Fatal Flaw Page 5
“Just a slight cold. See you in a few.”
She used the remaining minutes in the car to place a call to her friend Roberto, a young man she’d met while undercover with the Johnson family.
“Is this my favorite lady cop?” he asked when he answered the call.
“One and the same. How are you, Roberto?”
“Gettin’ by. Saw some wedding pictures. I had no idea you were so fine.”
Sam hooted with laughter. “Save the bullshit. How’s the job?” She’d arranged for him to work as a clerk at city hall after he’d been caught in the spray of gunfire that killed young Quentin Johnson.
“Boring but safer than dealing drugs.”
“That’s what I want to hear.”
“So what can I do you for?”
“The killings at Carl’s.”
“Heard about that. True they was found in the freezer?”
“Yep.”
“Tough way to go. What’d ya wanna know?”
“Anything you hear. We’ve got dick, so I’ll take whatever you’ve got.”
“I don’t spend much time these days talkin’ to guys who’d lock people in a freezer. You saw to that.”
“I’m glad to hear you’re staying on the straight and narrow. Just keep your ears open for me, will you?”
“Anything for you, Lieutenant.”
“How’s your girlfriend? Still standing guard over you like a pit bull?”
That made the young man laugh—hard. “My Angel takes good care of me. Don’t forget you want me to meet your dad. Us paralyzed guys gotta stick together.”
“I’ll make that happen. Soon. Call me if you hear anything?”
“You know I will.”
After parking on Ninth Street, she retrieved latex gloves from the trunk of her car and stuffed them into her coat pockets. On the way up the ramp to her father’s house, Sam told herself there was no reason to worry about one random card among thousands of others. It was someone’s idea of a sick joke, she decided as she entered the house to find her father and stepmother in the living room.
“There’s my wayward daughter who used to visit her paralyzed old man once in a while.” Her father sounded hoarse and congested.
“What’s the matter with you?” Sam asked as she bent to kiss his warm forehead. She glanced at Celia. “Does he have a fever?”
“Low grade. I think he’s got the same crud I had at the wedding.”
Except, Sam thought, for a quadriplegic, a cold could quickly turn into pneumonia. A ripple of fear worked its way through her.
“Don’t worry,” her stepmother the nurse said, tuning into Sam’s worries. “I’m all over it.”
“I’m sure you are,” Sam said. “Have you called the doctor yet?”
Knowing how close father and daughter were, Celia sent her an indulgent smile. “Tomorrow, if he’s not better.”
“Quit hovering,” Skip said. “I’m fine. What’ve you got on the murders at Carl’s?”
“Not a damned thing. Less than nothing if that’s possible.” Like she often did, she went through the details of the case, hoping he might have an idea she hadn’t considered.
He listened and thought it over for a long quiet moment. “What about civic organizations? Business owners are often involved in the Chamber of Commerce or the Rotary. Maybe someone knew him through one of those groups and can shed some light.”
“It’s something,” Sam said. “I’ll check it out tomorrow. I’ve been working since just after midnight. I’m about to drop.”
“Then we won’t keep you,” Skip said. “Celia, what’d you want to ask her about the boxes in the attic?”
“Oh right. Do you want all of that to go to Nick’s too?”
“Nah, if it’s okay with you guys, that can stay here. It’s stuff from school and the academy. If I bring all that on top of everything else, he’ll divorce me.”
“Probably better to leave it here then,” Celia said.
“I still can’t believe I agreed to this plan of yours.”
Celia laughed. “With your crazy schedule, if I hadn’t packed for you, you’d be married five years and still living between two houses.”
Sam kissed her stepmother’s cheek. “I can’t deny that, and I can’t thank you enough.”
Celia’s pretty face radiated with happiness. “It was my pleasure, honey.”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve been mothered. I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed it.”
“Oh, well.” Celia’s green eyes went all misty. “That’s a lovely thing to say.”
“Yes, it is,” Skip said. “All that paper over there is yours and your husband’s.” Using his eyes, he directed her to the pile of mail on the table inside the door.
Sam’s eyes bugged at yet another huge stack.
“The cards have been flooding in,” Celia said. “We can’t get over it!”
Sam surveyed the pile and wondered if she’d find another threat in there. She also wondered how she’d manage to get them bagged without her father noticing. “Can you believe we got more than four thousand cards at work? Or I should say thirty-six hundred at Nick’s office and six hundred at HQ. He’s far more popular than I am.”
“And why do you know those exact numbers?” Skip asked, his shrewd eyes studying her intently.
Oh crap, Sam thought. She should’ve known the former chief of detectives would hone right in on what she’d planned to keep from him until she knew more. “No reason.”
“You expect me to believe that after being away on a rather long vacation, you had time today to count the number of wedding cards you received while you were gone? Excuse me if I don’t buy that.”
Cornered by the best detective she’d ever known, Sam squirmed.
“Spill it, Lieutenant. This minute.”
“For a guy in a wheelchair, you can be rather intimidating.”
