Fatal Threat
Marie Force
With a killer on the loose, it's the worst time to be on lockdown…It's just another day at the office for Washington Metro Police lieutenant Sam Holland when a body surfaces off the shores of the Anacostia River. But before Sam can sink her teeth into the new case, Secret Service agents seize her from the crime scene. A threat has been made against her family, but nobody will tell her anything - including the whereabouts of her husband, Vice President Nick Cappuano.This isn't the first time the couple's lives have been at risk, but when a bombshell from Sam's past returns to haunt her, she can't help but wonder if there's a connection. With a ruthless killer out for vengeance, and Nick struggling to maintain his reputation after secrets from his own past are revealed, Sam works to tie the threat to a murder that can't possibly be a coincidence. And she has to get it done before her husband's career is irrevocably damaged…
With a killer on the loose, it’s the worst time to be on lockdown...
It’s just another day at the office for Washington Metro Police lieutenant Sam Holland when a body surfaces off the shores of the Anacostia River. But before Sam can sink her teeth into the new case, Secret Service agents seize her from the crime scene. A threat has been made against her family, but nobody will tell her anything—including the whereabouts of her husband, Vice President Nick Cappuano.
This isn’t the first time the couple’s lives have been at risk, but when a bombshell from Sam’s past returns to haunt her, she can’t help but wonder if there’s a connection. With a ruthless killer out for vengeance, and Nick struggling to maintain his reputation after secrets from his own past are revealed, Sam works to tie the threat to a murder that can’t possibly be a coincidence. And she has to get it done before her husband’s career is irrevocably damaged...
Praise for the Fatal Series by New York Times bestselling author Marie Force
“Force’s skill is also evident in the way that she develops the characters, from the murdered and mutilated senator to the detective and chief of staff who are trying to solve the case. The heroine, Sam, is especially complex and her secrets add depth to this mystery... This novel is The O.C. does D.C., and you just can’t get enough.”
—RT Book Reviews on Fatal Affair (4½ stars)
“Force pushes the boundaries by deftly using political issues like immigration to create an intricate mystery.”
—RT Book Reviews on Fatal Consequences (4 stars)
“The romance, the mystery, the ongoing story lines...everything about these books has me sitting on the edge of my seat and begging for more. I am anxiously awaiting the next in the series. I give Fatal Deception an A.”
—TheBookPushers.com
“The suspense is thick, the passion between Nick and Sam just keeps getting hotter and hotter.”
—Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews on Fatal Deception
“The perfect mesh of mystery and romance.”
—Night Owl Reviews on Fatal Scandal (5 stars)
Fatal Threat
Marie Force
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Contents
Cover (#ud3dc3d1d-7ab3-51c1-894a-9bd25fed94df)
Back Cover Text (#uc1b6aed1-ef66-5725-9989-a1b1ff26ad54)
Praise (#u8d92b382-0b9b-5502-a496-2d77a9566442)
Title Page (#u42445a39-6bd3-505a-bb9b-2afb50507405)
CHAPTER ONE (#u16f62cce-60a8-5e64-9424-119ee349e58a)
CHAPTER TWO (#u29979e1c-5551-5d25-825b-0627bbb66644)
CHAPTER THREE (#ud9bd605c-9e63-57db-999e-14f37cb7fa4b)
CHAPTER FOUR (#uf2446aec-bc9f-510f-9bbd-c8ea8c5a775a)
CHAPTER FIVE (#u32686597-b1cb-52fb-8019-94d40b99594e)
CHAPTER SIX (#uc7079425-4cc8-5fab-ad0e-3b1b749e7ce4)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#u7360785f-79f1-5841-a369-f39bcdaf0fb8)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
AUTHOR NOTE (#litres_trial_promo)
BRINGING NOAH HOME (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#u3e246bd7-aa16-5261-8947-fcb0bbd09212)
A JOGGER SPOTTED the body floating in the Anacostia River just south of the John Philip Sousa Bridge.
“I hate these kinds of calls,” Lieutenant Sam Holland said to her partner, Detective Freddie Cruz, as she battled District traffic on their way to the city’s southeastern quadrant. “No one knows if this is a homicide, but they call us in anyway. We get to stand around and sweat our balls off while the ME does her thing.”
“I hesitate to point out, Lieutenant, that you don’t actually have balls to sweat off.”
“You know what I mean!”
“Yeah, I do,” he said with a sigh. “It’s going to be a long, hot, smelly Friday down at the river waiting to find out if we’re needed.”
“I gotta have a talk with Dispatch about when we’re to be called and when we are not to be called.”
“Let me know how that goes.”
“To make this day even better, after work I have to go to a fitting for my freaking bridesmaid dress. I’m too damned old to be a damned bridesmaid.”
His snort of laughter only served to further irritate her, which of course made him laugh harder.
“It’s not funny!”
“Yeah, it really is.” With dark brown hair, an always-tan complexion and the perfect amount of stubble on his jaw, he really was too cute for words, not that she’d ever tell him that. Everywhere they went together, women took notice of him. For all he cared. He was madly in love with Elin Svendsen and looking forward to their autumn wedding. Wiping laughter tears from his brown eyes, he said, “I won’t make you wear a dress when you’re my best-man woman.”
“Thank God for that. I need to stop making friends. That was my first mistake.”
“Poor Jeannie,” he said of their colleague, Detective Jeannie McBride, who was getting married next weekend. “Does she have any idea that she has a hostile bridesmaid in her wedding party?”
“Of course she does. Her sisters left me completely out of the planning of the shower, no doubt at her request. I’ll be forever grateful for that small favor.” Sam shuddered, recalling an afternoon of horrifyingly stupid “shower games,” paper plates full of ribbons and bows, and dirty jokes about the wedding night for two people who’d been living together for more than a year. The whole thing had given her hives.
But Jeannie... She’d loved every second of it, and seeing her face lit up with joy had gone a long way toward alleviating Sam’s hives. After everything Jeannie had been through to get to her big day, no one was happier for her—or happier to stand up for her—than Sam. Not that she’d ever tell anyone that either. She had a reputation to maintain, after all.
She’d been in an unusually cranky mood since her husband, Nick, left for Iran two weeks ago for what should’ve been a five-day trip but had twice been extended. If he didn’t get home soon, she wouldn’t be responsible for her actions. In addition to worrying about his safety in a country known for being less than friendly toward Americans, she’d also discovered how entirely reliant upon him she’d become over the last year and a half. It was ridiculous, really. She was a strong, independent woman who’d taken care of herself for years before he’d come back into her life. So how had he turned her into a simpering, whimpering, cranky mess simply by leaving her for two damned weeks?
Naturally, the people around her had noticed that she was out of sorts. Their adopted thirteen-year-old son, Scotty, asked every morning before he left for baseball camp when Dad would be home, probably because he was tired of dealing with her by himself. Freddie and the others at work had been giving her a wide berth, and even the reporters who hounded her mercilessly had backed off after she’d bitten their heads off a few too many times.
During infrequent calls from Nick, he’d been rushed and annoyed and equally out of sorts, which didn’t do much to help her bad mood. Two more days. Two more long, boring, joyless days and then he’d be home and things could get back to normal.
What did it say about her that she was actually glad to have a floater to deal with to keep her brain occupied during the last two days of Nick’s trip? It means you have it bad for your husband, and you’ve become far too dependent on him if two weeks without him turns you into a cranky cow. Sam despised her voice of reason almost as much as she despised Nick being so far away from her for so long.
Twenty minutes after receiving the call from Dispatch, Sam and Freddie made it to M Street Southeast, which was lined with emergency vehicles of all sorts—police, fire, EMS, medical examiner.
“Major overkill for a floater,” Sam said as they got out of the car she’d parked illegally to join the party on the riverbank. “What the hell is EMS doing here?”
“Probably for the guy who found the body. Word is he was shook up.”
Dense humidity hit her at the same time as the funk of the rank-smelling river. “God, it’s hotter than the devil’s dick today.”
“Honestly, Sam. That’s disgusting.”
“Well, you gotta figure the devil’s dick is pretty hot due to the neighborhood he hangs in, right?”
He rolled his eyes and held up the yellow crime-scene tape for her. Patrol had taped off the Anacostia Riverwalk Trail to keep the gawkers away.
The closer they got to the river’s edge, the more Sam began to regret the open-toe sandals she’d worn in deference to the oppressive July heat. The squish of Anacostia River mud between her toes was almost as gross as the smell of the river itself. She had her shoulder-length hair up in a clip that left her neck exposed to the merciless sun.
Tactical Response teams had boats on the scene, and from her vantage point on the riverbank Sam could see the red ponytail belonging to the Chief Medical Examiner, Dr. Lindsey McNamara. She was too far out for Sam to yell to her for an update.
“Let’s talk to the guy who called it in,” she said to Freddie.
They traipsed back the way they’d come, with Sam trying to ignore the disgusting mud between her toes. Officer Beckett worked the tapeline at the northern end of the area they’d cordoned off. He nodded at them. “Afternoon, Lieutenant. Lovely day to spend by the river.”
“Indeed. I would’ve packed a picnic had I known we were coming. Where’s the guy who called it in?”
“Over there with EMS.” Beckett pointed to a cluster of people taking advantage of the shade under a huge oak tree. “He was hysterical when he realized the blob was a body.”
“Did you get a name?”
Beckett consulted his notebook. “Mike Lonergan. He works at the Navy Yard and runs out here every day at noon.” He tore out the page that had Lonergan’s full name, address and cell phone number written on it and gave it to Sam.
“Good work, Beckett. Thanks. Keep everyone out of here until we know whether or not this is a crime scene.”
“Yes, ma’am. Will do.”
“Why would anyone run out here during the hottest part of the day?” Sam asked Freddie as they made their way to where Lonergan was being seen to by the paramedics.
“For something called exercise, I’d imagine.”
“When did you become such a smart-ass? You used to be such a nice Christian boy.”
“Things began to go south for me when I got assigned to a smart-ass lieutenant who’s been a terrible influence on my sweet, young mind.”
“Right.” Amused by him as always, Sam drew out the single word for effect. “You were easily led.” She approached the paramedics who were hovering over Lonergan. “We’d like a word with Mr. Lonergan,” she said to the one who seemed to be in charge.
He used a hand motion to tell his team to allow her and Freddie in. The witness wore a tank top, running shorts and high-tech running shoes. Sam put him at midthirties.
“Mr. Lonergan, I’m Lieutenant Holland—”
“I know who you are.” His shoulders were wrapped in one of those foil thingies that runners used to keep from dehydrating or overheating or something like that. What did she know about such things? She got most of her exercise having wild sex with her husband. Except for recently, thus her foul mood.
Lonergan’s dark blond hair was wet with perspiration. His brown eyes were big and haunted as he looked up at them.
“Can you tell us what you saw?” Ever since she’d taken down a killer at the inaugural parade, she was recognized everywhere she went. She hated that and yearned for the days when no one recognized her. But that ship had sailed the minute her sexy young husband became the nation’s vice president late last year. Her blown cover was entirely his fault, and she liked to remind him of that every chance she got.
“I was running on the trail like I do every day, and when I came around that bend there, I saw something in the water.” He took a drink from a bottle of water, and Sam took note of the slight tremble in his hand. “At first I thought it was a garbage bag, but when I looked closer, I saw a hand.” He shuddered. “That’s when I called 911.”
“How far out was it?” Sam asked.
“About twenty feet from the bank of the river.”
“Was there anything else you could tell us about the body?”
“I think it’s a woman.”
“Why do you say that?” Freddie asked.
“There was hair.” Lonergan took another drink of water. “Once I realized what I was looking at, I could see long hair fanned out around the head.” He looked up at them. “Do you think it’s that student who went missing?”
Sam made sure her expression gave nothing away. “We’d have no way to know that at this point.” The entire Metro PD had been searching for nineteen-year-old Ruby Denton for more than two weeks. She’d come to the District to take summer classes at Capitol University and hadn’t been seen since her first night on campus. The story had garnered national attention thanks in large part to the efforts of her family in Kentucky.
“I bet it’s her,” Lonergan said.
“Do me a favor and keep that thought to yourself for now. No sense upsetting the family before we know anything for certain.”
“That’s true.”
Sam handed him her card. “If you think of anything else, let me know.”
“I will.” After a pause, he said, “I was out here yesterday, and she wasn’t there. I would’ve noticed if she’d been there.”
“That’s good to know. Thanks for your help.”
“It’s sad, you know? For someone to end up like that.”
“Yes, it is.” She stepped away from him to confer with the paramedic in charge. “Is he okay?”
“Yeah, he’s in shock. He’ll be fine. You think it’s Ruby Denton?”
“I’ll tell you the same thing I just told him—we have no way to know until Dr. McNamara gets the body back to the lab. Until then, we’d be speculating, and that sort of thing only makes a hellish situation worse for a family looking for their daughter. Ask your people to keep their mouths shut.”
“Yes, ma’am. No one will hear anything from my team.”
“Thank you.”
“What’s going on over there?” Freddie asked, drawing Sam’s attention to the tapeline, where Beckett was arguing with a bunch of suits.
“Let’s go find out.”
They walked back the way they’d come, along the trail to where Beckett held his own against four men in suits with reflective glasses and attitudes that immediately identified them as federal agents.
“What’s the problem, gentlemen?” Sam asked.
“There she is,” one of them said in a low growl that immediately raised Sam’s hackles.
“Let us in,” another one said. “Right now.”
“I’m not letting you in until you tell me what you want,” Beckett said. “This is a potential crime scene—”
“We need to speak to Mrs. Cappuano.” The one who seemed to be in charge of the Fed squad took another step forward. “It’s urgent.”
Sam’s heart dropped to her belly and for a brief, horrifying second she feared her legs would give out under her. Nick... Why would federal agents have tracked her down at a crime scene in the middle of her workday unless something had happened to him?
Please no.
