me,” Conklin said.

  “The guy’s got balls,” Malone added. “You gotta give him that.”

  Stone-faced, Farnsworth picked up the phone again. “Please ask Lieutenant Stahl to come in here immediately.”

  Stahl arrived ten minutes later with a knock on the door. “You wanted to see me, Chief?” His eyes narrowed with displeasure when they landed on Sam. “What’s going on?”

  “I’d like to know,” Farnsworth said, “if you had anything at all to do with a tip that Darren Tabor from the Washington Star received about the Vasquez case regarding something we were intentionally withholding from the public.”

  Stahl’s face turned the unhealthy shade of purple that Sam often inspired in him. “Did she tell you that?” He jabbed a thumb in Sam’s direction.

  “Answer the question!” Farnsworth roared.

  “I had nothing to do with that,” Stahl said indignantly. “Regardless of what Lieutenant Holland might’ve told you.”

  “Lieutenant Holland didn’t tell me anything,” Farnsworth said. “You did.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Lieutenant Archelotta,” Farnsworth said, his steely stare fixed on Stahl. “Roll the tape.”

  Sam had worn the uniform for more than thirteen years. She’d had the satisfaction of nailing a lot of scumbags in her day. But nothing in her career would ever compare to the moment when it registered with Stahl that they could prove he had, in fact, made the call he’d just denied making.

  Purple wasn’t the right word for the hue that occupied his face. Naturally, all his venom was directed at her. “She set me up! She’s been trying to get rid of me for years!”

  Sam kept her expression completely neutral and let him dig his own grave.

  “I’ll take your badge, weapon, ID, radio and station keys,” Farnsworth said, holding out his hand.

  “You can’t be serious! I didn’t do anything that every other cop in this room hasn’t done at one time or another.”

  “I urge you to refrain from any further comment,” Conklin said. “You’re being charged with interfering with a homicide investigation by releasing embargoed information to the media against the express wishes of the officer in charge of the investigation.”

  “You’re arresting me?”

  “You bet your ass I’m arresting you, and you’re officially suspended with pay from the department pending a due process hearing.”

  Malone handed a pair of handcuffs to Conklin, who waited until Stahl thrust his badge, weapon, keys, radio and ID at the chief before he pulled Stahl’s arms behind his back.

  “I have rights! I want an attorney! You can’t arrest me for making a phone call.”

  As Conklin cuffed him, Sam wondered if it was possible she was dreaming this whole thing. Even her fertile imagination never could’ve come up with this scenario.

  “So you admit you made the call?” Malone asked. “Oh wait, we don’t need you to admit it. We have it on film. Let’s go.” Malone tugged on Stahl’s beefy arm, but he fought back, so Conklin grabbed the other arm and the two men all but dragged the shrieking lieutenant from the room.

  “You’re going to pay for this, Holland! You’d better watch your back, little girl! That stupid bitch set me up! This is all her fault!”

  “Add threatening a public official to the list of charges,” Farnsworth called after them. “That one’s a felony.” He seemed relish that last part.

  “Sure is,” Malone said.

  None of them were sorry to see the last of Stahl. If only Sam believed they’d actually seen the last of him.

  “Wow,” Archie said, summing up Sam’s sentiments.

  “Good riddance,” Farnsworth said. “But don’t quote me on that. Good work, Lieutenants.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Archie said.

  Sam could tell he was trying to hide his satisfaction in the outcome of his mini-investigation.

  “I’ll need you both to file statements,” Farnsworth said.

  “That won’t be a problem,” Sam said.

  “For me either,” Archie said. “I need to get back upstairs and see where we are with your film, Sam.”

  “Thanks.”

  After he left, Sam wasn’t sure what to say to the chief. Stahl’s downfall had been swift and unexpected.

  Farnsworth held Stahl’s badge in his hand. “How could he be so foolish?”

  “I’ve just come from speaking with Rick Lind’s wife Carla. I learned that he suffers from some sort of mental illness. It’s nothing that’s been diagnosed or anything like that, but everyone around him is aware of it. I don’t know if what Stahl suffers from is mental illness, per se, but something about him is ‘off,’ and we all know it.”

  Sighing, he lowered himself into his big leather executive chair. “I’m not at liberty to discuss personnel matters with you. However, I won’t deny what you say is true. All his venom is going to be centered on you. You know that, don’t you?”

