Fatal Accusation Read online

  While she had nothing but admiration and awe for the kind of mother Cleo had been, Sam considered it a good day for her family if everyone was fed and bathed.

  Nick took over with Aubrey when he saw that the little girl’s anxiety was upsetting Sam.

  “Is she okay?” Sam asked when he came in from seeing off the Secret Service details taking Aubrey and Alden to kindergarten and Scotty to middle school.

  “She was giggling by the time they left. Alden told her the thunder was Mommy and Daddy bowling in heaven, and she shouldn’t be upset. That it was their way of saying hello.”

  Sam placed her hand over her heart. “Dear God, I’m going to sob.”

  “I know. I had a lump the size of an orange in my throat and so did the agents.”

  “He’s very wise for someone so young.”

  “He reminds me of Scotty when I first knew him.”

  “Like Scotty, he’s seen far too much.” Alden had witnessed part of the assault his parents had endured.

  Nick hugged her and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Yes, he has. Are you okay?”

  “I will be, but it kills me to see Aubrey upset and not be able to comfort her.”

  “She’s okay, so try to shake it off so it doesn’t ruin your day.”

  He released her and dropped the morning papers on the table.

  They eyed them with trepidation.

  “I’m almost afraid to look,” she said.

  “I’m completely afraid to look.” Nick flipped open the Washington Star, which boasted the banner headline Nelson Acknowledges Affair, Denies Fathering Child.

  “Ugh,” Sam said.

  “That about sums it up.”

  Sam stood over his shoulder as they read the salacious details about the president’s affair with the campaign staffer.

  “Sources tell the Star that the affair began during the campaign, during which time the president and Ms. Weber were near-constant companions.”

  Reading the words out loud, Sam felt her stomach start to ache again as the ramifications compounded. Nelson had barely hung on after his son was charged in a series of politically motivated murders, and now this...

  “The affair is bad enough,” Nick said, “but when word gets out that it happened while his wife had cancer? People will never forgive him for that.”

  “They don’t have to forgive him. They just need to keep him around for three more years.”

  “Which is a big ask after this.”

  That didn’t help Sam’s stomach. “What’re your people saying?”

  “I haven’t looked yet.”

  “Are you in denial?”

  He looked up at her. “Aren’t you?”

  “Hell, yes. I can’t believe this is happening so soon after the other thing. I mean, how much scandal can one administration handle? Not to mention the fuel he’s giving the opposition for the next election cycle. Look at them, they’ll say, they elected a president—twice—whose son was a murderer and who cheated on his wife at her lowest moment.”

  Sam liked to think that the next election cycle wouldn’t be their problem, but with Nick as the heir apparent, it was still very much their concern. Or his concern, she should say. She tried to stay detached from the realities of his role as vice president. Not that she didn’t fully support him. She did, but she supported him from inside a comfortable bubble that kept her insulated from the possibility that he might have to become president at any moment.

  Despite his promotion to vice president, they’d managed to eke out a fairly normal existence. Other than the ever-present Secret Service that surrounded him and the three children, and Nick’s inability to move freely, life was still relatively similar to what it had been before. Well, it was for her anyway.

  They’d declined Secret Service protection for her so she could continue to do her job as the lieutenant in charge of the Metropolitan Police Department’s Homicide division. For the most part, people left her alone, even if they were endlessly fascinated by her dual roles as a cop and second lady. But if he became president, they were under no illusions that she’d be able to continue running the streets the way she did now.

  The possibility of losing her freedom made Sam a little panicky, which was ridiculous. So the president had had an affair and possibly produced a love child at sixty-something years old. People did stupid shit all the time and got away with it. If only it hadn’t happened while his wife was being treated for cancer. That detail could be the deal breaker for everyone who mattered.

  Sam’s phone rang with a call from Darren Tabor, a reporter with the Washington Star who’d become a friend of sorts over the years.

  She took the call. “Morning.”

  “Morning. Have you seen the paper?”

  “Looking at it now.”

  “You could make my day, my life and my career with a comment from yourself and/or the vice president about your feelings on the latest Nelson scandal.”

  “It makes me sad, Darren.”

  “What does?”

  “That after all this time, it seems you don’t know me at all.” Sam had to force herself not to crack up at her own joke.

  “Sam! Come on! It’s the story of the year, and you guys certainly have a stake in it.”

  She met Nick’s gaze and held it. “That may be true, but I can assure you that I speak for the vice president when I tell you we’ll have no comment about it now or ever.”

  Her husband gave a subtle nod of approval.

  “How can you say that? If Nelson has to resign—”

  “Darren, listen to me. We’re well aware of what could happen, but we’re not going to speculate publicly. And that’s not for attribution.”

  “You’re killing me, Sam.”

  “No, I’m not, because I wouldn’t want to have to deal with the paperwork that would involve.”

  His frustrated growl came through the phone loud and clear.