Sam immediately began bargaining with a higher power she didn’t believe in. She’d give up anything, anything in this world except Scotty, if it would keep the man in front of her from saying words that could never be unsaid or unheard.
Only Freddie’s arm around her shoulders kept her from buckling in the few seconds it took for Sam to recover herself enough to speak. “What do you want with me?”
“We need you to come with us, ma’am.”
“That’s not happening until you tell us who you are and what you want,” Freddie said.
In unison they flashed four federal badges.
“United States Secret Service,” the one in charge said. “We need you to come with us, ma’am.”
Sam didn’t recognize any of them. Why would she? Nick’s detail was in Iran, and Scotty’s was with him. “I... I’m working here. I can’t...” Bile burned her throat as her lunch threatened to reappear. With her heart beating so hard she could hear the echo of it strumming in her ears, she somehow managed to choke back the nausea. Later she’d be thankful she hadn’t puked on the agents’ shoes. Right now, however, she couldn’t think about anything other than Nick. “Has something happened to my husband?”
Freddie tightened his grip on her shoulder, letting her know his thoughts mirrored hers. That didn’t do much to comfort her.
Looking down at her with a stone-faced glare, the agent said, “We’re under orders to bring you in. We’re not at liberty to discuss the particulars with you at this time.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Freddie asked. “You can’t just take her. She’s not under Secret Service protection, and she’s working.”
“I’m afraid we can take her, and we will, by force if necessary.”
“What the fuck?” Beckett spoke for all of them. At some point he’d moved to the other side of her.
Like someone flipped a switch, they moved with military precision, busting through the tapeline, grabbing hold of her arms and quickly extracting her before her stunned colleagues could react. Sam fought them, but she was no match for four huge, muscled, well-dressed men who whisked her away with frightening efficiency.
In the background, she could hear Freddie and Beckett screaming, swearing—at least Beckett was—and giving chase, but they, too, were no match for this group. Before she knew what hit her, she was inside the cool darkness of one in the Secret Service’s endless fleet of black SUVs, the doors locking with a sound that echoed like a shotgun blast.
“Move,” the agent in charge ordered.
The car lurched forward just as Freddie and Beckett reached it. Freddie pounded once against the side window with a closed fist before the car pulled out of his reach.
Sam watched the scene unfold around her with a detached feeling of shock and fear. Something awful must’ve happened. That was the only possible reason for this dramatic scene. She was far too afraid for Nick to work up the fury she’d normally feel at being kidnapped by federal agents. Her hands were shaking, and her entire body was covered in cold chills.
If Nick had been harmed in some way or if he was... No, no, no, not going there. If he was hurt, what did it matter if Secret Service agents had grabbed her? What would anything matter?
She bit back the overwhelming fear and forced herself to focus. “Would someone please tell me what’s going on here?”
CHAPTER TWO (#u3e246bd7-aa16-5261-8947-fcb0bbd09212)
NO ONE SAID a word.
Silence had never felt heavier or more oppressive. Why wouldn’t they tell her what was wrong? Out the front windshield she noticed several other black SUVs had joined their caravan. They moved with stealthy speed, emergency lights flashing as they flew through notoriously clogged District streets. Drivers who regularly ignored police sirens got the fuck out of the way for the Secret Service.
While trying to control her galloping heart and frantic need to know what was happening, she made herself watch the world go by outside the car, trying to figure out where they were taking her. When they hung a left, she realized they weren’t going to her home.
How did she even know these guys were actually with the Secret Service? What if terrorists pretending to be federal agents had kidnapped her?
“I want to see your badges. Up close. Right now.”
The one sitting closest to her handed his over.
Sam studied it carefully. Thomas J. Jackson, United States Secret Service. The badge seemed legit. She gave the others the same scrutiny, noting the one in charge was named Daniel Cooley. “What do you want with me?”
“We’ll brief you fully when we arrive at our destination,” Jackson said.
“Which is where?”
“We’re not at liberty to share that information.”
“Tell me one thing.” She swallowed the largest ball of fear that had ever lodged in any throat ever and forced herself to ask the most unimaginable question of her life. “Is my husband dead?”
Jackson, bless his heart, took mercy on her. “No, ma’am.”
Sam rested her head back against the seat, closed her eyes and released the breath she’d been holding from the second she realized the Secret Service had come for her. Adrenaline coursed through her system, making her feel amped and drained at the same time. “And my son?”
“He’s fine.”
She’d never been more afraid at any time in her life than she’d been in the last ten minutes, and it would be perfectly all right with her if she never felt that way again—ever. Then it dawned on her that Jackson had said Nick wasn’t dead. He hadn’t said he was fine either. Was he hurt? Clinging to life? Taken hostage? Being held for ransom? On a flight that’d been hijacked?
One after another, the scenarios went through her mind, each more horrifying than the last. What if... Oh God, I can’t even... I just can’t.
They drove for quite some time before the driver took an abrupt right onto a ramp that descended into what looked like a parking garage. The car stopped in front of a security door that rose to admit them, and the car lurched forward into darkness.
Sam spun around in her seat to watch the door close behind them. What the actual fuck was happening? And where the fuck was she?
The door next to her opened, and one of the agents held out a hand, as if to help her from the car. “Right this way, ma’am.”
She ignored his hand and got out on her own, hoping there’d be some answers at the other end of “right this way.” All four agents surrounded her as they traveled down a long corridor that ended at a closed door.
Cooley punched in a code on a keypad next to the door, and it slid open to reveal another dark room. Sam blinked several times, her eyes protesting the darkness after the bright sunshine outside.
“Ma’am?” He gestured for her to go in ahead of them.
She didn’t want to go in there. Every instinct was telling her not to step forward, to run away, but she knew they’d never let her escape. This was reminding her far too much of the march down the stairs into hell in Marissa Springer’s basement.
“Wh-what is this place?” Sam hated the hitch in her voice that made her sound nervous.
“It’s a secure facility,” Cooley said. “You’ll be safe here.”
“How do I know that?”
“You have to trust us.”
“Why should I trust you? I’ve never laid eyes on any of you before you showed up at my crime scene and basically snatched me without any information as to why I was being snatched. You’ll have to pardon me if I’m currently running a little low on trust.”
“I understand how you must feel, Mrs.—”
“Do you? Do you really? Is your husband the vice president of the United States? Is he protected by the agency that just snatched me from a crime scene for no reason that I’ve been made aware of? Is he in Iran, a country not exactly known for its hospitality toward Americans? Do you not know if your husband is injured or worse? If you can’t answer yes to any of those questions, then you actually have no fucking idea how I must feel!”
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I don’t know how you feel, but if you’d please come with us, I assure you that everything will be explained in due time.”
“Due time,” she said with a bitchy-sounding snort. “Is that agency speak for ‘when we get around to it’?”
“We’ll brief you as soon as we’re authorized to do so.”
Sam was about to give in and go into the room when she heard a shout from behind her.
“Mom!”
She spun around to see Scotty heading toward her, surrounded by his Secret Service detail. The sight of the familiar agents was welcome proof that the four who’d snatched her were legit. Her son ran into her outstretched arms.
“What’s going on?” he asked. His dark hair was damp with sweat, and his face was flushed from being outside at camp. He was wearing an orange camp T-shirt, a Feds cap and his baseball cleats.
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly, “but I’m told we’re going to be briefed soon.”
“Is it Dad? Has something happened?”
“I’m not sure. They told me he’s alive, but they haven’t said anything more than that.”
That he visibly crumpled at the news Nick was alive let her know how afraid he’d been, and for that alone, she’d never forgive the Secret Service for this stunt. It was one thing to scare the hell out of her. It was another thing altogether for them to scare the hell out of her kid. As soon as she found out what the fuck was going on, heads were going to roll.
“If you would.” Cooley again gestured to the room on the other side of the steel door.
Sam took Scotty by the hand and led him into the huge space, where there were comfortable-looking sofas, tables with books and magazines neatly arranged, and a counter with snacks and drinks on ice.
“If there’s anything in particular you need,” Cooley said, “please let one of my people know. We’ll do anything we can to ensure your comfort.”
“When will this briefing I was promised happen?”
“Shortly.”
Sensing that was the best answer she was going to get, Sam led Scotty to one of the sofas. “Let me see your phone,” she said to him when they were seated together.
While the agents conferred with each other in hushed voices, Scotty handed over his smartphone.
Sam pressed the big button and waited for it to come to life. “How do I get to the internet on this thing?”
Scotty took it back and pressed a few buttons. “That’s weird. Nothing is happening.”
“There’s no service down here,” Jackson said.
Sam blew out a deep breath full of frustration and anxiety. This was bringing back far too many unpleasant memories of being trapped in Marissa Springer’s basement, at the mercy of Lieutenant Stahl as he tortured her. Sam’s chest felt tight with growing anxiety, and she couldn’t stay seated on the sofa. She got up to pace the length of the room, examining it more thoroughly.
The walls were made of reinforced concrete and the only way in or out, that she could see, was through the secure door they’d used to enter the space. When she felt herself beginning to hyperventilate, she focused on breathing in a steady rhythm that helped to keep the panic at bay.
A low hum and a clicking noise preceded the door sliding open again.
Sam’s mouth fell open in shock when her sister Tracy was escorted in. She wore a black cape over her clothing, and her hair was full of foil packets.
“Oh my God, Sam! What the hell is this? They took me right out of the chair at the salon!”
“I wish I knew. I was grabbed from a crime scene.”
“I was on deck at camp,” Scotty said. “I missed my chance to bat.”
“So they haven’t told you anything?” Tracy asked.
“Nothing other than Nick isn’t dead.”
“You really thought he was?” Scotty asked.
Sam put her arm around him. “I didn’t know what to think when they showed up at a crime scene. I asked them straight-out if he was dead, and they said he isn’t.”
“Jesus,” Tracy muttered. “How long are they going to hold us here?”
“I have no idea. They said I’ll be briefed shortly. That’s all I know.”
A low hum and then a click had them turning toward the door as it opened to admit Sam’s other sister, Angela, her two young children, Jack and Ella, and Alex, the infant son of Sam’s colleague Sergeant Tommy “Gonzo” Gonzales. Angela babysat Alex.
Ella and Alex were crying as Angela and one of the harried-looking agents carried them into the room.
“Where are we?” Angela asked. “What’s happening?”
“No one knows,” Tracy answered as she scooped up her shell-shocked nephew Jack.
Jack wrinkled his nose. “You stink, Auntie.”
“That’s because my hair is now officially overprocessed, buddy, and it’ll probably be purple after all this.”
“Cool purple hair.”
“Glad you think so,” Tracy said. “Do you suppose they’re rounding up my family too?”
Her question was answered by the hum and click of the door opening again to admit her daughter, Brooke, who was dressed in the uniform of the restaurant where she waitressed. Two agents had her by the arms as Brooke fought them every step of the way. When she saw her mother and aunts in the room, she stopped struggling and burst into tears.
Tracy handed Jack to Sam and went to hug her daughter. “Easy, honey. It’s okay. We’re right here.”
“I was s-so scared,” Brooke said between sobs. “I didn’t know why they were taking me. I thought it was happening again.”
Sam wanted to kill someone for putting Brooke through such an ordeal when she was only beginning to truly recover from being drugged and gang-raped at a party last winter. Whoever ordered this operation would live to regret it by the time Sam was finished with them.
Over the next half hour, the door opened repeatedly as the rest of the family arrived. Sam’s dad, Skip, used his one working index finger to roll his wheelchair into the room with his wife, Celia, by his side. Tracy’s husband, Mike, and their younger children, Abby and Ethan. Nick’s father, Leo, his wife, Stacy, and their six-year-old twin boys. The last to arrive were Nick’s adopted parents, retired Senator Graham O’Connor and his wife, Laine, both of whom were rattled and undone by the ordeal.
The agents produced toys and games for the kids, who went to check out the offerings while the adults speculated as to what might’ve happened to result in them being plucked out of their lives and brought to this underground bunker.
“Whatever it is,” Skip said, “it must be huge to warrant something like this.”
Her father’s comment didn’t help to calm Sam’s out-of-control nerves. The only person missing from this family reunion was the one she most needed to see, to touch, to ensure he was okay. Until she knew for certain that he hadn’t been harmed, she wouldn’t be able to function normally.
The lack of information was the worst part. They were completely sealed off from the outside world with no earthly idea what had prompted the Secret Service to gather up people who weren’t even under their protection.
Tracy came over to Sam, who stood by herself, trying to think it through as a detective and coming up empty.
“Are you okay?” Tracy asked. At some point she’d removed the foils from her hair, which was sticking up at awkward angles that would’ve made Sam laugh under normal circumstances.
“I’m freaking out and have a million questions. Where’s Nick? Is he okay? Why won’t they tell me anything? Who ordered that everyone be brought here? What is this place?”
“I know it’s hard not to go to the worst-case scenario, but if something had happened to him, surely it would’ve made the news before the dragnet swooped in, right?”
“I suppose, but who knows for sure with him in freaking Iran? Well, they know, but they’re not telling me anything!” She intentionally raised her voice so the agents huddled together at the far end of the huge room would hear her. Not that they gave a shit. In a quieter tone, she said, “I’m losing my mind, Trace.”
Tracy put her arm around Sam and led her to one of the sofas, where they sat together, Sam leaning her head on her older sister’s shoulder the way she had all her life when she needed comfort. Tracy was always there for her, and now was no different.
With baby Ella in her arms, Angela joined them, sitting on the other side of Sam. “I hope they thought to get diapers, because they didn’t give me time to get anything, and this little girl is going to need a change before too much longer.”
“What did they say when they came to your house?” Sam asked.
“Just that they were with the Secret Service, that there was a ‘situation’ and the children and I needed to come with them.”
“A situation,” Sam said. “That’s more info than I’ve been given.”
“What about Spencer?” Angela asked about her husband. “He’s in Philadelphia today for work.”