  “It has been for a while anyway.” Sam sat in one of his visitor chairs. “What will happen now?”

  “He’ll be processed, arraigned and most likely released on bail, which is when you’ll really need to watch your back.”

  “He doesn’t scare me. I’ve got Arnie Parsons and his followers targeting me.”

>   “Sam, you need to take this stuff seriously.” He tossed Stahl’s badge onto his desk. “What’s the story with the APB for Lind?”

  “He’s gone missing.”

  “Since when?”

  “No one has seen him since the game. His wife hasn’t heard from him.”

  “And she waited until now to tell us that?”

  “Apparently, it’s not unprecedented when things don’t go his way. The people around him protect him when he’s in one of his ‘moods.’”

  “Interesting.”

  “It occurs to me that it’s possible Willie isn’t our only victim.”

  “Oh, Jesus. Really?”

  “I don’t know anything yet, but I’d like to find him. I’m going to head home now, but I’m taking work with me. I’ll be on the radio if anything comes across about Lind.”

  “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She headed for the door, but something made her turn around, which is how she caught him staring off into space. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m disappointed and disillusioned at times like this, but I’m okay.”

  “Don’t let Stahl get you down. There’re a lot more like us than there are like him.”

  “Thank God for that.”

  “Why don’t you go home and let Marti spoil you?”

  “I just might do that.”

  “Come on.” If she didn’t encourage him to leave, he’d find a reason to spend a couple more hours there. “Walk me out.”

  “If you insist.”

  “I do.” She waited while he said goodnight to his admin, who seemed shocked to see him leaving somewhat on time.

  When they walked through the main doors, the media swarmed them.

  “We’ll provide an update on the Vasquez case in the morning,” the chief said. “No comment until then.”

  “Why is there an APB for Rick Lind?” one of the reporters called after them.

  “No comment,” Farnsworth said. He was quiet until they reached the parking lot. “It might be time for me to retire.”

  Shocked to the core by the unexpected statement, Sam turned to him. “What did you say?”

  “Don’t look so astounded. I’m not as young as I used to be, and the job is wearing on me lately in a way it never did before. I don’t want to outstay my welcome.”

  “You couldn’t possibly outstay your welcome. It’s been a rough couple of days. You can’t make a decision like that at a time like this.”

  “True. I shouldn’t have said anything. Consider it a weak moment.”

  “This place wouldn’t be the same without you.”

  “Oh, sure it would. It was fine before me, and it’ll be fine after me. You might have to follow the rules a little more closely without old Uncle Joe around to run interference for you,” he added with a teasing smile.

  Sam shuddered at the thought. “All the more reason for you to stick around.”

  He laughed, which she’d hoped he would.

  “While I have you, let me run something past you,” Sam said.

  “Sure.”

  “Detective McBride asked me to be an attendant in her wedding. Since this is the first time one of my detectives asked me to be in their wedding, I had no idea what I should say.”

  “Do you want to do it?”

  “I wouldn’t be completely opposed. I think a lot of her. I guess you could say we’re friends—as much as we can be anyway.”

  “I was going to say if you didn’t want to do it, feel free to pin it on me.”

  “I like how you think,” Sam said, laughing.

  “It’s easy to see why you’d be conflicted, but I’d be more concerned about a romantic relationship between a squad commander and a subordinate than I would about something like this. I’m sure by now it’s no secret that you and Detective McBride are friendly.”

  “I guess you could say I’m friendly with all of them. I know I shouldn’t be—”

  “There’s nothing wrong with being a friendly, compassionate leader, Sam. You get much more out of them with sugar than you’ll ever get with vinegar. Just ask your old friend Stahl about that.”

  “Still, sometimes I wonder if I’m coloring outside the lines with them.”

  “As long as the lines never get blurred, you’re fine. Don’t look for trouble where there isn’t any.”

  “Good advice, thanks.”

  “Please make sure I get pictures of you in pink taffeta.”

  “Um, hello, I don’t have friends who’d have pink taffeta bridesmaid gowns.” The very thought of pink taffeta made her want to barf, especially knowing it would make Shelby’s life complete.

  His ringing laugh made her laugh too.

  “See you in the morning,” she said.

  “Get some sleep.”

  “I’ll try.”

  Sam got into her car and waited until he drove out of the lot before she followed him into traffic. The idea of the MPD without him at the helm was something she didn’t want to think about. He’d been chief the entire time she’d been on the force. He’d guided and mentored her—and protected her at times. Of that she had no doubt.