He seemed pleased to hear that. The eyebrow on the side of his face that wasn’t paralyzed lifted to let her know she’d better start talking.
“One of the cards I got contained a threat.”
“What kind of threat?”
Reluctantly, Sam told him what the card had said.
“You’re running it through the lab?”
She nodded. “Could be nothing.”
“If you really thought it was nothing, you wouldn’t have gloves hanging out of your pockets so you can put that pile of mail into evidence bags.”
Sam stared at him, incredulous.
He smirked. “Nothing wrong with my eyesight, baby girl.”
No, she thought, wincing at the wheeze she heard coming from his chest. But there’s definitely something wrong with your lungs.
Chapter 6
Sam took the garbage bag full of cards to the home she shared with Nick, three doors down Ninth Street from her dad’s place. She had, finally, moved the majority of her clothes and a good chunk of her prized shoe collection into the spare bedroom Nick’s builder friend had made into a closet for her.
The items currently crammed into a storage unit—including the other two-thirds of her shoe collection—would be delivered at a later date. She figured she needed to do this in stages so she wouldn’t overwhelm Nick’s anal-retentive sensibilities with her utter disregard for order.
Celia had saved Sam a ton of time and aggravation by packing up the room she’d occupied at her dad’s since he was shot. No doubt her stepmother was right—without her help, Sam probably would’ve still been living between the two houses years from now.
Approaching the ramp that led to her front door, she glanced back at her dad’s place, wondering if she should’ve stayed to help Celia in case he worsened during the night.
The front door swung open. “Hey, babe,” Nick said. “You coming in?”
Celia had promised to call if she needed help, so Sam tore her eyes off the house do
wn the street and let her husband usher her into their home, a renovated double-sized townhouse he’d bought so she could be near her dad and work. Of course its Capitol Hill location put him in close proximity to his office too.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, taking her coat and hanging it in the closet when Sam would’ve tossed it over the sofa. Why hang it when she’d need it again in the morning?
“I think my dad is sick. He’s all congested and wheezy sounding, and he has a fever.”
“What did Celia say?”
“She’s on it, but I’m worried about pneumonia.”
“And what’s this?” Nick asked, gesturing to the garbage bag full of wedding cards that sat on the floor next to her.
“More well wishes that went to Dad’s house—at least I hope they’re well wishes.”
Nick kissed her forehead and then her lips. “My poor wife’s first day back to work was far more stressful than it should’ve been, wasn’t it?”
She nodded. “And now this with my dad. Maybe I should go back over there. Just in case.”
“If that’s what you want to do, I’ll go with you. We can sleep over there tonight.”
“Really? You wouldn’t mind?”
“I’d rather have you there where you can be near him than watch you wear out a path in the carpet over here worrying about him.”
Sam hadn’t realized she’d been pacing as they talked. She stopped and looped her fingers together, filled with nervous energy. “Sorry. Anything with him totally freaks me out. We’ve been so lucky to get two pretty good years since the shooting. All that time we’ve known how precarious his health is now. A simple cold is anything but for him.”
Nick came to her and put his arms around her. He unclipped her long hair and combed his fingers through her curls. Breathing in the scent of Nick, the scent of home, Sam closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest. At times like this, she could no longer remember what it had been like to live without him.
“Sometimes I feel guilty because I’m so grateful he survived the shooting even if I hate the way he has to live now,” she said.
“I think he’s come to terms with it. In his own way.”
“Yeah, but it still sucks.” What really sucked was the case remained unsolved more than two years later, despite ongoing effort by Sam and all of Skip’s former colleagues at the Metropolitan Police Department. “I’m beginning to give up on ever solving his case.”
“You will.”
Sam drew back to look up at him. “You sound awfully sure of that.”
“I’m awfully sure of you.” Keeping his eyes firmly on hers, he lowered his head and captured her mouth.
Sam linked her hands around his neck and teased him with her tongue, making him groan.
“This was the longest day,” he said. “I spent most of it missing you and daydreaming about Bora Bora.”
She kept her lips close to his. “Me too.”
His hands found their way to her bottom and squeezed. “How soon until we can go back?”
Sam laughed. “Not soon enough.”
He surprised her when he suddenly lifted her and arranged her legs around his waist. “No reason we can’t relive some of the magic right here at home.”
“Is that so?”
“Mmm-hmm.” His kisses became more urgent as he lowered them to the sofa. “I feel like I’m going through withdrawal or something.”
“Just think,” she said, running her fingers through his hair, “we get to stay on this drug for the rest of our lives.”
“Do you promise the same number of daily doses I received in Bora Bora?”
Sam laughed and brought him down for more of those heated kisses he was doling out.
“So that’s a ‘yes’?”
“You’re rather persistent this evening, Senator.”
His hands were busy divesting them of clothes. “I’m rather horny too.”
Normally, he was the epitome of finesse, but tonight he was all about urgency. The moment they were both naked, he surged into her and dropped his head to her chest. “God, I needed this.”