“I’m sure they’re aware of his whereabouts, but I’ll ask when I get the chance,” Sam said.
“I’m worried about Gonzo and Christina not being able to reach me when they want to pick up Alex,” Angela said. “Someone needs to tell them what’s going on.”
“Someone needs to tell us what’s going on.” She stood and marched over to the group of agents. “I want to be briefed. Right now.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Cooley said, surprising her with his easy capitulation. “Right this way.”
Sam took a tentative look over her shoulder, caught Tracy’s eye and nodded toward Scotty, asking her sister to keep an eye on her son. He’d been unusually quiet as they waited to find out what was happening.
Tracy nodded in understanding and slipped an arm around Scotty’s shoulders.
The last thing Sam saw before she entered an adjoining room with the agents was Scotty smiling at whatever Tracy had said to him.
Sam’s stomach knotted in fear, and her hands were suddenly sweaty. What would they tell her, and how would it change her life? Please...whatever it is, please let Nick be okay. Sam could handle anything they had to say as long as her beloved husband hadn’t been harmed.
When they were seated around a large conference table, Cooley began by offering Sam something to drink.
“Water would be good.”
Cooley brought her a plastic cup filled with cold water.
As she took a drink, she realized how dry her mouth and throat were. Fear did that to a person.
“On behalf of the United States Secret Service, I apologize for the inconvenience to you, your son and your family members,” Cooley said. “At eleven twenty this morning, the Secret Service was provided with information that specified a credible threat against the vice president and his family.”
“Wh-what kind of threat?”
“We’re still in the early stages of our investigation. We hope to know more in the next few hours.”
“Where’s my husband?”
“He’s on his way home and due to land at Andrews at twenty hundred hours.”
Sam checked her watch. Six hours. He’d be home in six hours. Thank you, God. “When can I see him?”
“He’ll be brought here as soon as his plane lands.”
“What is this place?”
“It’s one of several secure sites kept by the Secret Service throughout the metropolitan DC area for instances such as this when we receive a credible threat against the president, the vice president or a member of their immediate family.”
“How long do we have to stay here?”
“We don’t know that yet.”
“Are we talking a day, a week, a month?”
“That I don’t know.”
She threw up her hands in outrage. “You can’t just hold us here against our will!”
“I’m afraid we can.”
“On whose order?”
“The vice president’s, ma’am.”
“Nick approved the plan for you to pick us all up?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“So he knows what the threat was?”
“He does, ma’am.”
Sam tried to process that information, but her brain was unable to wrap itself around what kind of threat must’ve been levied against their family for Nick to order such dramatic measures be taken to protect them. “My brother-in-law Spencer—”
“Is en route from Philadelphia as we speak, ma’am.”
Angela would be glad to hear that. “My sister watches my colleague’s child. The boy was with her when you brought them in. The parents need to be notified as to the whereabouts of their child.”
“We can take care of that for you if you give us the contact info.”
“Could he be returned to his parents? He’s not a member of our immediate family.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible. Everyone who’s here is required to stay for the time being.”
“Why? What possible reason could you have for keeping my colleague’s child here? There’s been no threat made against him.”
“We’re under orders, ma’am. I’m sure you understand the position we’re in.”
As a law enforcement officer herself, Sam was able to connect the dots with what he wasn’t saying. She blew out a deep breath, imagining Gonzo and Christina getting word that Alex was being held in a secure facility along with the entire Cappuano and Holland families. At least they’d know he was safe and well cared for with them, for as much comfort as that would provide.
She wrote Gonzo’s name and cell phone number on the pad they provided and pushed it across the table.
“We’ll take care of that for you, ma’am.”
“You can stop calling me ‘ma’am.’”
“My apologies, Mrs. Cappuano.”
“What can I tell my family?”
“Exactly what we’ve told you.”
“We have jobs and obligations and places we need to be.”
“No one will be leaving until we’ve neutralized the threat or until we are authorized by the vice president.”
“You can’t hold us here against our will.” Sam gave him her trademark death stare, the one that made seasoned criminals tremble like babies in the interrogation room. Unfortunately, it had no impact whatsoever on Secret Service Agent Daniel Cooley.
“I’m afraid we can.”
“What’s being done to neutralize the threat?”
“Everything possible.”
That was, Sam realized, as much as he was going to tell her until Nick arrived to fill in the blanks. She got up and headed toward the closed door that sealed her off from just about everyone she loved. “Let me out.”
The door slid open soundlessly, admitting her to the big room where the others were scattered about on sofas and chairs, waiting. They sat up a little taller when they saw Sam come in.
Scotty rushed over to her, his distress obvious. “What’d they say, Mom?”
She put an arm around him, hating the worry she saw in his expression. “Dad is fine. He’s on his way home from Iran and due to land at Andrews around eight. He’ll be brought right here when he arrives.”
“Did they say why they rounded us up like cattle?” Skip asked, nudging his wheelchair closer to her.
“All they would say is that they received a credible threat against the vice president and his family. Apparently, Nick authorized them to round us up out of an abundance of caution. Anyone who might be watching us knows what you guys mean to us and what it would do to us if something happened to any of you.”
“What about Spence?” Angela said, sounding as fearful as Sam had felt before she knew where Nick was.
“He’s on his way here with a Secret Service detail.”
“Oh, good,” Angela said on a long exhale. “That’s good.”
“They’re also notifying Gonzo as to where Alex is.”
“One thing I’ll add,” Graham O’Connor said, “is that whatever this is, it scared the hell out of them or we wouldn’t be here. I used to sit on the committee that oversees the Secret Service, and they don’t do anything without a damned good reason.”
Celia ran her hands up and down her arms as if chilled. “What’re we supposed to do in the meantime?”
“We wait,” Sam said. “That’s all we can do.”
CHAPTER THREE (#u3e246bd7-aa16-5261-8947-fcb0bbd09212)
“RUN THROUGH IT again for me, from the top,” Chief Farnsworth said to Freddie and Beckett, who’d been summoned to his office upon their return to headquarters.
“Sam and I were working the scene,” Freddie said, “trying to determine whether or not we were dealing with a homicide, when we saw Beckett arguing with four suits that we immediately identified as federal agents. We went over to see what was going on and to help Beckett.”
“They were demanding I allow them in because they urgently needed to speak to Mrs. Cappuano,” Beckett said.
“They called her that?” Farnsworth asked, rubbing his chin.
“Yes, sir,” Freddie said, still trying to process what’d happened.
“Then what?”
“The lieutenant and Detective Cruz approached the tapeline to see what was going on, and the agents busted through the tape and took her. They carted her off to a waiting SUV and were pulling away before we could catch up to them.”
“We tried,” Freddie said, still gutted that she’d been taken when he was standing right there, unable to do a thing to stop it. “But they moved with lightning speed to get her out of there.”
“One of the SUVs stayed back to make sure we couldn’t follow them,” Beckett added. “He blocked the road to keep us from leaving in cars.”
“And you’re sure they were actually federal agents?” Farnsworth asked.
Freddie’s gut clenched with anxiety. “That’s the thing, sir. They said they were Secret Service and flashed their badges, but I couldn’t get a close enough look at them before they were grabbing her and taking off. The whole thing happened so fast.” He’d have nightmares about how easily she’d been plucked out of his grasp and the way he’d frozen with indecision, as if he weren’t a highly trained police officer. “I didn’t know what to do. If I pulled a weapon on them and they were actually federal agents, that’d be a disaster. But I just keep asking myself, what if they weren’t federal agents? What if she’s been kidnapped?”
“She hasn’t been,” Gonzo said as he joined them in the chief’s office. “I just got a phone call from an Agent Dan Cooley, who is the Secret Service agent in charge of the detail that was sent to retrieve the lieutenant. I did a run on him. He’s legit.”
“Why did he call you?” Freddie asked.
“Because they’ve gathered up the entire Holland and Cappuano family and taken them to a safe location. My son was with Angela when they picked her up, so he’s with them, and they wanted me to know.”
“Where are they?”
“He couldn’t tell me anything other than they are safe and under protection of the United States government.”
“What the hell?” Freddie asked. “How long are they going to keep them in this safe place?”
“He wouldn’t tell me that either.”
They all looked to the chief for answers he didn’t have. “Do we know the whereabouts of the vice president?”
“I poked around online,” Gonzo said, “and the most recent mention I could find was a formal dinner he attended yesterday in Iran, which was covered by a White House pool reporter. There’s been no mention of him since.”
“I suppose no news is good news,” Farnsworth said. “If something had happened to him, we would’ve heard about it by now.”
“I suppose so,” Freddie said, “but clearly something is going on with him that has the Secret Service in full-on freak-out mode.”
“Let’s do a little digging to see if we can find anything online and get Archie’s team involved,” Farnsworth said, referring to Lieutenant Archelotta’s IT squad.
“I’ll take care of that, sir,” Gonzo said.
“What’re we thinking about the floater in the river? Is it Ruby Denton?”
“We’re waiting for Dr. McNamara to make a positive ID,” Gonzo said. “We’ll know more in the next few hours.”
“Let’s get out there and work that case,” Farnsworth said. “CSU is doing a grid search now, but let’s treat it like a homicide until we know it isn’t.”
“Yes, sir,” Gonzo said for all of them.
They left the chief’s office and returned to the detectives’ pit, passing other officers who gave them quizzical looks. Apparently the word was out about Lieutenant Holland being snatched from a crime scene by Secret Service agents.
“I thought she wasn’t under their protection,” Beckett said, keeping his voice down.
“She isn’t,” Gonzo said, “but from what the agent in charge told me, they received a threat against the vice president and his family, so Nick authorized them to bring everyone in.”
“Wow,” Beckett said. “What kind of threat would lead to that?”
“Could be anything,” Freddie said. “No sense speculating at this point. I’m sure it’ll be all over the news before too long.”
“Nothing has been released yet,” Gonzo said. “I checked.” His phone rang, and he checked the caller ID. “It’s Chris. I’ve got to take this and tell her our kid is under Secret Service protection.”
“Good luck with that,” Freddie said.
Gonzo walked away from them to take the call.
“This is seriously effed up,” Beckett said.
“Yeah, it is, but she’d want us to focus on working the floater case, so that’s what we’re going to do,” Freddie said. Though he was still rattled and furious about the scene at the river, Sam would want them to do their jobs and not worry about her. She’d say she could take care of herself, but after what happened in that basement with Stahl and Marissa Springer, he hoped that wherever she was, it wasn’t sparking memories of that grim episode.
Gonzo’s raised voice caught Freddie’s attention. “I don’t know how long, babe,” Gonzo said. “All I know is what the agent in charge told me.” After a pause, he added, “No, they wouldn’t release him. They’re under orders to keep everyone in the safe location for the time being. He’ll be fine, Chris—of course he will. He’s with Angela, Sam and Tracy. They won’t let anything happen to him.” Gonzo sighed deeply. “Of course I don’t like it, but what am I supposed to do about it? I have no idea where the safe location is, and even if I did, I wouldn’t be able to get in there.” He paused. “Yes, honey, of course I will. Try not to worry. He’s with people who love him. Okay. I love you too.” After he ended the call, he sat at his desk, head in his hands.
“She’s not happy, huh?” Freddie asked.
“That’s putting it mildly. She’s hysterical.”
“Do you need to go home?”
“Nah, I can’t leave with the LT God knows where and a floater to contend with.”
“I could hold down the fort if you need to go check on her.”
“I’ll call her back in a little while to make sure she’s okay. In the meantime, since we’re both without partners for the rest of our shift, let’s go see what Lindsey has found out about our body.”
Freddie took note of the casual way Gonzo said he was without a partner. Since Detective Arnold was killed over the winter, Gonzo had been working on his own or with Freddie and Sam. The department had yet to fill the vacancy in their squad that Arnold’s death had created, which was fine with Freddie. He couldn’t conceive of anyone else sitting in Arnold’s cubicle and didn’t want to think about the day, probably in the not-too-distant future, when they’d have to accept a new person into their group.
Freddie didn’t like change, especially the kind of change that resulted from one of his closest colleagues being murdered.
“You okay?” Gonzo asked as they walked together to the morgue at the other end of the headquarters building.
“Yeah. I was just thinking about Arnold, actually.” He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake by mentioning Gonzo’s late partner. Only in the last month or two had Gonzo seemed more like his old self again, after watching his partner be gunned down right next to him and slipping deep into grief in the aftermath.
“What about him?”
“Just about who they might get to fill his spot.”
“No idea.”
“I hope it doesn’t happen soon. I don’t want to see someone else in his cube.”
“Gonna happen eventually.”
“I hope eventually is in the far-off future.”
Gonzo had nothing to say to that, but then, he didn’t say much about Arnold these days. Despite his silence on the matter, Freddie knew Gonzo’s late partner was never far from his mind.
They entered the morgue, where an antiseptic scent greeted them.
“This is gonna be bad,” Gonzo said. “You ready for that?”
Freddie’s stomach turned. This was one of the worst parts of a difficult job. “As ready as I ever am.”
“What’ve you got, Doc?” Gonzo asked as they entered the sterile room where Lindsey and her deputy, Byron Tomlinson, were examining the body—or what was left of it.
Freddie choked back a wave of nausea when he got his first look at the bloated lump of flesh that had once been a human being. The only thing about the body that still looked human was a knotted, slimy clump of long hair.
“Female, approximately eighteen to twenty-five,” Lindsey replied.
“How long was she in the water?”
“I’m estimating seven to ten days.”
“Which would fit the time period that Ruby Denton has been missing,” Freddie said.
“We’ll need dental records to confirm the identity,” Lindsey said. “But one thing I can tell you is whoever she is, she was well cared for at one time in her life.”
“How can you tell?” As far as Freddie could tell, she was a lump of decomposing flesh.
“Her teeth are gorgeous. Probably had orthodontics.”
For some reason, that detail made Freddie unreasonably sad for the parents who’d soon hear their child was in the morgue.
