Fatal Deception Page 9

  As she headed for her office to check her e-mail before the meeting, Agent Hill came into the pit and zeroed in on her. His heated stare burned a hole right through her. What was that all about? The guy’s quiet intensity made her uncomfortable.

  “You’re all right?” he asked as he came up to her, his sharp eyes taking a full inventory that only added to the discomfort.

  “Perfectly fine and itching to get back to work. We’re meeting in five minutes in the conference room.” She went into her office and shut the door to discourage him from following her, since her better judgment was telling her to stay far, far away from the sexy agent.

  Shaking off the encounter, she fired up her computer and did a quick scan of her e-mail, which included a response from Bryn Mawr that said, “Lt. Holland, We were unable to find a match for the student you inquired about. Perhaps she was here under a different name during that period? If you can provide additional information, we’d be happy to assist in your investigation.”

  The message was hardly a surprise after what Lindsey had uncovered, but it was further confirmation that everything from Victoria’s name to her fingerprints to her college degree had been fabricated. Why? That was the question of the day.

  Also included in her e-mails was one from Nick. “Hey, babe. How’s my favorite pretty face? Not too banged up, I hope.” Sam cringed, imaging what he’d say when he saw the mess on her formerly pretty face. They hadn’t yet invented the makeup that could cover the disaster she’d seen with a quick glance in the mirror at home. Despite her determination to attend, he’d probably beg her to sit out the fundraiser so she wouldn’t scare away his supporters.

  “Anyway,” he’d continued, “you asked about my impressions of Derek and Victoria, so here you go.” Sam did a quick scan of the message, printed it out and took it with her to the meeting. He’d ended with, “Can’t wait to see you later and kiss it better. Love you.”

  Buoyed by his sweet love, she sent him a quick text to let him know she was fine and back to work. She ended it with, “See you at 6,” so he’d know she hadn’t forgotten their plans. She’d let him decide when he saw the carnage whether or not he wanted her with him.

  Sam was the last one to step into the conference room. As she was about to start the meeting, Chief Farnsworth walked in with Captain Malone in tow.

  Farnsworth took an up-close look at her battered face. “That was some fine work this morning, Lieutenant.”

  “Thank you, sir. Right place, right time.”

  “I’m sure your face would disagree.”

  “I told you it was gruesome, Chief,” Malone added.

  “Shit happens,” Sam said, anxious to get on with it. She hated being the center of attention.

  “I see a commendation in your future,” Farnsworth said.

  “Oh, well, um, thanks?” One of these days, she’d learn how to take a compliment.

  Farnsworth rolled his eyes and headed to his usual post in the back of the room.

  Relieved to be off the hot seat, Sam said, “Cruz, you’re up first, then Gonzo, Hill and McBride. Let’s hear what you’ve got.”

  The others reported in, and Sam listened intently to each detail while she stewed over the biggest detail of all—that Victoria Taft Kavanaugh’s entire life up to the point where she met and married Derek Kavanaugh had been a lie. She hated that she’d soon have to share that tidbit with the federal agent who kept his gaze set on her while the others reported.

  Why did he do that? Hadn’t his mother taught her smooth Southern gentleman that it was rude to stare at other people?

  “Hill,” she said brusquely, “it’s to you. What’ve you got that you can share with us lowly detectives who lack top-secret security clearances?”

  “Not much of anything,” he said in that honeyed accent that once might’ve set her heart to pitter-pattering, before another man had taken ownership of her heart and soul, leaving no room for anyone else. Hill gave a brief rundown of his morning with Derek Kavanaugh, detailing the legislation Kavanaugh had worked on as well as the congressional members and staff he’d clashed with on the president’s behalf.

  “How many people are we talking about?”

  “Five,” Hill said.

  “Give us a list,” Sam said. “Bears looking into.”

  “You read my mind.” Hill handed over the page he’d prepared in advance.