She loved watching his legendary control waver and then break as he took fierce possession of her. Sweat dampened his back and brow. Sam gave herself over to him, loving him more than she’d ever imagined possible.
“Babe,” he whispered. “Can’t…” He moaned and tightened his hold on her.
“It’s okay.” She ran her hands down his back and clutched his backside, which seemed to send him careening completely out of control.
His face was tight with tension as he came hard. His fingers gripped her arm and shoulder so tightly she suspected there would be bruises, not that she cared.
“Sorry,” he said, breathing hard.
“For what?” She brushed the damp hair off his brow.
“You didn’t come.”
“You can make it up to me next time.”
“And I will. I promise.” He ran his hand down her arm and linked their fingers. “I wish we’d never had to leave Bora Bora.”
“Is that so?”
“They were the best days of my life. I could’ve stayed there with you forever.”
“You would’ve missed work and your friends and your life here after a while.”
“I had everything I needed right there with me.”
“You would’ve gotten fat and lazy and slovenly.”
He chuckled and brushed his lips over the side of her breast, sending a shiver of sensation rippling through her. “We found a good way to burn off calories.”
“We certainly did.”
“More than anything, I liked having you all to myself.”
“You’ll have me all to yourself every night.”
“Not the same. Not nearly enough.”
Sam placed her free hand on his face, urging him to look at her. “What’s this all about?”
Hesitating, he looked away for a moment before he brought his gaze back to meet hers. “Having you all to myself showed me how little time together we get at home.”
“It’ll be better now that we’re officially living together.”
“It won’t be better. We’ll always be competing against a million other demands for time to ourselves.”
“True, but as long as we make our relationship the top priority we’ll work it out.”
“I told Christina today that from now on I’m only giving two nights a week and one weekend day to the campaign.”
“Can you do that?”
“I have a sixty-five-point lead over my Republican opponent, so I’m willing to risk it.”
“Is that an unusually high lead?”
“I guess so,” he said modestly. “We got a nice bump out of the wedding.”
“Glad to be of assistance.”
That sexy grin of his made her go weak in the knees even when she wasn’t lying naked in his arms. “Anyway, since we’ve got a pretty solid lead, I don’t see the need to spend so much time campaigning. Especially,” he added, kissing her, “when I have so many other things I’d rather be doing.”
“You won’t get any argument from me.”
“I had a feeling you might approve.” He propped his chin on her chest. “So do you want to go over to your dad’s?”
Sam thought about that for a minute. “Celia said she’d call if anything changes, so I guess we can stay here.”
“Want some help going through the cards?”
“Sure. The faster I get that done, the faster I can go to bed.”
“Why do you think I offered to help?”
“And here I thought your offer was entirely unselfish.”
“Oh no, babe. Not entirely.”
Terry O’Connor paced on the sidewalk outside Lindsey McNamara’s stylish townhouse in the Adams Morgan neighborhood, working up the nerve to take the next step. They’d met at Sam and Nick’s shower and engaged in some harmless flirtation. At the wedding, they’d danced the night away. After a couple of weeks of excha
nging texts and emails and more than a few multiple-hour phone calls, tonight was supposed to be their first official date. Except she’d been detained at work, so here it was close to eleven and he’d been invited over for a glass of wine.
Which was why he was pacing. He had to tell her. His sponsor had helped him see that waiting any longer would be unfair to both of them. The sponsor had also warned him, repeatedly, that he was endangering his recovery by becoming involved with someone so soon after leaving rehab. Terry had agreed to proceed carefully, and being honest with her was an important first step.
He rubbed damp palms over his jeans, summoning the courage he’d need to get through this. At the end of it, she’d either want to take a chance on him or she wouldn’t. All he could do was share the truth. The rest was up to her. Putting it off wouldn’t change the outcome. This was the story of his life now—and forever.
As the district’s chief medical examiner, he figured she probably knew he’d briefly been a suspect in his brother’s death, but she probably didn’t know the details about his years-long battle with alcohol.
“Let’s get this over with,” he said to himself. Stepping through the gate, he walked up the sidewalk and knocked on the door. While he waited for her, he took a series of deep breaths to calm his nerves.
And then there she was—all long legs and that lithe dancer’s body she’d wowed him with at the wedding. She had coiled her long red hair into a bun, and her green eyes danced with the mischief he was coming to expect from her. In typical Lindsey style, she took his hand and all but dragged him inside.
“This has been the longest day!” She led him into a contemporary living space that was warm, welcoming and entirely her. The open floor plan allowed him to see her in the kitchen uncorking a bottle of wine. “What’s your pleasure? Red or white?”
“None for me, thanks.”
As she spun around to maybe gauge whether he was serious, he thought, here it comes. They’d been so busy dancing at the wedding she hadn’t noticed he wasn’t drinking.
“Are you sure?”
He nodded and took a seat on the sofa.
She joined him, curling those endless legs under her.
Terry made an effort to keep his eyes on her face and not on the creamy expanse of skin above her pale pink tank top.