“Is there anything else you can tell us?” Gonzo asked.
“I can’t be sure, but there’re possible ligature marks here.” Lindsey pointed to the neck area.
“So she might’ve been strangled.”
“It’s a theory.”
“That and the teeth are more than we had ten minutes ago,” Gonzo said. “Keep us posted on the ID.”
“Can you see about getting me Ruby’s dental records?”
Freddie’s stomach turned again at the thought of asking her parents for such a thing.
“Yeah,” Gonzo said. “We’ll take care of it.”
“What’s the plan?” Freddie asked on the walk from the morgue back to the pit.
“Let’s talk to Ruby’s parents.” Gonzo checked his watch. “And then we can call it a day.”
As they went into the pit, Detectives Jeannie McBride and Will Tyrone were returning from a call.
“What’ve you got?” Gonzo asked them.
“A double suicide,” Jeannie said.
“You’re sure that’s what it was?” Gonzo asked.
“There was a note.” Jeannie handed it over to Gonzo, and Freddie moved in for a closer look.
I’m sorry it has come to this. Our financial problems have gotten to the point where we’re going to lose the house. Please take care of our kids. They don’t deserve any of this.
“Aw, damn,” Freddie said. “How old are the kids?”
“They’re both in college,” Jeannie said. “The father’s brother is taking care of notifying them. He told us the husband lost his job two years ago, and his benefits were running out. They couldn’t pay the mortgage and the bank was going to take their house. The last time he saw his brother, they talked about him declaring bankruptcy to get out from under the mortgage. He said the brother was worried about how they’d eat and where they’d live.”
“It’s so sad,” Will added, “that they felt they had no other options.”
“How’d they do it?” Gonzo asked.
“Pills,” Jeannie said. “The empty bottles were on the bed between them. His brother told us he’d had back surgery last year, and they used the leftover narcotics to OD. They were found holding hands.”
“Take care of the paperwork,” Gonzo said, “and call it a day.”
“Where’s Sam?” Jeannie asked. “We’re supposed to go to our last dress fitting together.”
Freddie glanced at Gonzo. “Um, well, there’s been a situation.”
“What kind of situation?”
Freddie took them through the sequence of events that’d happened earlier, ending with the phone call Gonzo had received about Alex from the Secret Service.
Jeannie shook her head in disbelief. “Wait... So what you’re saying...”
“Someone has made a threat against their family, so the Secret Service has them all under protection.”
“Where?”
“We don’t know.”
“What was the threat?”
“We don’t know that either.”
“How long—”
“We don’t know anything more than what we’ve told you, Jeannie,” Gonzo said. “Believe me, I want to know how long they’re going to hold my son, and I can’t get even that much out of them.”
“It must’ve been bad if they took everyone, even her sisters.”
“We’re working under that assumption.”
“I feel like a selfish jerk for worrying about my wedding at a time like this when something much bigger is going on, but what’ll I do if she can’t be there?”
“I doubt whatever this is will go on for more than a week,” Gonzo said. “If it does, I’ll be losing my mind, so we can lose our minds together.”
“I’m sorry,” Jeannie said. “I don’t mean to make it about me when your child is being held somewhere, and you have no idea where he is. That’s way worse.”
“The whole thing sucks,” Gonzo said. “Imagine what it’s like for the Secret Service agents who’re stuck with Sam.”
That made them all laugh and relieved some of their tension, although Freddie could tell that Jeannie was still freaked out. After having been held by a psycho last year, she’d be hit harder than most by this latest development. Will must’ve been having the same thought because he squeezed Jeannie’s shoulder in support.
“Try not to worry,” Gonzo said. “At least we know she’s in good hands and being kept safe from whatever’s happening.”
“There is that,” Jeannie said.
“I’ll take care of the reports,” Will said. “Go on ahead to your fitting.”
“Are you sure?” Jeannie asked her partner.
“Positive. You’ve got better stuff to do.”
Jeannie glanced apprehensively at Sam’s dark office before she nodded to him. “Thank you. You’ll let me know if you hear any more about Sam and Nick?”
“We will,” Gonzo said.
“Okay, then. I’ll see you guys in the morning.”
After she left, Gonzo said, “I’m going to check on Chris, and then we can go talk to Ruby’s parents. Give me five.”
“You got it.” Freddie went to his cubicle and tried to wrap his mind around what’d transpired out at the river. He had to put his observations into a narrative that would make sense on a report, when none of it made sense to him. Beckett had emailed his contributions, which Freddie would combine with his own. He could hear Gonzo still on the phone with Christina in the LT’s office, so he called upstairs to Lieutenant Archelotta.
“Hey, it’s Cruz,” Freddie said when Archie picked up his extension. “Just checking to see if you’ve picked up anything about the threat to the lieutenant’s family.”
“Not a thing. I’ve got people digging deep and we’re coming up empty.”
“What the hell? How can there be a threat that’d warrant the family being collected dragnet-style and there be no sign of it anywhere online or in any of the usual places?”
“I have no idea, but whatever it is, it must’ve been hard-core for the Secret Service to react this way.”
“Is it weird that you can’t find any mention of a threat?”
“A little. What’re you thinking?”
“I keep reliving the fear that the people who took her aren’t really Secret Service agents.”
“You didn’t see their badges?”
“I did but I didn’t get close enough to really examine them.”
“You really think it’s possible they were fake?”
“Not anymore. They contacted Gonzo to let him know they have his son because he was with Sam’s sister Angela, and we think that means they’re legit. The whole thing happened so fast, and it was so weird the way they showed up at a crime scene and just took her. How did they know where we were? She’s not under any kind of protection.”
“It is bizarre. Do you think they keep tabs on her even though she’s not officially under their protection?”
“If they do, that’d be news to me—and to her too, I suspect.”
“The whole thing is crazy,” Archie said. “I’ll give you that.”
“Let me know if you pick up any chatter about her or Nick.”
“I will. For sure.”
“Thanks, Archie.”
Gonzo came out of the office, shut the door and locked it. “Let’s get this over with.”
Dreading the thought of seeing Ruby Denton’s parents to ask them for dental records, Freddie got up and followed Gonzo out of the pit.
* * *
AFTER GETTING THE INFO on where to find Ruby’s parents from the Missing Persons squad overseeing their daughter’s case, Gonzo and Freddie headed for the city’s northeast corner. With that entire squad out pursuing leads in Ruby’s case, this dreadful task fell to them.
“I hate shit like this,” Gonzo muttered while they fought late-afternoon traffic.
“Me too. How does anyone cope with not knowing where their kid is?” As soon as he said that, Freddie felt bad because Gonzo didn’t currently know where his kid was. At least he knew the little guy was safe, though. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to be insensitive.”
“No worries. I know where mine is—or at least who he’s with—and I’m losing my mind wondering how long it’ll be before I can get him back.”
“I just keep thinking about what kind of threat would spur this sort of reaction,” Freddie said.
“I imagine the worst kind. I can’t think about it, or I’ll go nuts.”
“At least you know he’s safe with people who love him and being guarded by federal agents.”
“Try telling that to Christina. She doesn’t want to hear that he’s safe and loved. She wants to hear he’s coming home.”
Ruby’s parents were staying at a hotel that’d seen better days on Massachusetts Avenue, one of the main arteries into and out of the District.
“Ugh,” Freddie said when they pulled up to the shitty-looking motel. “Look at this place.”
“Probably all they can afford. Who knows how long they’ll be here.”
They took the outdoor stairs to the second floor and knocked on the door to room 218.
The door flew open, and the exhausted-looking man who opened it immediately identified them as cops. “No,” he whispered. “Please don’t tell me...”
Freddie and Gonzo produced their badges and introduced themselves.
“Mr. Denton,” Gonzo said, “we don’t have any new information for you, but we can tell you that a female body was pulled from the Anacostia River today.”
A sharp cry of distress came from inside the room.
“May we come in?” Freddie asked.
Mr. Denton stepped aside to admit them, and Mrs. Denton rushed at them, fisting Freddie’s shirt, her eyes wild and rimmed with red. “Is it my daughter? Just tell me. Please tell me.”
Freddie covered her hands with his and gently extracted them from his shirt. “We don’t know yet if it’s her.”
“Take me to her,” Mrs. Denton said. “I need to see her.”
“I’m afraid it’s not possible to visually identify her,” Gonzo said.
She let out a wail, and only her husband’s arm around her kept her from falling.
“What do you need from us?” Mr. Denton asked.
“Dental records.” Gonzo said it quickly. They’d learned that was the best strategy in situations like this.
The woman’s legs collapsed under her, and her husband led her to the bed, where she sat and dropped her head into her hands, sobbing uncontrollably.
Gonzo placed his card on the desk. “If you could have them sent to us at the address written on the back of this card as soon as possible, we’ll let you know if it’s her.”
Mr. Denton nodded in understanding. “We’ll take care of it.”
“We’re sorry you’re going through this,” Freddie said. “We’re doing everything we can to get answers for you.” The Missing Persons squad had been working around the clock since Ruby disappeared. Until a floater showed up in the river, they hadn’t had a single break in the case.
“Thank you.” Mr. Denton showed them to the door. “We appreciate all that’s being done to find her.”
As they headed for the stairs, Gonzo stopped all of a sudden to lean against the wall. He closed his eyes to take a deep breath.
“You okay?” Freddie asked.
Gonzo nodded but he didn’t move from his post against the wall.
Freddie wasn’t sure what he should do, so he waited. Since Arnold died, Gonzo had been more prone to moments such as this when the job seemed too much for him. The old Gonzo, the pre-Arnold-being-killed Gonzo, would’ve powered through a situation like this, knowing it was part of the job. This Gonzo... Well, he was different—quieter, moodier, anxious and tense. He didn’t smile as easily or joke around the way he used to.
Freddie missed the old Gonzo, but he understood. He couldn’t fathom what it would be like to lose Sam the way Gonzo had lost Arnold. Just having her taken off the grid by the Secret Service was making him crazy. Losing her forever... The very thought of it made him shudder with revulsion.
Freddie was relieved to take a call from his fiancée, Elin. He walked toward the stairwell to give Gonzo some space and took the call.
“Hey, hon, what’s up?”
“Just wondering if you’ve seen the news,” Elin said.
Freddie braced himself for whatever had happened now. “Nah, I’ve been working.”
“The Capital News Network is reporting that the vice president’s family has been threatened, and the Secret Service has taken Nick, Sam, their son and extended family to a safe location.”
“I knew about that. They took her right from a crime scene earlier. Did they say anything specific about the threat?”
“No, but the news people are speculating about the kind of threat that could force the Secret Service to take such drastic measures.”
“What’re they saying?”
“Terrorism is topping the list.”
Freddie sagged against the wall and released a deep sigh. “We were working a crime scene, and they just took her. It was crazy. For a while after, I wasn’t even entirely sure they were actually federal agents.”
“And you don’t know anything about where they’re being held?”
“Nope. Get this—Angela had Alex, so he’s with them in the secret location. Gonzo and Christina are losing their minds wondering where he is and how long it’ll be before they get him back.”
“Oh my God. That’s crazy. How’re you doing?”
“It’s been a very strange day all around.”
“When will you be home?”
“I’m going back to HQ for a short time to finish up some paperwork, and then I’ll be home. An hour or two.”
“I’ll make some dinner.”
“That sounds good.” He couldn’t wait to get home to her and put this hideous day behind him. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too.” As he ended the call, Gonzo went past him down the stairs. Freddie followed him.
They drove back to HQ in silence. In the parking lot, Freddie said, “You go home to Christina. I’ll write this up and finish the reports from earlier.”
Gonzo nodded. “Thanks.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m great.” He said what Freddie wanted to hear, but any fool could see he was the opposite of great. “I’ll see you in the morning. Call me if anything pops overnight.”
“I will. You do the same.”
CHAPTER FOUR (#u3e246bd7-aa16-5261-8947-fcb0bbd09212)
FREDDIE WENT INSIDE, headed for the pit and found it deserted except for Detective Will Tyrone typing away on his computer. They worked together in silence for a long time, and Freddie was grateful for the quiet end to the chaotic day.
“You were worried that the people that took her weren’t really Secret Service?” Will’s voice cut through the silence.
“I didn’t know what to think,” Freddie said. “I wanted to believe that they were legit, but the way they took her was so... It had me wondering. But they called Gonzo to tell him they had Alex. That put my mind at ease that the agents were legit, but now I’m wondering what kind of threat was received that would lead Nick to authorize having his entire family brought in.”
“I...um... I need to tell you something.”
What now? Freddie sat back in his chair and looked up at his friend and colleague. “Sure. What’s going on?”
“I’ve decided to leave.”
“Leave...”
“The MPD.”
Freddie sat up straight. “What’re you talking about?”
“I... I can’t do it anymore, Freddie. I just can’t do it. I can’t take it. Ever since Jeannie was taken and then the lieutenant and then Gonzo being shot and then Arnold... It’s too much. It’s just too damned much.”
“Will, come on. We’ve had a rough year. Everyone agrees. But it’s not always like this.”
“Yes, it is! It’s always like this. Now you’re wondering if Sam was kidnapped earlier, and you’re wise enough after all that’s happened to know that’s not outside the realm of possibility. I can’t live like this, constantly fearing what’s going to happen next to people I care about.”
Freddie noticed that Will’s hands were shaking and beads of sweat lined his forehead. “Have you told anyone else how you’re feeling?”
He shook his head. “Normally, I’d tell A.J., but of course that’s not an option anymore.”
“I know you and Arnold were close—”
“He was my best friend, Freddie. My best friend.” Will’s voice broke, and Freddie’s heart went out to him.
“You have to wonder if he’d want you to give up a promising career because of what happened to him.”
“If he knew he’d be gunned down on a sidewalk because of the badge he carried, he’d tell me to run for my life and get out while I still can.”