  “Thanks,” Sam muttered, gesturing for Freddie to take possession of Hill’s list. “I asked Nick to share anything he could think of that might tell us more about Derek and Victoria, their wedding, etcetera. But I don’t see anything in his message that we don’t already know.”

  Sam stood and used a dry-erase marker to establish a timeline of Victoria’s life, beginning with her start date at Calahan Rice, one of the few things Sam knew for sure about her.

  “She met Kavanaugh thirty days later,” Hill said, consulting his notes. “At the gym he’d frequented for many years by then. They began a friendly flirtation but he didn’t ask her out for another month.”

  Sam used a magnet to place a photo of Victoria alive next to the image from the morgue contained in Lindsey’s report.

  “What we also know is the woman in these photographs is not Victoria Taft Kavanaugh.”

  Hill, Farnsworth and Malone all spoke at once.

  “What do you mean?” Farnsworth said.

  “Who is she, then?” Malone asked.

  Hill’s amiable expression turned furious in the blink of an eye. At least he wasn’t staring at her with that heated look anymore. “When were you going to tell me this?”

  “I was getting to it.”

  “Explain,” Farnsworth said.

  Sam filled them in on what Lindsey had discovered as well as the e-mail from Bryn Mawr, indicating that they’d had no student named Victoria Taft in the years leading up to the date on the degree that hung in Victoria’s home.

  “We found no record of a Greg or Betty Taft in Defiance, Ohio,” Jeannie said. “I also ran a check on the Social Security number that was on record at the Department of Motor Vehicles.”

  “Good thinking,” Sam said, thrilled to see her friend and detective engrossed again in her work after surviving an egregious abduction and sexual assault earlier in the year. “What’d you find out?”

  “The number was registered to a William Eldridge,” Jeannie said. “Records show he died about eight years ago at the age fifty-six. I found an obituary in the Post that confirms the date of death.”

  “So not only did someone screw with AFIS, but we’ve got Social Security fraud going on here too?” Hill asked, rising and resting his hands on lean hips.

  “What I want to know is why the goddamned DMV requires Social Security numbers for people to get licenses but never bothers to check them,” Sam said.

  “That’s honestly your most pressing question?” Hill asked.

  Unused to being questioned by any member of her team, Sam immediately began to seethe. “What I mean, Agent Hill, is that if the DMV had bothered to check, we might’ve uncovered this scheme or whatever it is years before a woman was murdered and her baby kidnapped.”

  “There’s no way we can ignore the fact that this has to be connected in some way to her husband’s work,” Hill said.

  “If you’re so sure about that, find the connection,” Sam shot back.

  They engaged in a stare down that was broken only when Gonzo cleared his throat.

  Sam looked away from the aggravating agent, unnerved by the confrontation. “I don’t disagree that his work is the obvious tie-in,” she conceded, anxious to get back on track.

  “Because he has a security clearance, his wife would’ve been investigated at some point,” Hill said. “If the investigation was handled properly, all of this would’ve come out then.”

  The statement hung in the air for a charged moment of silence as everyone in the room pondered the consequences.

  “So you’re saying the investigator was probably in on whateve
r scheme they were running,” Sam said, trying to wrap her mind around the potential magnitude of the fraud.

  Hill shrugged. “I suppose we’ll find that out when we dig a little deeper.”

  “Who handles the background-check investigations?” Gonzo asked.

  “The Defense Security Service oversees them, but they often use investigators from NCIS, the FBI and other federal agencies.”

  “Can you get the name of the investigator who did Victoria’s background check?”

  “I’ll work on that,” Hill said. “But in the meantime, someone has to tell Mr. Kavanaugh what we’ve learned about his wife.”

  All eyes turned to Sam. Her heart literally ached at the thought of having to tell Derek that the woman he’d loved had lied to him about everything—even who she was.

  “Cruz and I will do it,” she said.

  “Great,” her partner said under his breath, earning him a glare from her.