  “Have a good day, Darren.”

  “Yeah, you too.”

  Sam closed her phone with the satisfying slap that kept her firmly in the 3G while the rest of the world had long ago moved on. “That went rather well, if I do say so myself.”

  Nick laughed. “You missed your calling as a political spokesperson, my love.”

  Sam rolled her eyes. “That is the last job I could ever do. I don’t possess an ounce of diplomacy or restraint.”

  “And that’s why I love you so much.”

  Raising a brow in his direction, she said, “That’s why?”

  “One of so many reasons, I can’t count them all.”

  “And that, right there, is why you’re the politician. You always have the perfect line at the ready.”

  “Only when I’m discussing my gorgeous, sexy, non-politically-correct wife.”

  “You’re good, Mr. Vice President. I gotta give you that.”

  His shit-eating grin made him sexier than he already was, if that was possible.

  “And now I must leave you, to continue cleaning up the absolute mess that my father’s case has made of my life at work. The paperwork never ends.”

  “What’s the latest?”

  “The three defendants are appearing in court this morning to enter pleas.”

  “Are you planning to go?”

  “Probably not.”

  “If you go, you shouldn’t go alone. I can move some things around—”

  She placed a finger over his lips. “No need. If I go, Freddie will be with me, and there’s going to be a lot of court crap over the next few years. You’re not going to be able to go every time.”

  “I would if I could. You know that, I hope.”

  “Of course I do, and I appreciate it. But it’s going to be a marathon, not a sprint, and we need to pace ourselves.”

  “Does that mean you’l
l be pacing yourself too?”

  “As much as I can. The arrests were part one. Making sure they’re convicted is part two, and it’s every bit as critical as part one.”

  He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “I know it’s hard for you to be patient while the system takes its own sweet time, but you all have put together an airtight case. You’ve done all you can to make sure the U.S. Attorney has what he needs to make them pay.”

  “That may be true, but until I hear the words guilty, guilty and guilty, it won’t truly be over for me.”

  “I know, babe, but please tell me you’ll be careful with my wife in the meantime. She’s my whole world, and when she hurts, I hurt.”

  She smiled down at him. “I’ll be careful. I promise. And you, my friend, need to schedule some time with the boss today to get a handle on what we’re looking at with this affair situation.”

  “I know,” Nick said glumly. “I already texted Terry to tell him to get me on the schedule.”

  Sam leaned in to kiss him goodbye, dreading the long, arduous day ahead until she could be with him again. “Let me know how that goes.”

  “You’ll be the first to know.”

  * * *

  WHEN SAM ARRIVED at HQ a short time later, she noted the massive scrum of reporters outside the main door and drove around to the morgue entrance to avoid them. Whenever scandal struck the administration, they stalked her workplace, hoping to get a comment from her. She never gave them anything, deferring questions about her husband to the White House, but still they came. They were going to leave disappointed again today.

  She popped into the morgue to say hello to Lindsey, who was at her computer nursing a tall cup of the tea she said she couldn’t function without.

  “Morning.”

  “Hey, I was just thinking of you. Any word on what the hell is happening at the White House?”

  “Nothing official, but I suspect the president isn’t having a good day.”

  “I feel so bad for Gloria. She’s such an amazing person, who’s dedicated her life to people less fortunate.”

  Sam hesitated, but only for a second, deciding she could trust Lindsey with the rest of the story. “There’s more to it that no one knows yet.”

  “Can you tell?”

  “If you keep a lid on it.”

  “My lips are sealed.”

  “Gloria was being treated for stage two ovarian cancer around the time the affair supposedly started.”

  “Ugh, you’ve got to be kidding me. That makes it extra revolting.”

  “I know. That’s the part I can’t get over either. I mean, the infidelity is bad enough, but the timing of her illness takes it to a whole other level of disgusting.”

  “Seriously.” Lindsey shuddered. “If Terry ever did something like that to me...”

  “He never would. He’s fully aware that he’s marrying up, and he’ll continue to treat you like the goddess you are, or I’ll stab him with my rusty steak knife.”

  Lindsey tried not to smile. “May I quote you on that?”

  “By all means. Put him on notice.”

  “It’s not something I worry about where he’s concerned, but when the president does it, you start to wonder if it’s something they all do.”

  “It’s not,” Sam said. “If there is one thing in my life I’m absolutely sure of, it’s that my husband has no interest in anyone but me.”

  “The whole world is sure of that with you two. The man is thoroughly besotted.”

  “So is yours, Linds. You got nothing to worry about.”

  “I know.” As usual when she spoke of Terry O’Connor, Lindsey’s entire demeanor softened.

  “How’s the wedding planning coming?” Sam honestly didn’t want to hear about the wedding, but she tried to be a good friend, and being a good friend to Lindsey right now meant asking about the wedding.