“No, he wouldn’t. He’d tell you not to be a fool and throw away years of hard work over a senseless tragedy.” Before Will could reply, Freddie pressed on. “We all question what the hell we’re doing here sometimes. Do you think I haven’t? How do you think I felt when one of my own colleagues arranged to have my girlfriend roughed up to get me out of the picture so he could grab my partner?”
Will stood with his hands on his hips, his head down and his jaw tight with tension.
“One of the worst days of my life, hands down.” Freddie forced himself to continue, even though he hated to even think about that day, let alone talk about it. “Elin’s face... I mean, what they did to her... I wanted to kill someone. But I never once thought about leaving the job, Will. Not once.”
“Then I guess you’re a better man than I am, because leaving is all I’ve thought about for months now.”
“I’m not a better man than you. I just don’t want to see you make a big mistake that you’ll regret later.”
“I won’t regret it.”
“Have you talked to Sam about this?”
“I haven’t talked to anyone about it. Until now.”
“What about Trulo?” Freddie asked of the department shrink.
“I met with him the way we were required to after Arnold died, but no, I haven’t talked to him about leaving.”
“Would you? Would you please do that before you do something that can’t be undone?”
“I...”
“Please, Will. If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for the rest of us. Do it for me as your friend. Do it because I’m asking you to.”
“It won’t change anything.”
“At least you’d know you did everything you could to make an informed, logical decision and not one based on emotions.”
“Yeah, fine. I’ll do it.”
“And you’ll let me know how it goes.”
Will nodded. “I will.”
Freddie released the breath he’d been holding. “Okay, then.” After Will went back to his cubicle to finish the report on the double suicide, Freddie closed his eyes for a few minutes to process what Will had said. Freddie certainly didn’t blame his colleague for feeling the way he did. In more than eight years on the job, he’d seen his share of people who’d decided police work wasn’t for them after they got a dose of the reality. But Will was a damned good detective, and it’d be a shame to see all that potential lost to grief that would, over time, become more manageable.
Hell, Freddie missed Arnold and his corny jokes and his endless optimism and almost naive approach to life and the job. He was a good guy, a great colleague and friend. But even after all the insane crap that’d happened in the last year, it had never occurred to Freddie to quit the force. What would he do with himself without this job to come to every day? Who would he be without it?
And most important of all, where in the hell was Sam when he needed her?
* * *
WAITING WAS TORTURE, especially for the most impatient woman on the face of the earth. Sam wanted answers, and she wanted them right now. But even more than that, she wanted Nick. They’d said it would be six hours until he landed at Andrews. That was seven hours ago, and she was now, officially, coming out of her skin waiting to see him and find out what he knew about this alleged threat against their family.
She had to give the agents credit. They’d gone to extraordinary lengths to ensure the comfort of her family, even going so far as to bring in a hospital bed and other equipment for her father, who was now resting comfortably with Celia by his side in an adjoining room. The kids had been fed, bathed and put to bed in a room with eight twin-size beds. Other bedrooms had been provided for each couple.
Sam had been shown to her room, which had a king-size bed, a television that received only movie channels—she’d checked that first thing—and an adjoining bathroom. The accommodations weren’t bad except for the lack of windows. This had to be what it felt like to be in a really nice jail.
Her brother-in-law Spencer had arrived about two hours ago, clearly rattled after having been escorted from a business trip in Philadelphia to where his family was being held in DC. Angela had been so happy to see him she’d burst into tears and rushed into his arms.
Scotty was in the main room playing video games with his cousin Ethan, so Sam took advantage of the opportunity to steal some alone time.
Weary and out of things to talk about with people who wanted answers she didn’t have, Sam stretched out on the bed in the room she’d been assigned. She wondered what her MPD colleagues were thinking about how she’d been taken from a crime scene by the Secret Service. Freddie had to be taking it hard. He’d blame himself for not being able to stop the agents from taking her. When she got a chance, Sam would tell him there was nothing he could’ve done to change the outcome. The agents had been operating on the orders of the vice president, and nothing could’ve stopped them.
She also wondered if they had any new information about the body in the river. Was it Ruby Denton? Would they be able to figure out what’d happened to her and get some closure for her poor parents?
Sam hated being cut off from her life this way. It was a form of torture to someone used to being in the know at all times.
Though she wanted to wait up for Nick, she couldn’t keep her eyes open and dozed off, only to be tormented by crazy dreams about being chased through an underground bunker. Water running in the attached bathroom had her sitting up on the bed, shaking off the feelings of doom from the disturbing dream. She bolted out of bed and was heading for the bathroom when the door opened to reveal her husband, stripped down to boxers, his magnificent chest on full display.
Sam rushed to him, and he met her with arms wide open, lifting her up and into his embrace. She had never, in all her life, been so happy to see anyone as she was to see him, to breathe in the scent of home, to feel his strong arms around her, to know he was safe and sound and back where he belonged.
Before she could ask any of her burning questions, he was kissing her with weeks’ worth of pent-up desire exploding between them, making the questions secondary to the need to reconnect with him.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, losing herself in the kiss. Then she was falling onto the bed with him coming down on top of her, heavy, strong and hard as a rock. Before she took total leave of her senses, she broke the kiss. “We need to talk.”
“We will.” His lips moved on her neck, feeding the fire inside. “This first.”
Whatever he needed to tell her would keep for a few more minutes.
“Missed you so much,” he whispered as he made quick work of getting her naked.
“I missed you too. I hated every minute without you.”
“Same, baby.” And then he was surging into her, hot and strong and deep.
Sam arched her back, gasping from the impact and the pleasure and the nearly painful need he aroused in her. “The door...”
“Is locked. It’s okay.”
She relaxed ever so slightly, knowing they wouldn’t be interrupted but still anxious about what he had to tell her.
“You’re all tense,” he said when he was deep inside her, throbbing and pulsing with life.
“You’re not?”
“I have been, but I’m better now that I’m with you and everyone we love is safe. Give me fifteen minutes to have this, to be with you, and then we can deal with everything else.” He wrapped her up in his arms and rocked into her, over and over again until it wasn’t possible to think about anything other than him and the magic they created together. “Love you so much,” he whispered in her ear. “So, so, so much.”
“Mmm, me too. Don’t ever go away again. I can’t deal with it.”
“I can’t either. I hate being away from you.” His lips found hers in another hungry, desperate kiss.
Sam clung to him, drawing strength from his love to face whatever had to be done to keep their family safe. With him here now, she was less anxious and afraid than she’d been earlier.
“I was so scared something had happened to you.”
He tightened his arms around her and picked up the pace, letting her know he was alive and well and home where he belonged. “I’m sorry you were scared. I never wanted that.” Reaching to where they were joined, he touched her right where she needed it most, drawing a sharp cry of pleasure from her as she came hard.
“That’s what I’ve missed so much,” he whispered gruffly into her ear as he gave in to his own pleasure.
Sam kept her arms tight around him and ran her fingers through his hair as she kissed him until her lips were numb, all the while wishing they were at home in their own bed rather than locked up in this underground bunker. She wanted to stay wrapped up in this moment with him so she wouldn’t have to face whatever had put them in this place to begin with.
“Tell me,” she whispered when their breathing had returned to normal.
“It’s bad.”
“I’d already reached that conclusion all on my own.”
He withdrew from her, moved onto his back and reached for her hand. “I wish I didn’t have to tell you this.”
Sam’s stomach began to hurt, and her recently relaxed body was once again filled with tension.
“Early this morning, my office received a letter. It was typed on plain white paper with no other identifying marks, and it spelled out in very specific detail that the vice president’s family had better be on guard because people were watching and waiting for their chance to teach us a lesson in humility.”
Sam’s mind raced with questions and scenarios. “Did your staff save the envelope?”
“They saved everything, and the FBI has it for further analysis. The postmark was smudged, so they couldn’t see where it originated. I was made aware of it twenty minutes after it happened and began making arrangements to come home right away. Due to some things that were going on there, it didn’t happen as quickly as I wanted it to, which made for some significant tension with my detail. I wanted out of there, but they needed time to put things together.”
“You said they spelled out in very specific detail what would happen. What kind of detail?”
“That’s the part I don’t want to tell you.”
“You have to. I need to know what we’re dealing with.”
“Come closer to me. Let me hold you.”
She rolled into his arms, her head on his chest where the strong beat of his heart soothed her. “Just tell me. The not knowing is the worst.”
He held her close, his lips sliding over her hair. “They said they would take someone who matters greatly to us and make them sorry they were ever born before returning them to us in pieces. They included photos of each of the kids that were taken in public places. Scotty at camp, Brooke at work, the others at the playground or pool. They wanted us to know they knew where to find them.”
Sam gasped and her stomach turned from the horror he described. The thought of such a thing happening to anyone they loved was unfathomable. “Did they say why?”
“No.”
“Does the threat meet the MO of a group already on the Secret Service’s radar?”
“Not completely. Parts of it are familiar to them, but other parts, like the mention of humility, were new. They’re thinking homegrown versus foreign.” Nick ran his fingers through her hair, the gesture so familiar that it was soothing even as she churned with thoughts and fears. “You’re shaking, Samantha.”
“Did they specify that our immediate family was in danger?”
“No, they only said someone who matters to us.”
“There’re a lot of people who matter greatly to us who aren’t in this bunker or whatever you want to call it. Freddie, Elin, Gonzo, Christina, Jeannie, Terry, Lindsey... To name a few. What about them?”
“We talked about that, and the decision was made to limit it to family members for the time being.”
Pulling free of his embrace, Sam sat up. “The others need to be notified! If they want to get to me and everyone here is unavailable, they’d know to go after Freddie next. He at least needs to be warned!”
“He and all the others you named, as well as some others you didn’t mention, are being warned as we speak.”
“God, Nick, what the hell are we going to do? Stay here until we find whoever sent this letter? What if that takes months?”
“I don’t know. All I knew for certain when I was told about the letter while half a world away from everyone I love was that I wanted you and Scotty somewhere safe. I wanted the other people we love to be safe. When the Secret Service offered this solution, I jumped at it. I didn’t know what else to do.”
With the bedside light still on, she could see the toll the situation had taken on him in the exhaustion she saw in his eyes and in the grim set of his jaw. “Did you know this place existed before now?”
“I’d been briefed about emergency operations, including this place, on the outside chance they were needed. I never expected we’d actually need it, and I’m sorry they let you think for even a second that something had happened to me. I didn’t authorize that part of it.”
“The last time I was that scared was when you had the flu and wouldn’t wake up. You’ve got to stop doing this to me.”
“I will. As soon as you stop doing it to me every time you walk out the door.”
Sam forced a smile for his sake, sensing he needed it.
“I hate that I’ve done this to us,” he said on a long sigh.
“What do you mean? You didn’t—”
“I took this fucking job and plunged us into a nightmare.”
“You can’t take responsibility for this. You agreed to serve your country. None of the rest is your fault. If anything, it’s probably mine.”
“How do you figure?”
“If they’re dinging us for a lack of humility, they’re probably not talking about you.”
“Stop. You’re nothing if not humble.”
“I am not. I’m a mouthy gasbag who goes through life doing what I want when I want. The citizens who love you probably hate your wife.”
“The whole world could hate my wife, and it wouldn’t matter in the least to me. I love her, and I wouldn’t want any other gasbag but her to be my wife.”
Sam settled herself back in his arms, the only place she really wanted to be anyway. “Good answer, Mr. Vice President. Very politically correct.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Trying to understand or rationalize madness is a pointless exercise. It won’t get us anywhere but frustrated.”
“I suppose, but I still wish I’d never taken this job and made us targets for shit like this.”
“I want to say something you’re not going to want to hear.”
“What else is new?”
Sam tugged on a tuft of his chest hair, making him gasp and then laugh.
“What’s the thing I’m not going to want to hear?”
“Let’s not hide out. Let’s go back to our lives with full awareness of the threat and not let them win.”
“I knew you’d feel that way. In fact, I predicted to Brant that’s what you’d say,” he said of John Brantley Junior, the lead agent on his detail. “You carry a gun and can protect yourself if need be. Scotty and I have Secret Service details. But what about Brooke and Abby and Ethan and Jack and Ella? What about my dad’s little boys? Who will protect them if we don’t keep them safe somewhere until we figure this out?”
“So we’re all stuck here for God knows how long?”
“Hopefully, it won’t be for too long.”
“But you don’t know that.” Sam got out of bed and pulled on a T-shirt that she’d found in a dresser full of clothes in her size. This whole thing was weird on so many levels. “I can’t stay here indefinitely. I have a new case and people depending on me.”
“I’m depending on you, and I’d like to keep you alive.”
“I can take care of myself, Nick. Let me out of here so I can help figure out who’s threatening us.”
“No.”
She stopped pacing and stared at him, incredulous. “No? That’s it? Just no?”
“Just no. And before you can turn this into me abusing my so-called power, this is not coming from me. It’s coming from the FBI and the Secret Service. The director of the Secret Service came right out and said this is the only way they can guarantee my family will be safe until we know what we’re dealing with.”
“You can’t keep me here! I’ll lose my mind! Is that what you want?”
“I want you alive, Samantha. That’s all I want.”
“I’m in Jeannie’s wedding next week. What do I do about that? She needs me right now, Nick. She’s fragile. You know she is.”
“She has her family and Michael and the rest of your squad propping her up. She’ll be fine, and hopefully, this will be over in time for the wedding.”
“Hopefully? If it takes longer than one more day, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
He got up and went to her, taking her by the hand to lead her back to bed.
She went with him, but not as willingly as she usually did.
“I know this is awful,” he said in the tone he used when she needed soothing. “It’s awful for me too. You wouldn’t have wanted to see me when I heard about this threat while I was in fucking Iran. I know what it’s like to be out of your mind, because I’ve already been there over this.” As he spoke, he ran his fingers through her hair. “The thing I hate most about this job is that I can’t protect you and Scotty from people who’d harm you because of me. That’s a hard thing for me to live with.”
