Fatal Affair Page 7

  That was why she planned to work around the clock, if that’s what it took, to break this case as fast as she could—long before anyone found out that she had once spent a night with the man who’d found the senator dead. If she was unsuccessful and her superiors discovered that she’d had yet another lapse in judgment, she could kiss her hard-won career goodbye. And then what would she do? What was she without this job? Who was she? No one.

  Shaking off that unpleasant thought, Sam told Freddie she’d be back after the press conference and headed for Chief Farnsworth’s office. On the way, she stopped in the restroom to splash cold water on her face. Looking up at her reflection, she was startled by the bruised-looking circles under her eyes, the pale, almost translucent skin made more so by weeks of sleepless nights, and eyes that couldn’t hide the torment.

  She had told them she was ready to come back, had assured the department psychologist she could handle anything the job threw her way. But could she handle seeing Nick Cappuano again? Could she handle how it had felt—even six years later—to be engulfed once again by those strong arms, to be kissed by those soft lips, to be on the receiving end of those heated eyes? God! Those eyes of his were flat-out amazing.

  “Stop, Sam,” she whispered to the face in the mirror, a face she barely recognized. “Please stop. Do your job and stop thinking about him. Think about the senator.”

  Reaching for a paper towel, she blotted the excess water from her face and took a deep breath. “The senator,” she said once more as she prepared to stand next to the chief at the press conference.

  The questions were brutal.

  “How can you trust someone with Sergeant Holland’s poor judgment to oversee such an important investigation?”

  Chief Farnsworth, bless his heart, made it clear that she was the detective best suited to lead the investigation, and she had his full confidence and trust.

  As Sam imagined what he’d have to say about her relationship with a material witness, she swallowed hard. Enough of that, she thought. You’ve made your decision where he’s concerned. It was one night, so stop thinking about it. Yeah, right. Okay.

  Once the reporters were done attacking her, they moved on to more specific questions about the investigation.

  “Do you have any suspects?”

  The chief nodded at Sam to take the question. “We’re considering a number of possible suspects but haven’t narrowed it down to one yet.”

  “What’s taking so long?”

  “The senator led a complex, complicated life. It’s going to take some time to put all the pieces together, but I’m confident that we’ll bring the investigation to a satisfactory conclusion.”

  “Any word on funeral plans?”

  “You’ll have to ask his office about that.”

  “Can you tell us how the senator was murdered?”

  “No.”

  “Was his apartment broken into?”

  “No comment.”

  “Was there a struggle?”

  “No comment.”

  The chief stepped in. “That’s it for now, folks. As soon as we have more to tell you, we’ll let you know.” He ushered Sam off the stage and into his office. “You did a good job out there. I know that wasn’t easy.” Studying her for a long moment, he said, “You’re not sleeping well.”

  She shrugged. “Got a lot on my mind.”

  “Maybe you should talk to Dr. Trulo about a prescription—”

  Sam held up a hand to stop him. “I haven’t reached that point yet.”

  “I need you at the top of your game right now.”

  “Don’t worry. I am.”

  “I like this Christina Billings for a person of interest.”

  “I don’t know,” Sam said, shaking her head. “The people in the office said the food was hot when she returned with it, so it seems like she went straight back. The records at the parking garage show she returned twenty-eight minutes after she left.”

  “Could she have gone to his place before the restaurant?”

  “She’d have had to drive across the District to the Watergate, kill him and get back with Chinese in half an hour. Not enough time. Plus, the knife severed his jugular. The blow would’ve sprayed blood all over her. Cappuano, the chief of staff, said she had on the same suit the next morning that she’d worn the day before because they pulled an all-nighter at the office to get ready for the vote the next day. Based on that, I’m on the verge of ruling her out.”

  The chief rubbed at his chin as he thought it over. “Do some digging into her. She had motive, opportunity and a key. Don’t rule her out too quickly.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Same thing with his brother. Again, we have motive, opportunity and no alibi if he can’t produce the woman he says he was with.”

  “Right. We’re going to talk to him more formally. Another thought that’s been running around in my head is the sister and brother-in-law, Lizbeth and Royce Hamilton.”

  “Why?”

  “Their kids are most likely the senator’s heirs. The O’Connor parents will be here at six to view the body. I’ll ask Graham O’Connor about his son’s will, and I’ve got Cruz digging into their finances. Then there’s Stenhouse, the O’Connors’s bitter political rival. He went home to Missouri for a long-planned fund-raiser today, but we’ve got an appointment with him in the morning.”

  “What do you think of that angle?”

  “Not much, which is why I didn’t stop him from going to Missouri. There’s no way he had a key to the place, and I’m convinced that whoever did this was someone John O’Connor was close to.”

  “Girlfriends?”

  “Billings is getting us a list of women he’s seen socially in the last six months and anyone who had a key. I’m also going to ask the senior Senator O’Connor if there might be keys still floating around from when he lived there.”