  Lt. Archelotta from the IT division stepped into the room. As the only fellow officer Sam had ever been romantically involved with, his presence always caused her a moment of anxiety. This time was no different, and she noticed that Hill picked up on the vibe. Of course he did.

  “I heard you were meeting on the Kavanaugh case,” Archie said, handing her a sheaf of papers. Tall and handsome with dark hair, he’d been exactly what she needed after her split from Peter. “Here’re the reports on the last thirty days of calls into and out of the vic’s phone.”

  “Thanks for the quick work,” Sam said, handing the reports to Gonzo.

  “I’ll let you get back to it,” Archie said with a jaunty wave on the way out the door.

  “Before we adjourn, no one is to breathe a word of what we know about Victoria Kavanaugh,” Sam said. “Until we have a better handle on what exactly we’re dealing with, we need to keep a tight lid on this investigation. Do I make myself clear?”

  The other detectives in the room acknowledged her with nods and murmurs in the affirmative.

  “I’ll tolerate no leaks,” Farnsworth added. “Keep your mouths shut.”

  “Gonzo, Arnold, McBride and Tyrone, divide up the phone logs and get to work,” Sam said. “Cruz, you’re with me.”

  “And where am I?” Hill asked with the condescending edge to his voice that grated on Sam’s nerves.

  “I don’t know, Agent Hill. Where are you?”

  “He’s with you too,” Farnsworth said. “Take him with you to tell Kavanaugh what you’ve uncovered about his wife.”

  “Three’s a crowd,” Sam said.

  “Then leave Cruz here to help with the phone logs,” the chief said sternly. “The quicker we wade through that data, the faster we might find out who this woman really was. Maybe then we’ll find her killer—and her daughter.” With a devilish twinkle in his eye, the chief added, “And before you go to Herndon, you need to update the press. They’re clamoring for information about the foiled robbery and your condition. They missed their promised seven a.m. briefing, so they’re extraravenous, not to mention hot and bothered after waiting all day for you.”

  Sam bit back a moan at the idea of facing off with the reporters.

  The others filed out of the room, leaving her alone with the agent who stared at her. This day kept getting better.

  “Since I know where we’re going and have two working eyes, I’ll drive,” Hill said.

  “Both my eyes work fine.”

  He tilted his head for a better look at her face. “Um, okay, whatever you say. I’m still driving.”

  “Fine! Drive! Ask me if I care! I need to get some food, and then we can go.”

  “I need some fuel too, so we’ll eat on the way. Let’s go.”

  Sam had a sneaking suspicion her husband would be extremely unhappy to know she’d be spending the next few hours alone with Agent Hill. It would probably be best for everyone if she “forgot” to mention that to Nick. As she walked into her office to retrieve her wallet and keys, the numbness in her face began to wear off.

  Rooting around in her top desk drawer, she found a bottle of ibuprofen and downed three of them using one of the half-filled bottles of water her husband had aligned like tin soldiers on the left side of her desk. He was such a freak show, but she loved him anyway.

  “Ready?” Hill said from the door.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be to truly ruin the life of someone who thought his life was already ruined.”

  * * *

  The first Nick heard about the video of Sam’s altercation was from Graham O’Connor when he called to check in about the evening’s fundraiser.

  “It’s all over the news,” Graham said.

  Holding the phone to his ear, Nick strolled out of his office toward the bank of televisions in the conference room that were tuned to the cable news shows. Graham wasn’t kidding when he said the video was all over the airwaves. It played on every screen. Riveted, he watched Sam approach the guy from behind right as the gunman’s arm swung back, catching her square in the face with the gun.

  Thankfully, she never missed a beat. A shudder rippled through Nick as he realized what a freakishly close call it had been. Often he was left to his own imagination to picture how these things went down. This time, he got to see it for himself. He preferred his imagination.

  “Nick? Are you still there?”

  With a shake of his head, he forced his gaze off the televisions and returned to his office, but the sick feeling remained. She’d taken one hell of a hit that she’d played down in her retelling of the incident. “Yeah,” he said to Graham. “I’m here.”