“I don’t like when you tell me no.”
“How often do I do that?”
“Not very,” she said grudgingly.
“Only when I absolutely have to.”
“If I’m going to be kept prisoner here, I want to be in the loop. I want to know the details of the investigation. I need to feel like I’m doing something to get us out of here, or I really will go mad.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“I want to see the letter and the pictures they sent.”
“They’re giving me copies of them in the morning so I can bring the others up to speed on why we’re here.”
“My dad will need doctors and medication and...”
“It’s all being taken care of. I made sure of it.”
Sam exhaled and forced herself to try to relax and slow her racing mind.
“There is an upside to this so-called imprisonment.”
“What possible upside could there be to being held captive in an underground cement bunker in the middle of summer?”
“Lots of time for this.” He flattened his hand on her thigh and dragged it up to cup her mound, sliding a finger into her. “And this.”
She turned toward him, intending to protest, but he captured her mouth in a kiss that stole her breath and made her forget what she’d been planning to say.
“Missed you so much,” he whispered against her lips as he continued to slide his fingers in and out of her, bending them to reach the place that set her off.
Sam spread her legs farther apart to give him better access and opened her mouth to his tongue. He was right about one thing. If they were going to be stuck here indefinitely, she was going to enjoy the reunion with her beloved husband.
CHAPTER FIVE (#u3e246bd7-aa16-5261-8947-fcb0bbd09212)
IN THE MORNING, Sam and Nick gathered their loved ones in the common area to explain why they’d been brought to the underground bunker. While the little ones played in one of the bedrooms under the watch of two agents, Nick filled in the others on what the letter said and what the FBI and Secret Service were doing to find the person who’d sent it.
They had debated about whether to include Scotty in the briefing but had determined that he and Brooke were old enough to know the truth.
“You must get threats all the time, Nick,” Spencer said. “What was so different about this one?”
“Several things. First of all was the timing. It was sent to my office when the whole world knew I was in Iran, helping to negotiate the arms agreement.” He lowered his voice to add, “Second, and more important, were the photos included with the letter.”
“What photos?” Tracy asked.
Nick passed them around.
Sam, who’d seen the images earlier, watched each of the adults as they realized who had been threatened.
Angela brought her hand to her heart, her eyes darting around frantically.
Spencer put his arm around her.
“Dear God,” Nick’s dad, Leo, said before he passed the photo of his sons at day care to his wife, Stacy, who gasped.
“Whoever sent the threat has been watching our family,” Nick said. “As you can see, they know where to find each of the kids.”
Scotty stared at the photo of himself at baseball camp while Brooke did the same with the picture of her at work.
“They were watching us?” Brooke asked in a small voice that tugged at Sam’s heart. After everything her niece had been through last winter, it was infuriating to see her scared again when she’d made so much progress toward putting her life back together.
“I’m not telling you this to scare you, Brooke,” Nick said. “We thought it was only fair for you to know why you’re here.”
“How long do you think we’ll have to stay here?” Graham asked.
“I wish I knew,” Nick said. “The FBI and Secret Service are doing everything they can to get to the bottom of it as quickly as possible.” After a pause, he continued. “Look, everyone, I know this sucks, and I feel so bad having to put you all through it, but I didn’t know what else to do after I saw those pictures when I was on the other side of the world.”
“You did the right thing, Nick,” Skip said. “The only thing you could do in light of those photos. In your shoes, I would’ve done the same.”
Sam could see that her father’s words helped to relieve some of Nick’s burden.
“I never would’ve gone to such extremes if I hadn’t thought it was necessary,” Nick said. “I hope you know that.”
“We do,” Celia said. “Of course we do, and you know, I was saying to Skip this morning that we need to make the best of this situation. How often do we get to spend this kind of time with the ones we love the most? Everyone is so busy and rushed these days. Let’s try to enjoy being together while they investigate.”
Sam smiled at her stepmother. Leave it to her to see the positive in an otherwise sucky situation. “I think that’s a great idea, Celia.”
“So you’re going to relax and enjoy the break from your real life?” Nick asked with a smile.
“Well, I meant everyone else should.”
The others laughed at her comment, which broke the tension somewhat. And then she noticed Scotty still staring at the picture of himself at camp. She nudged Nick and nodded toward their son.
“I’ll keep you all posted to the best of my ability.” Nick stood and went over to where Scotty sat. “Can I see you for a minute, buddy?”
Scotty looked up at him. “Um, yeah. Sure.”
Nick led Scotty into their bedroom.
Sam followed them and closed the door.
“Are you okay?” Nick asked.
“It’s just kinda weird, you know? That someone was watching me at baseball camp.”
“It’s really weird,” Nick said, “and you’re absolutely right to feel violated.”
“I guess I’m still getting used to all of this,” Scotty said. “People knowing who I am and stuff.”
Sam could see in Nick’s expression and the tense set of his shoulders how much he disliked being the reason that people now recognized their son.
“I’m sorry to have put you in that position. It’s a lot to ask of you and Mom and the rest of the family.”
“I’m not sorry,” Scotty said fiercely.
“You’re not?” Nick asked.
“Of course I’m not. You’re the best possible vice president we could have, and I don’t want you to feel bad. It’s not your fault that people are weird.”
Sam and Nick laughed, and the look her husband sent her made her heart ache with love for both of them.
“Thank you, buddy.” Nick took the photo of Scotty at camp from him and ripped it up. “Don’t ever forget that the Secret Service is watching over you no matter where you are. They’d never let the weirdos get anywhere near you.”
“I know. Don’t worry about me. I can handle it.”
Nick wrapped his arms around his son and hugged him. “I know you can, and that makes your mom and I very proud of you.”
Sam joined them in a group hug. Because she knew it would set Scotty off, she went up on tiptoes to kiss Nick over the boy’s head.
“Eww, gross! I’m right here!”
Sam laughed at his predictable reaction and made kissing noises behind Scotty’s back.
“I’m out.” Scotty scooted from between them and bolted for the door.
“He’s something else, that kid of ours,” Nick said.
“He certainly is. Just like his father.”
Nick smiled down at her, but she could see the weariness in the hollows under his eyes. Despite Scotty’s assurances, Nick wouldn’t truly rest until the FBI got to the bottom of the threat against their family.
* * *
WITH SAM OUT for God knew how long and Captain Malone on a personal day, Gonzo was asked to handle the morning media briefing on the floater and the results of the autopsy. Facing off with the ravenous media was never his favorite thing to do, and it was especially unpleasant with the sun beating down on him relentlessly. It took about four seconds to sweat through his shirt.
“At thirteen twenty-three yesterday, we received a 911 call about a body in the Anacostia River, just south of the John Philip Sousa Bridge. Tactical Response teams were dispatched to the scene, where a female victim was recovered. The body was brought back to headquarters and an autopsy performed by Chief Medical Examiner Dr. Lindsey McNamara. Dr. McNamara has determined the body is not that of missing college student Ruby Denton. I repeat, the body is not Ruby Denton.”
“How do you know that?” Darren Tabor from the Washington Star shouted.
“Ms. Denton’s dental records were provided by her family, and they are not a match for the victim in our morgue.”
“Then who is she?” Darren asked.
“We’re working to identify her at this time.”
“Why was it deemed necessary for the Secret Service to take Lieutenant Holland from the scene at the river?” another reporter asked.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss that.”
“Can you confirm it was the Secret Service who took her?”
“And where’s the vice president?” another asked. “The White House is refusing to confirm his whereabouts.”
“And you think I’m going to do that when they won’t?” Gonzo asked with a huff of incredulous laughter. “That’s it. We’re done here.”
While they continued to shout questions about the floater as well as Sam and Nick’s whereabouts, Gonzo turned away from the podium and went inside, thankful for the cool blast of air-conditioning that greeted him along with Chief Farnsworth.
“I can’t believe they expect me to tell them where the vice president is, as if that’s my job,” Gonzo said.
“You handled it well,” the chief said. “It’s not up to us to confirm or deny his whereabouts—or hers for that matter.”
“Has there been any word about where they are?”
“Not that I’ve heard.”
“What about Archie’s team? Have they picked up anything?”
“Nothing.”
“I don’t like this, sir. What if this entire thing is some sort of nefarious plot, and we’re sitting here with our thumbs up our asses?”
“That possibility kept me awake last night.”
Gonzo’s stomach dropped at that news. “So you think it’s fishy too?”
“I don’t know what to think. I’m planning to reach out to Sam’s White House staff today to find out whether the MPD should launch an official investigation.”
“Oh, I like that idea, sir. I like that a whole lot. They’ve got my son with them. I want him back. I want them all back.”
“They may not be able to tell us what’s going on, but we can sure as hell put them on notice that we don’t like the way it’s being handled.”
“Keep me posted?”
“I will.” Farnsworth took a measuring look at him that had Gonzo on the verge of squirming. “You seem to be doing better, Sergeant.”
Grief was, as Gonzo had discovered, unpredictable in its ability to come swooping into a day and remind you of what’d been lost so senselessly. “Maybe. A little.”
“I admire your tenacity and resiliency.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You have a bright future in this department, Sergeant. I’m glad to see you bouncing back from your loss. I hope you’ll let me know if there’s anything you need.”
“I will, sir,” Gonzo said, moved by the chief’s kindness and support. “Thank you.”
“Carry on, then.”
“Have a good day, sir, and please let me know what you hear from the White House. I know the rest of the squad is wondering about where she is.”
“Will do.”
Gonzo left the lobby and headed for the pit, where third-shift Detectives Dominguez and Carlucci had hung around with Freddie after their shift ended, hoping for news about the lieutenant.
“Anything?” Carlucci asked when she saw Gonzo coming.
“Not yet. The chief is going to reach out to Sam’s office at the White House to see if they can shed any light. He promised to keep me posted.”
“I feel like we should be doing something,” Freddie said.
“What we need to be doing is investigating the body that was found in the river. Carlucci and Dominguez, go home and get some sleep. I’ll text you if we hear anything about the lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir,” they said as one.
“I want everyone else going through missing persons records. Start with the District, Virginia and Maryland over the last three months and work your way out to other areas if nothing pops locally. We’re looking for a female Caucasian between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five. Pull every file that meets the criteria, and we’ll go from there.”
While the others got busy seeing to his orders, Cruz asked if he could have a minute alone.
“Sure—come into the LT’s office.” As her second-in-command, Gonzo had a key and used it to unlock the door. He flipped on the lights and went to sit behind her cluttered desk. “What’s up?”
Cruz shut the door and leaned against it, looking tense. “I’m not sure if I’m doing the right thing bringing this to you, but I can’t sit on it.”
“Then you’re doing the right thing. What’s going on?”
“It’s Tyrone. He told me last night he’s thinking about leaving the department.”
Gonzo didn’t have to ask why, because of course he knew. Arnold had been Tyrone’s closest friend in the squad, and he’d taken the loss of his friend just as hard as Gonzo had. “Fuck.”
“Yeah, what you said. I talked him into meeting with Trulo again before he does something that can’t be undone, but I think he’s resolved.”
Gonzo blew out a deep breath. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Without throwing me under the bus?”
“Yeah. Don’t sweat it. Thanks for letting me know. You did the right thing.”
“What about you?” Freddie asked.
“What about me?”
“You said something a couple of months ago about maybe wanting to leave.”
“And yet here I am,” Gonzo said, “still doing what I’ve always done.”
“So you’re not thinking about leaving anymore?”
“I think about it. Sometimes. But this is what I know. It’s who I am. Who would I be if I wasn’t a cop, you know?”
“I know exactly what you mean,” Freddie said.
“I’m trying to take the advice I was given repeatedly after it first happened—not to do anything rash that I might regret.”
“That’s a good plan.”
“For now.”
“Everything is different. It’s like we’ve lost our innocence or something.”
“That’s exactly what happened. Cops getting killed was something that happened to other squads in other cities. Not to us. Now it’s happened to us, and we’re changed forever by it. That’s one of many things I’m trying to wrap my head around, and I know the rest of you are too.”
“We are, and hearing Will say he wants out was a shock, to say the least.”
“I’m not as surprised as I should be. He’s been very withdrawn and quiet the last few months. He gets the job done, but there’s no enthusiasm for it anymore.”
“Has Jeannie mentioned anything?” Freddie asked.
“She’s been so distracted by the wedding that I doubt she’s even noticed.”
“Or she can’t deal with it.”
“Which is also possible. Try not to worry. I’ll talk to him. I’ll make sure he’s taking full advantage of the department’s resources and that he makes the best possible decision.”
“Thanks. I’ll leave you to it.”
Cruz left the office but kept the door open to the pit, where Gonzo could see and hear his team working together on the Jane Doe case. Even Carlucci and Dominguez had stuck around to help, despite his orders to go home to get some sleep. Their tight-knit squad was a well-oiled machine, thanks in large part to Sam’s leadership. Losing one of them had rocked their team to the core, and it would be a long time, if ever, before things returned to “normal.”
CHAPTER SIX (#u3e246bd7-aa16-5261-8947-fcb0bbd09212)
TIME BECAME IRRELEVANT UNDERGROUND. Daytime, nighttime, it was all the same, and the longer Sam stared at gray cement walls, the crazier she felt. She began to crave sleep because it was the only escape she got from the boring monotony. Even Nick, who normally distracted her effortlessly, wasn’t able to get her mind off their predicament.
After dinner with the cranky group confined for a second day underground, Sam went into her room and crawled into bed, the one place she could go to escape from the whining, the bickering, the boredom.
Even though these were the people she loved the most in the world, she was damned tired of being stuck with them. They’d had no news from the Secret Service beyond the fact that they and the FBI were working with “all due diligence” to get to the bottom of the threat. Through Nick she’d also heard that her chief had called the White House to determine her whereabouts and had been assured she was safe.