  “The surveillance videos were no help?”

  “We couldn’t I.D. anyone and neither could Cappuano. The video captures activity in the lobby and elevator areas but not at individual doors, so that didn’t help much. It was a cold night, and everyone was bundled up pretty tight with hats and scarves. We had trouble making out faces.”

  Startled, the chief looked up at her.

  “What?”

  “People were bundled up…”

  “What about it?”

  “Is it possible Christina Billings had a coat she ditched after the killing?”

  Intrigued, Sam puzzled that over. “That would explain why the suit wasn’t ruined.”

  “Exactly. Might be time to get a warrant to search her car.”

  “Jesus,” Sam said. “Why didn’t I think of this?”

  “You would have. I think you’ve got a timing problem where she’s concerned, but it seems to me like you’ve got every base covered, Sergeant.”

  “I’m trying.”

  They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

  “Come in,” the chief called.

  The door opened and Freddie stepped into the room, looking nervous and uncertain.

  “Detective Cruz.”

  “Hello, sir,” Freddie stammered. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but the officers going through the documents taken from the senator’s apartment have uncovered a life insurance policy that I think you need to see, Sergeant Holland.” He handed it to her.

  Sam scanned the document, her eyes widening at the two-million-dollar amount. An involuntary gasp escaped when she saw the beneficiary’s name: Nicholas Cappuano.

  Twenty minutes later, Sam stormed past Nick’s startled staff straight into his office and slammed the door behind her.

  He never looked up from what he was doing when he said, “Back so soon, Sergeant?”

  “You son of a bitch!”

  He finally glanced at her, but there was steel in his normally amiable eyes. “Care to explain yourself?”

  “How about you explain yourself.” She slapped the insurance policy down in front of him
.

  Without breaking the intense gaze, he reached for the document. “What’s this?”

  “You tell me.”

  He finally looked away from her. “It’s an insurance policy.”

  “To me it looks like a two-million-dollar insurance policy,” Sam clarified. “Flip to the last page.”

  He did as she asked. “I’m the beneficiary?” he asked with what appeared to be genuine shock.

  “As if you didn’t know.”

  “I didn’t! I had no idea he’d done this!” An odd expression settled on his face. “So…that’s what he meant.” His voice faded to a whisper.

  She wanted to demand he say more but waited for him to collect his thoughts.

  “I once told John, back when I first met him and figured out who his father was, that I couldn’t imagine in my wildest dreams ever being a millionaire. He said, ‘You never know.’” Nick ran his hand reverently over the pages of the policy. “Then about a month ago, the subject came up again because I made a joke about how rich I’m getting running his office. He said I still had plenty of time to be a millionaire and that what I was doing—what we’re all doing—was more important than money.” Nick looked over at Sam. “That was the first time it seemed to me that he really embraced the significance of the office he held. Then he said I could be a millionaire sooner than I thought and walked away.”

  “You didn’t ask him what he meant by that?”

  He shook his head. “It seemed like a throwaway line at the time, but now it takes on more significance.”

  “Do you think he knew he was going to die soon?”

  “No, but he had a sense that he was going to die young. He’d get into these maudlin discussions when we’d been drinking. We called them his philosophical moods.”

  “Did he have these moods often?”

  Nick considered that. “More often lately, now that you mention it. Christina asked me last week if I thought he might be depressed.”

  “Did you?”

  “Distracted might be a better word than depressed. He definitely had something on his mind.”

  “And you have no idea what?”

  “I tried to talk to him about it a couple of times, but he brushed it off. Said he was focused on the bill and getting it passed. I chalked it up to stress.”

  “You really didn’t know about the insurance?”

  “I swear to God. Give me a polygraph.”

  Sam studied him for a long moment. “That won’t be necessary. Congratulations, looks like you’re finally going to be a millionaire.”

  “Hell of a way to get there,” he said softly.

  The last of the steam she’d come in with dissipated. “Nick…” She resisted the powerful urge to walk around the desk and embrace him. Clearing the emotion from her throat, she said, “His parents are coming in at six. They want to see him. Do you think maybe you could come, too? It might help them to have a familiar face there.”

  “Of course.”

  “I could take you and bring you back later so you don’t have to deal with the parking situation over there.”

  “Sure.” He stood up and reached for the suit coat that was draped over the back of his chair.

  Sam’s mouth went dry as she watched the play of his muscles under the pale blue dress shirt he had worn without a tie. His hands were graceful as he adjusted his collar. She remembered the way those hands had felt moving over her fevered skin so many years ago. The memory shouldn’t have been so vivid, but there it was, as bright and as real as if it had happened only yesterday.

  He caught her watching him. “What?”

  Her face heated. “Nothing.”

  Without looking away from her, he came around the desk and stopped right in front of her. He reached out and ran a finger over her cheek. “I think about it, too. I never stopped thinking about it.”

  “Don’t.” She wondered how it was possible that he had read her mind so easily. “Please.”