  “Shelby is a godsend, as you know,” Lindsey said of Sam and Nick’s personal assistant, whom they met when she planned their wedding. She kept a hand in her wedding planning business even as she worked for them full-time.

  “I’m well aware,” Sam said. “I’d be lost without her, and my wedding would’ve been a disaster if she hadn’t handled every detail.”

  “She told me yesterday that I need to get my wedding party in order, and as such, I was hoping it would be okay if I asked you to be one of my attendants even though I know you hate such things with the passion of a thousand bloody hemorrhoids.”

  Sam sputtered. “I’m not that bad.”

  “Um, yes, you are, but I’d still be honored to have you. Terry is going to ask Nick to be his best man.”

  “He’ll be honored and so am I—with one caveat. There’d better not be any of those stupid fucking shower games. You need to promise me there won’t be any of that crap. I absolutely refuse to participate in wrapping you in toilet paper.”

  Lindsey cracked up. “I’ll let my sister, the matron of honor, know that there are to be no shower games under any circumstances.”

  “Great, then I’m all yours. Oh, and the dress can’t be fugly either.”

  Lindsey continued to laugh helplessly. “I’m giving you guys a color and letting you pick what you want. Believe me, I’ve worn enough fugly dresses in my time. I’d never do that to my girls. The benefit of being an older bride is knowing what you don’t want.”

  “Older,” Sam scoffed. “What’re you, thirty-three?”

  “Six and hearing the tick, tick, tick of my biological clock.” As soon as she said that, she grimaced. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

  “Stop. Please don’t do that. Just because I seem to be infertile doesn’t mean I begrudge others their ability to procreate. The world is probably better off without another Sam Holland running around out there.”

  “The world would be lucky to have another Sam Holland.”

  “Aww, you’re sweet, but I’m honestly okay with it. Don’t get me wrong—I’d still love nothing more than to have a baby with Nick, but ever since Scotty came to live with us, the burning need for it isn’t quite the same as it was. Now it’s more like it would be nice if it happens, but if it doesn’t, that’s okay too.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

  “Believe me, my plate is more than full with the twins and Scotty and this job that never lets up. If I had a baby, I’d have to make some big changes I’m probably not prepared to make right now.” She shrugged, as if having a baby hadn’t once been the most important thing in her life. “Things change, and people evolve. I couldn’t be happier with the family I have or feel more fortunate to have three beautiful kids to love as well as the twins’ older brother in our lives.”

  “You are fortunate, and it’s nice that you can see that.”

  “We don’t always get what we want, but sometimes we get what we need.”

  “I seem to recall a song that said something like that...”

  Sam laughed. “One of my favorites.”

  “You like a song by someone other than Bon Jovi?” Lindsey asked, scandalized.

  “Only like six songs by others, so don’t make a thing of it.”

  “Hate to ask, but any word on Stahl’s trial?”

  “The defense is putting on their shit show this week and then it goes to the jury. His attorneys actually got a few people to say what an upstanding public servant he was. Whatever. When you wrap someone in razor wire and try to set them on fire, it sort of negates your service to the homeless, you know?”

  “Ah, yeah, I agree. Everyone here is hoping for a conviction.”

  “Everyone?” Sam asked, brow raised.

  “Well, almost everyone.”

  “I’m sure Ramsey would love to see him get off so they can continue to torture me in their own special way.” Sam had tangled frequently with the sergeant from Spec
ial Victims, who hated her for reasons known only to him. “What’s life without a few good enemies?”

  “Peaceful?”

  “What fun would that be?” Sam’s phone rang and she took the call from her partner, Detective Freddie Cruz. “What’s up?”

  “Malone is looking for you.”

  “I’ll be right there.” She slapped the phone closed. “Gotta run. The captain is looking for me.”

  “What’d you do now?”

  “Could be so many things. Have a good day, Doc.”

  “You too.” Sam left the morgue and navigated the winding corridors that led to the pit where her detectives were hard at work—or at least they’d better be. The paperwork surrounding the investigation into her father’s shooting had been voluminous, and they’d been meticulous to make sure every thread was firmly sewn up. With their deputy chief implicated in the crime, they’d gone the extra mile of working with the FBI to ensure the investigation was unimpeachable.

  Captain Malone was waiting for her, leaning against Freddie’s cubicle, chatting about the Capitals and their chances for another Stanley Cup.

  “There you are. I saw your car and wondered where you were.”

  “I was in the morgue with Lindsey.”

  “Ah, gotcha. Can we talk?”

  Sam glanced at her mentor and friend, who sounded off. “Sure. Come in.” As she followed him to her office, she looked back at Freddie, who shrugged.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  SAM UNLOCKED THE office door and gestured for the captain to go in ahead of her as she flipped on the lights and closed the door behind her, thinking, What fresh hell awaits me today? “Everything okay?” She walked around the desk to sit while he took her visitor chair.

  “I just keep going over it and over it in my mind, and I can’t get it to make sense.”

  “What’s that?”