Scotty was napping down the hall while Nick spent some time with his dad’s family and the O’Connors. With nothing else to do, Sam closed her eyes and dozed off, hoping that when she awakened, something would have changed in this ridiculous situation.
She dreamed about cases she’d worked, perps she’d arrested and her father’s shooting. Words and people and danger surrounded her as she ran from one place to another, trying to find a safe place to hide. Her ex-husband, Peter, was there, mocking her as she tried to get away, running down one dark corridor after another in a maze without end. Where was Nick? He would find her and keep her safe, but he was far away, somewhere she couldn’t get to.
Peter’s laughter echoed off the walls, reminding her that he was watching and enjoying her discomfort.
Nick’s mother, of all people, was with him.
“You never should’ve turned me away,” Nicoletta said before she shoved Sam back into the darkness and straight into the arms of Leonard Stahl.
Sam screamed, but there was no one to save her.
“You always were so cocky and mouthy,” Peter said spitefully. “I always said you needed some humility.”
With a thick arm around her neck, Stahl dragged her down another dark corridor. “This time I’m going to finish the job.” He pulled her into a room where one of Sam’s enemies, Sergeant Ramsey, stood with blood running down his face from where she’d punched him and the bodies of Mitchell Sanborn and little Quentin Johnson had been left to rot. The smell was horrific.
Sam screamed for Nick, and then he was there. She could hear his voice and tried to get to him.
“Samantha, wake up. Babe, wake up.” His lips were soft on her face as she breathed in his familiar scent.
She opened her eyes and blinked him into focus. Then she sat up and hurled herself into his arms.
“Baby, what’s wrong? I could hear you screaming from the other room.”
“I was dreaming.” She shuddered. “They were all there. Everyone who hates me. They were after me. Ramsey and Stahl... He had me by the throat, and Peter said I need some humility.”
Nick froze. “He said that? In your dream?”
“He used to say that to me all the time.”
“Samantha... The threat. That’s what it said. That we needed some humility.”
She pulled back from him and ran her hands over her face, still trying to shake off the disturbing dream. “I never thought of it. I’ve blocked him out. You don’t think...”
“I don’t know, but it’s certainly worth passing along to the Secret Service and the FBI.”
“Only if I’m there when you pass it along. I’m tired of sitting on the sidelines while others investigate a threat against us. Let me do what I do best, Nick. I need to be involved in this.”
“I’ll talk to Brant. You’re sure you’re okay?”
“I’ll be a hell of a lot better when we can get the fuck out of here.”
“Me too, babe.” He kissed her and got up to leave the room.
Sam watched him go, noting the unusual slump to his shoulders. The ordeal was taking an added toll on him because he felt it was his fault they were in this predicament. She wondered when the last time he truly slept had been. Stress made his issues with insomnia a thousand times worse, and his stress level had to be through the roof.
As soon as they got out of here, Sam was going to talk to their doctor friend Harry Flynn about getting Nick on something to help him sleep. There had to be something he could take to ensure he got a good night’s sleep without leaving him groggy and out of sorts the next day.
Nick returned a few minutes later. “The Secret Service is notifying the FBI that we want to talk to the agents in charge of the investigation. They’ll be here shortly.”
“And they’re going to let me be in there?”
“I told them you’re the one with information.”
Sam smiled and held out a hand to him.
He came over, took her hand and let her tug him into bed with her.
“Nicely played, my love,” Sam said.
“It certainly can’t hurt to have you involved in figuring out what the hell this is about.”
“I completely agree.”
He snorted with laughter. “I figured you might.”
Sam caressed his face, taking note of the deep, dark circles under his eyes. “When was the last time you slept?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You can’t go on this way. We need to talk to Harry about getting you on something.”
“He told me to try melatonin.”
“You didn’t tell me that.”
“I didn’t want you to worry.”
“Too late. Did it help?”
“Not that I could tell.”
Sam sighed in frustration.
He pulled her in closer to him. “Don’t worry, babe. I’ve always had insomnia and managed to soldier through.”
“It’s worse now.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Definitely.”
His soft chuckle made her smile. “Always have to have the last word, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. It’s one of many things you love about me.” She wrapped her arms around him and urged him to rest his head on her chest. “Close your eyes and try to sleep for a while. In this moment, everything is okay. I’ll be right here.”
“Promise?”
“Always.”
Sam ran her fingers through his hair in what she hoped was a soothing caress. She loved that his hair was thick and soft at the same time. She also loved the weight of his body resting against hers. Breathing in the familiar scent that she’d missed so much while he was gone, she was almost able to relax.
A few minutes later, Brant came to the door Nick had left open. Sam held up a hand to stop him from speaking. Instead, he held up three fingers on one hand and made a zero out of the other hand. Then he pointed to his watch.
Sam nodded in acknowledgment that they had thirty minutes before the FBI would be there to talk to them.
Brant walked away.
She continued to caress Nick’s hair, hoping he’d rest for the half hour they had before they once again had to face reality.
By the time Brant reappeared at the door forty minutes later, Nick was sound asleep. Sam moved carefully to extricate herself and to settle his head on a pillow, hoping he’d stay asleep. She snuck out of the room and closed the door behind her. “He’s not to be disturbed for any reason.”
“Yes, ma’am. The FBI is here to speak to you both.”
“It’ll have to just be me. He needs to sleep.”
“Right this way.”
Sam followed Brant through the common area where Tracy, Mike, Spencer, Angela, Leo and Stacy were watching an action movie. Her appearance caught their attention, and she waved to them as she followed Brant down a corridor that led to the area where the agents were holed up.
The others were getting cagey too. Spencer was on the verge of closing a huge deal and was stressing out about what he was missing at work. Leo, who had a blue-collar job in Baltimore, was equally concerned about missing so much work. The Secret Service had assured them that they’d gotten word to their employers and their jobs would be safe.
Sam didn’t blame them for being skeptical. Who knew what she’d return to at work or how she’d explain where she’d been to the inquisitive detectives who worked for her?
Brant gestured for her to go ahead of him into a conference room where FBI Special Agent in Charge Avery Hill was waiting for her. Of course it had to be him. Didn’t the FBI have anyone else they could’ve sent? His odd fixation on her had been a source of problems for her, and he was about the last person she wanted to talk to about Peter.
“I’d say it was nice to see you, Avery, but that doesn’t seem appropriate under the circumstances. Being held prisoner doesn’t bring out the best in me.”
Avery made a sound that might’ve been a laugh but sounded more like a grunt. “I can only imagine. We were told you may have a lead for us.”
“I’m not sure if it’s a lead or a reach.”
“At this point we’ll take whatever we can get.”
“Does that mean you’ve got dick to go on?”
His expression never changed. “That means we’re interested in whatever you’ve got to say.”
Sam took a seat across the conference table from him. She folded her hands in front of her, forcing herself to conjure up a dream she’d much rather forget. “I had a dream that included all my best friends—Ramsey, Stahl and my ex-husband, Peter Gibson. In the dream, Peter said I needed some humility.”
Avery sat up a little straighter when he heard that. “And when you were together...”
“That was one of his favorite things to say to me.” Sam held up her hands to stop him from commenting. “I know what you’re going to say. I should’ve thought of it before now, but after he tried to kill me a couple of times, I put him so far in the past that he no longer exists to me. I was rattled by this entire situation and off my game. Those are my only excuses for missing this before now.”
“Those are good reasons. I wouldn’t call them excuses.”
“It’s all right. You don’t have to give me a pass. It should’ve rung a bell for me.”
“Where would we find him?”
“The last I knew he was living on Seventh Street.”
“As in two blocks from your place on Ninth?”
“Yep, but he’s since moved from there. I have no idea where he is now. I haven’t heard anything from him since last winter when I was notified as his next of kin after he tried to off himself.”
“And did you go?”
“Hell no, I didn’t go. I’m not his next of anything anymore.”
Avery pondered that for a moment. “I would think, if a man has a woman listed as his next of kin and she doesn’t come running after he tries to kill himself, that might make him mad.”
“Everything I do makes him mad. Why do you think I’m not married to him anymore?”
“How do you think he feels about you being married to the vice president?”
“Seeing as how he went to enormous lengths to keep Nick and I apart when we first met and then tried to blow us both up when we got back together, I’d say he probably doesn’t think too much of it.”
“How did he keep you and Nick apart when you first met?”
Sam sighed. “Rehashing this ancient history is almost as fun as being stuck in an underground cement bunker with no access to the outside world.”
“Humor me.”
“I first met Nick at a party eight years ago. Some guy spilled beer on me, and Nick came to my rescue with a smile and a handkerchief. We left together and had a great time. A really great time.” And the best sex of her life, not that she could tell Avery that in light of his strange fixation on her. “We made plans to see each other in a couple of weeks, when he got back from a work trip to Europe. Except I never heard from him again and assumed he’d blown me off.”
“He hadn’t?”
“Not even kinda. My roommate at the time, none other than my now ex-husband, Peter Gibson, had failed to give me the many messages Nick left for me at our house. The only cell phone I had at that time was department-issued, so I hadn’t given him that number. When I never called him back, he thought I was blowing him off and gave up.”
“When did you find this out?”
“Six years later, the day Nick found his boss and best friend, Senator John O’Connor, after he’d been murdered. We compared notes, put two plus two together to confirm what I already knew—that my ex-husband was a controlling bastard who’d manipulated the situation to his benefit.”
“How so?”
“Whose shoulder do you think I cried on when I never heard from the guy I liked so much?”
Avery snorted. “I can’t picture you crying on anyone’s shoulder.”
“Well, I did that summer,” Sam snapped. “I was crushed, and Peter was right there to pick up the pieces. I spent four miserable years married to him. He wanted to control my every thought and move. Needless to say, that was a bit of a problem for me. The final straw was when he claimed I was spending ‘too much time’ taking care of my recently paralyzed father. I left him, moved back into my dad’s house to help out with his care and stayed there until I married Nick.”
Avery’s hand flew over a yellow pad as he made notes. “Tell me about how he tried to kill you.”
“Do I really have to? The whole world knows about that.” Thinking about the miserable years she’d spent with Peter was like picking at a scab that wasn’t fully healed. It was painful and humiliating to recall how he’d emotionally abused her for years, not to mention all the ways he’d tried to derail her second chance with Nick.
“I’m fuzzy on the details.”
Sam wasn’t sure if she believed that, but she wanted to get this over with, so she humored him. “The first week I was back together with Nick, Peter tried to blow us up by strapping crude bombs to my car and Nick’s. Mine detonated, thankfully while I was outside the car and not in it. I was knocked off my feet and smacked my head on the outside of Nick’s townhouse in Arlington. He was actually more severely injured than I was because the glass door he was standing behind shattered in his face—and he walked over broken glass with bare feet to get to me.”
Sam shuddered remembering the horror of that day. It’d been a long time since she’d given Peter a thought, and the sick feeling that turned her stomach was an unwelcome reminder of the ordeal he’d put her—and Nick—through.
“Did you know right away that it was him?”
“No! It never occurred to me that he’d do something like that. At first we thought it was John O’Connor’s killer trying to throw us off his or her trail. We were entirely focused on that angle until my dad connected the dots and turned our attention toward Peter. As soon as my dad suggested him, I knew he was right. Me getting together with Nick would’ve infuriated Peter because he knew how much I’d liked Nick the first time around. He had to know we would’ve put together that he was the one who’d kept us apart.”
Thinking about the long, lonely years between when she first met Nick and when they finally had their chance to be together made her sad for what they’d missed out on. They’d more than made up for lost time in the eighteen months they’d been back together, but they’d never get back the six years they’d lost to Peter’s manipulations.
“Of course, you know the rest, how my squad found bomb-making materials in Peter’s apartment and how he got off on a warrant technicality. Other than him accosting me on the sidewalk outside my house on the night before my wedding, he’s been keeping a pretty low profile.”
“What’s your hunch about whether or not he’s behind this latest threat?”
“If you’d asked me that two years ago, I would’ve said he lacked the balls to threaten the sitting vice president. But after he tried to blow us up, I wouldn’t put anything past him.”
“The good news is his prints are on file after his arrest on the bombing, so if he touched that letter, we’ll have him.”
Her heart sank. “There won’t be prints.”
“Why do you say that?” Avery asked.
“Because he’ll have learned that lesson with the bombs. I called him out on it in interrogation. Like, how could you be so stupid? Didn’t you learn anything from living with a cop for four years? He wouldn’t make that mistake again.”
“That doesn’t mean we can’t get him in other ways.”
“He won’t make it easy.”
“Who are we talking about?”
Sam whirled around to find Nick standing in the doorway, his face lined from the pillowcase and his hair standing on end. He hardly resembled the handsome, debonair vice president the rest of the world knew. She held out her hand to him. “Do you feel better after getting some rest?”
He stepped forward to take her hand and sat next to her. “I did until I realized I’d been left out of this conversation.”
“You didn’t miss anything other than a trip down unpleasant memory lane.”
“You’re talking about Peter, then.”
“How’d you guess?”
“What’s your take?” Nick asked Avery.
“It’s as good of a lead as we’ve gotten. Often when someone threatens the president or vice president, they like to crow about it. In this case, there hasn’t been anything. No claim of responsibility. No chatter. No nothing.”
“Which means we’re stuck here indefinitely?”
“We’re doing everything we can.”
Right then and there Sam reached her breaking point. “I want out of here. I’m not under Secret Service protection, and I shouldn’t have to be here if I don’t want to be protected. Everyone here should be given that choice. You can’t hold us indefinitely.”
“That’s not up to you,” Nick said in a tone that told her he didn’t appreciate her doing this in front of Avery, of all people.
For once, Sam didn’t care what he appreciated. “You can’t hold me here against my will.”
“Yes, I can.”
“I’m your wife, not your prisoner.”
Avery stood and gathered up his pad, phone and other belongings from the table. “I’ve got what I need for now. I’ll be back if I have other questions about Peter Gibson.”