  While she certainly knew he couldn’t—and wouldn’t—work forever, she liked to think that his retirement date was years in the future. Now she had something else to worry about in addition to all the other issues on her mind at the moment.

  When her cell phone rang, she answered it without taking her eyes off the road to check the caller ID.

  “Holland.”

  “Hey, Sam.”

  “What’s up, Tinker Bell?”

  “I wanted to let you know that Tracy is here. She said she needed a place to hide out for a little while. She seems upset, and I thought you’d want to know.”

  “I’m on my way home. Thanks for the heads up.”

  “I was getting ready to leave, but I’ll keep her company until you get here.”

  “I’d appreciate that. Thanks.”

  “Hey, um, I know you have a million other things on your mind, but I was wondering...”

  “About?”

  “Agent Hill. He said he would call, but I haven’t heard from him.”

  “He’s in the Dominican Republic for the Vasquez case.”

  “Ah, okay. That makes sense. Sorry to go all junior high on you.”

  Sam laughed. “No problem. See you in a few.” Though she was anxious to spend some time with her dad, she went straight to her own Ninth Street home, vowing to see him later. Her oldest sister had been going through a difficult time with her seventeen-year-old daughter, Brooke. The stress had been wearing on Tracy for months, and Sam was anxious to hear the latest.

  She parked in front of the house and took the ramp Nick had installed so her father could visit their home, which had been just another reason to love her thoughtful husband. Inside she found Shelby sitting next to Tracy on the sofa, handing her tissues and patting her knee.

  Shelby seemed relieved to see Sam. She got up and came over to hand the box of tissues to Sam. “I’ll let you take it from here.”

  “Thanks for staying, Tinker Bell.”

  “No problem. I love Tracy. I hate to see her so upset.”

  “So do I.” As her sister was usually the one providing comfort, Sam hoped she could return many a favor. The front door clicked shut as Shelby departed, and Sam took a seat next to Tracy. “Hey, there.”

  “Hey. Sorry to show up uninvited.”

  “You’re always invited. You know that.”

  “I needed a place to hide out. Ang is up to her eyeballs in poopy diapers, and Dad and Celia would worry. This seemed like my best bet.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “What isn’t wrong? The situation with Brooke is totally out of hand. Mike told me we have to do something about her or he’s taking Ethan and Abby and going to his mother’s. He doesn’t want them around her, and I can’t say I blame him. All she does is yell and scream and tell us to fuck off. Last night she told him to go fuck himsel
f, that he’s not her father and can’t tell her what to do.”

  Sam tried to hide her shock but probably did a piss-poor job.

  “How could she say that to him after the way he’s stepped up for her for most of her life? Her own father didn’t want her, but Mike always did. You should’ve seen his face. He was heartbroken.”

  Sam ached for the man who’d entered Brooke’s life when she was just a baby and raised her as his own. “I can’t say I blame him.”

  “That’s the way she is lately. She goes right for the jugular.”

  “What in the world does she have to be so pissed off about?”

  “It’s mostly because we hate her friends and won’t let her hang out with them. She never drank or smoked or got high until she started running around with this one girl named Hoda, who’s apparently the alpha bitch of a so-called girl crew that Brooke wants in on. We asked around a bit about Hoda and her pals and didn’t like what we heard. We’ve prohibited her from hanging around with them, so she’s coming at us with her claws out.”

  Sam handed her sister another tissue.

  “I feel like a monster because I’m actually thinking about sending her away. She’s ruining our lives. The other day, Ethan told me to fuck off. He doesn’t even know what that means, but he’s heard her say it so many times that he thinks he’s being cool copying his big sister. Mike’s right—Abby and Ethan can’t live with her anymore, or she’s going to ruin them too.”

  “Shit, Trace. I’m so sorry it’s gotten this bad. I’d drag her ass over here, but we’ve got Scotty now, and we’re not home enough to manage her.”

  “You’re sweet to say that, but I wouldn’t inflict her on my worst enemy let alone my precious baby sister. She’s ruining my marriage too. All Mike and I do is fight about her. I keep telling myself we just have to get through this school year, and then she’ll be in college, but I can’t see how we can live like this for one more week, let alone a whole year. And her grades have gone to shit, so she probably won’t even get into college. I don’t know what to do.”

  Sam put her arm around Tracy and held her while she shuddered with sobs.