  “Even in the midst of everything else that’s going on, even as I plan my best friend’s funeral, even as I deal with a traumatized staff and John’s parents, I want you. I think about you, and I want you.”

  “I can’t, Nick. My job is on the line. My whole career is riding on this investigation. I can’t let you do this to me right now.”

  “What about later? After it’s over?”

  “Maybe. We’ll have to see.”

  “Then that’ll have to do.” He gestured for her to lead the way out of his office. “For now.”

  Chapter 10

  “What’s the plan for the funeral?” Sam asked Nick as they sat in heavy traffic on Constitution Avenue.

  “He’ll lie in state at the capitol in Richmond for forty-eight hours, beginning on Friday. The funeral will be held at the National Cathedral on Monday with burial at Arlington a week or two later. It takes a while to get that arranged.”

  “I didn’t realize he was a veteran.”

  “Four years in the Navy after college.”

  “If possible, I’d like to attend the funeral with you in case I need you to identify anyone for me.”

  “Sure. I’ll do what I can.”

  “Thank you.” She wanted to say more but found her tongue to be uncharacteristically tied in knots. After a long, awkward pause, she glanced over at him. “I, um, I appreciate the help you’re giving me with background and insight into the senator’s relationships.”

  “Have you spoken to Natalie yet?”

  Sam’s brain raced through the various lists of friends, family, coworkers, and acquaintances. “I haven’t heard of a Natalie. Who is she?”

  “Natalie Jordan. She was John’s girlfriend for a couple of years.”

  “When?”

  Nick thought about that. “I’d say for about two years before he ran for the Senate and maybe a year after he was sworn in.”

  “Did it end badly?”

  “It ended. I was never sure why. He wouldn’t talk about it.”

  “Yet you saw fit to toss her name into a homicide investigation.”

  He shrugged. “You were mad I didn’t tell you Chris was in love with him. Natalie was important to him for a long time. In fact, she was the only woman I ever knew of who was truly important to him. I just thought you should know about her.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “Married to the number-two guy at Justice. I think they live in Alexandria.”

  “Did he ever see her?”

  “Sometimes they’d run into each other at Democratic Party events in Virginia.”

  “Would she still have a key to his apartment?”

  “Possibly. They lived together there for the last year or so that they were together.”

  “Did you like her?”

  Nick rested his head against the back of the seat. “She wasn’t my type, but he seemed happy with her.”

  “But did you like her?”

  “Not really.”

  “Why not?”

  “She always struck me as a social climber. We rubbed each other the wrong way—probably because I couldn’t do anything to advance her agenda so she didn’t have much use for me.”

  “Knowing he dated someone like that seems contrary to the picture you and others have painted of him. To me, he wouldn’t have had the patience for it.”

  “He was dazzled by her. She’s quite…well, if you talk to her, you’ll see what I mean.”

  “What do you think of his sister and brother-in-law?”

  Nick appeared startled by the question. “Salt of the earth. Both of them.”

  “What’s his story? Royce Hamilton?”

  “He’s a horse trainer. One of the best there is from what I’ve heard. Lizbeth has been crazy about horses all her life. John always said she and Royce were a match made in heaven.”

  “Any financial problems?”

  “None that I ever heard of—not that I heard much about them. I saw them at holidays, occasional dinners in Leesburg, fund-raisers here and there
, but we don’t travel in the same circles.”

  “What circle do they travel in?”

  “The Loudoun County horse circle. John adored their kids. He talked about them all the time, had pictures of them everywhere.”

  “What did Senator O’Connor think of his only daughter marrying a horse trainer?”

  “Royce is an intelligent guy. And more important, he’s a gentleman. The senator could appreciate those qualities in a potential son-in-law, even if he wasn’t a doctor or a lawyer or a politician. Besides, Lizbeth was wild about him. Her father was smart enough to know there’d be no point in getting in the way of that.”

  “What about her? Could she have had some sort of dispute with John?”

  Nick shook his head. “She was completely and utterly devoted to him. She was one of our best campaigners and fund-raisers.” He chuckled. “John called her The Force. No one could say no to her when she went out on the stump for her ‘baby brother.’ There’s no way she had anything to do with this.” More emphatically, he added, “No way.”

  “Did she have a key to the Watergate apartment?”

  “Most likely. Everyone in the family used the place when they were in town.”

  “That place has more keys out than a no-tell motel.”

  “It was just like John to give keys to everyone he knew and think nothing of it.”

  “Yet he was the only other person in the world who had a key to your place. Can you see the irony in that?”

  “He led a bigger life than I do.”

  “Tell me about your life,” she said on an impulse.

  He raised that swarthy eyebrow. “Who’s asking? The woman or the detective?”

  Sam took a moment to appreciate his quick intelligence, remembering how attractive she had found that the first time she met him. “Both,” she confessed.

  He glanced at her, and even though her eyes were on the road, she felt the heat of his gaze. “I work. A lot.”