“You know where I’ll be.” Sam glared at Nick, who glared right back at her. “Be sure to give Shelby our regards and let her know she’ll still get paid even if she’s not able to assist us with anything at the moment.” Shelby, their faithful assistant, was engaged to Avery.
“I’ll pass that along. She’s so pregnant she’s probably relieved to sit with her feet up and do nothing.” At the doorway, he stopped and turned to look at them. “I know this is hard on you guys. We’re doing everything we can to figure it out as fast as we can.”
“Try harder,” Sam said, aware that she was being a jerk but unable to work up the fortitude to care.
“I’ll be in touch.”
“You’ll have to stop by since you can’t call us down here.”
“Right,” Avery said before he left them.
“Do you really have to pitch a fit in front of him of all people?” Nick asked when they were alone.
“Pitch a fit? Is that what you call expressing my disbelief that an American citizen can be held by her government without her permission for days with no end in sight?”
“You’re being a little dramatic, babe.”
Sam’s brows shot up to meet her hairline. “I’m being dramatic? Don’t you think ordering a dragnet over a letter was a little dramatic?”
His expression hardened. “Not even kinda. You tell me what you would’ve done in my place if you’d been out of the country and found out everyone you love had been threatened with kidnapping and dismemberment.” As he spoke, his voice got louder and his eyes got darker, the way they did when he was turned on. Except now he was furious rather than turned on. “You would’ve done exactly what I did with the resources I have available to me.”
“As vice president—a job you claim to hate until it comes in handy.”
“You’re really going to throw that back in my face?”
“Yeah, I guess I am. I get why you did it, and I agree that I would’ve done the same thing in your place when I was out of the country. But you’re back now and we’re all safe. How long can you reasonably expect to keep us here, Nick? What if it takes a month to find the person who sent that letter?”
Sighing, he looked defeated when he said, “I don’t know. How do I let everyone out of here and go about my life with full protection while hoping whoever made the threat doesn’t make good on it with someone who isn’t protected?”
“Are you guys fighting?” Scotty asked in a small voice from the doorway.
Nick said “no” as Sam said “yes.”
After a second, the three of them laughed.
“I love how you fight about whether or not you’re fighting,” Scotty said, seeming relieved that they were at least laughing.
“This is a stressful situation for all of us, buddy,” Nick said. “No one wants to be stuck in this dungeon, least of all your mother.”
Scotty snorted with laughter. “She’s like a toddler in situations like this.”
“Um, excuse me, the toddler is in the room.”
His smile lit up his face and made his eyes dance with mischief.
Sam loved him so damned much. He always made everything better, even shitty situations like this one. “You know what I need right now?”
“Am I allowed to hear this?” Scotty asked.
“Ewww, knock it off, brat!”
“Well, I do have to witness an awful lot of kissing in my house. I’ve learned to be wary.”
“How does he know words like wary?” Sam asked Nick.
“It was your idea to send him to school,” he replied, making Scotty laugh again.
Sam rolled her eyes. “What I was going to say is I want to play one of those video games where I get to shoot people. I really need to shoot someone.”
“I can set you up,” Scotty said. “Step into my office.”
“He’s too smart for our own good,” Sam said to Nick as they followed their son into the common area where the Secret Service had placed Scotty’s game station. They knew what it would take to entertain him in the underground bunker.
“He’s perfect,” Nick said, his lips close to her ear.
She shivered from his touch. “He sure is.”
CHAPTER SEVEN (#u3e246bd7-aa16-5261-8947-fcb0bbd09212)
MUCH LATER, AFTER having had the satisfaction of shooting thousands of bad guys, Sam lay awake next to Nick, thinking it through from all possible angles. At times like this, it was nearly impossible to turn off her detective’s brain. Her dad always advised starting from the beginning when a case stalled out, so that’s what she did.
After months of having the agents close by at all times, one thing was clear to her—they didn’t overreact unless they had a damned good reason to. In the course of a week, they must get all kinds of threats against the first and second families. What had been so different about this one to warrant a reaction like this?
“What aren’t you telling me?” she asked, knowing Nick was still awake. His breathing was deeper when he was asleep.
“What do you mean?”
“It doesn’t add up. Your office receives a letter with a threat, and the Secret Service goes dragnet on us. How many threats do they receive directed at us and the Nelsons in a given week?”
“A lot. Brant told me they’ve had more threats toward me in six months than they had toward Gooding in three years.”
The thought of lunatics threatening her husband made her queasy. “Why such an uptick?”
“They think it was because I was appointed rather than elected.”
“What was different about this one?”
“I told you what it said.”
“You told me part of it. Now would be a great time to tell me what we’re really doing stuck in this cement prison.”
After a long silence, she heard his deep sigh. Then his hand found hers, and he linked their fingers. “The smudged postmark.”
“What about it?”
“The FBI has seen that particular mark once before in a threat that was traced to a faction of the Islamic State that’s known for brutality against women and children. They think there’s something in the timing of the letter being sent while I was in Iran, and they’ve got counterterrorism people looking into that angle.”
Sam’s mouth went dry, and her heart began to beat wildly. “Why didn’t you tell me this before now?”
“I didn’t see the point in scaring you further when everyone is with us and perfectly safe.”
Sam pulled her hand free of his. “You didn’t see the point. Remember how pissed you’d get when I kept things from you? You tell me we’re better than that, but I guess that only applies to my work, not yours.” She sat up and reached for the T-shirt she’d left at the foot of the bed.
“Where’re you going?”
“I want to talk to Brant about getting me out of here. I can’t help figure this out if I’m stuck down here.”
“You’re not leaving, Samantha.”
“You don’t get to decide that for me. I don’t have Secret Service protection. That was our deal when you took this job, and I expect you to honor our agreement. I don’t technically have to be here.” She pulled on shorts and jammed her feet into flip-flops.
“Please don’t do this.”
“What am I doing?”
“You’re putting me in an impossible position. I already feel impotent enough that I can’t do a fucking thing to protect my family, because I’m not allowed to breathe without the Secret Service’s permission.”
“That’s your situation. Not mine.”
“Sam, you’re my wife.”
“Do you honestly think I need you to tell me that? I know who I’m married to, and if someone threatens you and our loved ones, they threaten me too. All I’m asking for is a chance to do something about it rather than being trapped here with my thumb up my ass, hoping someone else will figure out who the fuck sent that letter. Let me go do what I do best.”
“No.”
“Again with the one-word answer.”
“The Secret Service won’t let you out of here unless I specifically authorize you to leave, so don’t try anything.”
She headed for the door to their room. “I hope you’re enjoying your little power trip.”
“Sam, come on...”
“Don’t tell me to come on. In fact, don’t say anything to me until you’re ready to tell me I can leave this hellhole.” She slammed the door shut behind her as she left the room and stormed through the dark corridor to the common area, where she ran into her stepmother, Celia, heading for the kitchen area.
“What’re you doing up?” Sam asked.
“Your dad is restless. I thought some tea might help.”
Sam was immediately on alert for trouble where her dad was concerned. “Is he okay?”
“I think so, but go ahead in and see for yourself. He’s awake.”
Sam returned to the dark hallway and knocked on the closed door to her dad’s room.
He called for her to come in.
Sam went in and closed the door behind her.
“What’re you doing up, baby girl?”
“Same as you. Can’t sleep. I’m going crazy in this place.”
“I wondered when you’d snap.”
“Are people placing bets?” Sam asked as she fell into a chair next to his hospital bed. She had to give the Secret Service props for seeing to everything they’d need in the hellhole.
“Graham suggested a pool, but I knew better than to take that bait.”
“You’re very funny tonight, Skippy.”
“Are you going to tell me what’s got you all wound up and fully dressed in the middle of the night?”
“I was gonna make a break for it.”
“Is that so? What stopped you?”
“My freaking husband, who apparently has all the power over this situation.”
“You can’t blame him for wanting to keep us safe.”
“I don’t blame him! But how long can they reasonably expect us to stay in this dungeon while they chase their own dicks trying to figure out who’s threatening us?”
Skip chuckled. “You do have a way with words, Sam.”
“You know I’m right. I bet I could get to the bottom of it in twenty-four hours. I’ve got too much crap going on to be stuck here. I’ve got a floater in the river and a freaking wedding to be in next weekend. Or is it this weekend? What the hell day is it, anyway?”
“Take a deep breath, Sam, and think it through from Nick’s perspective. He feels responsible for putting our family in the spotlight and making us vulnerable to threats. It has to be weighing heavily on him.”
“It is,” Sam said with a sigh, “but if he’d only let me out to do my own investigation, we might be able to get everyone out of here that much sooner.”
“How does he have a moment’s peace if you’re out there hunting down a possible terrorist while he’s sealed off in an underground bunker? How would any of us have a moment’s peace?”
“I’m going to lose my mind in here. Which would be worse? Me in danger or me in a mental institution?”
“It’s hard on all of us to be trapped this way. The kids are getting stir-crazy, and Angela is moaning about vitamin D deficiency.”
“There’s a possible tie to an Islamic faction known for brutality against women and children,” Sam said.
“Oh, damn...”
“Nick just told me that part.”
“So that’s what’s got you wound tighter than a two-dollar watch.”
“He’s Mr. Double Standard. God help us all if I keep something from him, but he thinks it’s perfectly fine to keep something like that from me.”
“He didn’t want you to worry any more than you already were.”
“Whose side are you on, anyway?”
“I’m always on your side, but I see Nick’s perspective in this one. He has to be regretting taking the job that caused such huge changes in both your lives. I have to admit that I don’t love your newfound notoriety. It makes an already-dangerous job a thousand times more so. Nick certainly knows that too, and it only adds to his already-considerable anxiety where your safety is concerned.”
“I know all that, and I hate that he suffers the way he does over my safety. I got a good idea of what he goes through the other day when I didn’t know why they were bringing me in or where he was or if he was safe. I get it. I really do.”
“What did Avery want earlier?”
“Believe it or not, he wanted to talk about Peter.”
Skip’s brows shot up to his hairline. “As in Peter Gibson?”
“The one and only.”
“What brought that on?”
“I had this crazy dream where everyone who hates me was after me, and he was there telling me I needed a dose of humility. When I woke up, I remembered that he used to say that to me, and I told Nick. He reported it to Brant, and thus Avery’s visit in which I got to revisit that entire unsavory chapter in my life with him of all people.”
“A tangled web you weave.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner, but I’ve stuffed him so deep into the past that I never give him a thought anymore.”
“You honestly think he’d have the stones to threaten the vice president of the United States?”
“Who knows? I never thought he’d try to blow me up.”
“He’s been quiet lately. I’d hoped we’d heard the last of him.”
“Avery said something that’s got me worried it might be him.”
“What’s that?”
“Peter might have a new ax to grind after I didn’t show up when they came to tell me, as his next of kin, that he’d tried to off himself. After all this time, he still had me listed as his next of kin, if you can believe that.”
“I can believe anything where he’s concerned. It must go up his ass sideways that you’re married to the vice president.”
“Why can’t he meet a nice, unhinged girl like him and turn his attentions toward her?”
“I’d imagine it’s because you’re hard to get over. Just ask your husband about that.”
“What’re we asking Sam’s husband?” Celia asked when she returned with Skip’s tea.
“About how hard my daughter is to get over.”
Sam shook her head. “You crack yourself up, don’t you, Skippy?”
“Well, it’s true.”
“I think it’s so sweet that neither of you ever forgot the first night you spent together,” Celia said.
“I’ll never forget the douche bag who kept me from Nick for all those years, and I swear to God, if he’s behind this threat, I’m going to single-handedly nail his ass to the wall this time.” Sam stood to give Celia the chair next to the bed so she could help Skip with the tea. Filled with nervous energy, Sam began to pace the small room. “I have an idea...”
“Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like this?” Skip asked.
“I need you to like it because it involves you.”
“How so?”
“What if you were to spike a fever that required immediate medical attention?”
“I can’t just flip a switch and make that happen.”
“They wouldn’t check. They’d take Celia’s word for it, and Nick would never stop me from accompanying you to the hospital. Once we get you there safely, I’ll slip away and figure out who the hell is threatening my family.”
Skip and Celia stared at her.
“What do you think?”
“No way,” Skip said.
“Come on, Dad! It would totally work to get us out of here, and you know I’d get to the bottom of this faster than the FBI ever will.”
“You honestly think I’m going to help you put yourself in danger?”
“I’m not going to be in any danger. They don’t want me. They threatened the kids.”
“If it is Peter, he most definitely wants you, and he’s using the kids to get to you because he knows they’re your Achilles’ heel.”
“He’s too stupid to get to me.”
“He almost blew you up!”
“Now I know what he’s capable of, and my squad can hunt him down and figure out whether he’s behind this. I won’t be doing it by myself, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’m worried about you getting yourself killed by going rogue against someone the Secret Service felt was a big enough threat to put us all in lockdown.”
“This was a massive overreaction if you ask me.”
“You’ll notice that no one asked you,” Nick said from the doorway.
“Oh, here he is, the one with all the power. What do you need, oh powerful one?”
“What’re you up to, Samantha?”
“Not a damned thing, thanks to the fact that I’m being held prisoner against my will.”
“Come with me,” he said in a stern tone he rarely used with her.
“What if I don’t want to?”
“I’m asking you to come with me.”
Sam glanced at her dad, who raised his brows in Nick’s direction, letting her know exactly whose side he was really on. She scowled at him but went to kiss him good-night anyway. “Get that fever in the morning,” she whispered in his ear. “Do it for me.” As she walked toward the door where her husband waited with a hard-to-read expression on his handsome face, she said, “Night, Celia.”
“Night, Sam. Try to get some sleep.”
Nick stepped back to let Sam go by and then followed her to their room.
“Everything all right, Mr. Vice President?” Brant asked from his post at the end of the long dark hallway.
“Yes,” Nick replied. “Thanks, Brant.”
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