  “Is Sam okay?”

  “She says she’s fine.” It had taken all the fortitude he could muster to stay away from the emergency room when everything in him pulled him toward her—as always. “A plastic surgeon stitched up her face, and she’s back to work now.”

  “We’d totally understand if she can’t make it tonight.”

  While Nick knew he was being completely irrational, the thought of going without her irritated him. He never asked her to support his work. Everything in their lives was about her work, her cases, her investigations.

  As soon as he had the thoughts, he regretted them. She was hurt, for crying out loud. She’d saved numerous lives, including her own. What right did he have to be angry that her injuries might mess up his big night? But was he wrong to want his wife with him for an important event in his career? “I guess that’ll be up to her,” he said to Graham. “If she feels up to it. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear.”

  “No need. If she’s there, she’s there. If not, everyone will understand.”

  “I feel bad. We set this up months in advance.”

  “Don’t apologize. We certainly know better than most people how unpredictable her job can be.”

  “That’s good of you. Thanks for understanding.”

  “No thanks needed. So, there’s something I need to talk to you about. I was hoping to do it tonight, but it’ll probably be too crazy.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I got a call from Halliwell,” Graham said of the new Democratic National Committee chair. Halliwell had replaced Mitchell Sanborn after Sanborn’s arrest earlier in the year. “He wanted my take on what you’d think about doing the keynote at the convention.”

  Nick was rendered speechless. By putting him front and center at the convention, they’d be setting him up for a White House run in the next election. The DNC had expressed their interest in the past, but this would make his heir-apparent status official. “What did you tell him?”

  “I suggested he speak to you directly,” Graham said with a laugh. “You certainly don’t need me behind the scenes pulling the strings anymore. Back in the day, I would’ve killed for your approval ratings. They’re grooming you, Nick. You get that, don’t you?”

  “I’ve never won an election in my life, and they’re grooming me for the top job,” Nick said, amused and honored and astounded. And saddened. This should’ve been John�
��s moment. Nick never lost sight of that.

  After a long pause, Graham said, “You’re thinking about John, aren’t you?”

  “Always.”

  “Me too. Last week, I started to pick up the phone to call him, and then I remembered... Whenever that happens, it takes me right back to that first awful day.”

  While Nick tried hard to never think about finding his best friend and boss murdered, it was also the day he’d reconnected with Sam years after a memorable one-night stand. That something so great could’ve come from such a heartbreaking event still astounded him. Nick set his gaze on the photo of John that he kept on the credenza. “I do the same thing. I find myself wanting to tell him something, to ask his opinion. Far more often than I care to confess.”

  Graham cleared the emotion from his throat. “What’ll you say to Halliwell?”

  “I suppose that depends on when and if he asks.”

  “He will. You’re their top choice. Apparently, Derek Kavanaugh was going to speak with you about it, but then his poor wife... Is there any sign of the baby?”

  “Not that I’ve heard. Not yet anyway.”

  “Lord, what he must be going through.”

  “It’s not pretty.” Nick had heard from Harry at lunchtime that Derek was in worse shape today. As the hours dragged on with no word about Maeve, Derek’s composure was shattering.

  “It’s a nightmare,” Graham said, speaking from experience. “Anyway, about the convention...”

  “If they ask me, I’ll do it. Of course I will, but I want you and Laine to know that it never leaves my mind that all this should’ve been John’s.” This wasn’t the first time Nick had worried that his adopted parents would think he was capitalizing on the opportunities their son’s death had afforded him.

  “We know, son. Of course we do. But we’re so very proud of you too. I hope you know that.”

  “Thank you,” Nick said in a hushed tone. It never got old to hear that the senator who meant so much to him, who’d taken an ambitious young man under his wing and given him a life he never could’ve imagined, was proud of him. “You don’t know what that means to me.”

  “I can’t wait to see you up there front and center at the convention. You’ll blow them away. Even the Republicans will be lining up to vote for you.”