by Marie Force
“You do the same.” She slapped her phone closed. “I love that guy.”
“You all but told him that just now.”
“How often do we get that kind of help from anyone?”
“Hardly ever.”
Sam’s phone rang again, this time with a call from Darren Tabor of the Washington Star. “You’re catching me in a rare good mood, Darren. What can I do for you?”
Her comment was met with total silence.
“Darren?”
“I’m here. Just processing the fact that you’re in a good mood.”
Freddie snorted with laughter.
“What’d you want?”
“A statement on the Beauclair case. The fire marshal won’t give me anything other than they suspect arson. Judging by the fact that you and the FBI are involved, that tells me they suspect murder. Can you confirm or deny?”
“Confirm. Jameson and Cleo Beauclair were definitely murdered.”
“Wow, that was unusually easy.”
“Like I said, I’m in a generous kind of mood.”
“Can you tell me how they were murdered or where you are in the investigation?”
“I can’t tell you how, but I can tell you we’re making good progress.”
“And is there any truth to the rumor that you have their two youngest kids staying with you?”
“I’m going to tell you the truth, Darren, but I’m going to do it off the record, okay?”
His groan echoed through the speakerphone. “Fine,” he said.
“My husband and I are acting as their foster parents at the moment, but they have family members arriving from out of state. It was a temporary arrangement.” Her heart hurt as she said the words. She did not look forward to saying goodbye to those precious kids.
“Why does that have to be off the record?”
“Because I crossed a number of lines by taking them in, and it’s an issue with the department. There’s also the possibility that they’re still in danger from whoever did this to their parents. My job is to keep them safe, and that’s what I’m going to do.”
“I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it. It was good of you to step up for them.”
“Try telling that to my brass. They don’t see it quite the same way.”
“Because it’s a conflict of interest.”
“So they say.”
“Heard a rumor that Gonzo’s in the hospital. Any truth to that?”
“Stomach flu,” Sam said. “They’re treating him for dehydration, but I’m sure he’d rather not see that in the paper.”
“He won’t.”
“Thank you, Darren.”
“Always a pleasure to speak with you, Sam.”
“Now that’s just a flat-out lie,” Freddie said, making them both laugh.
“My little Freddie is all grown-up and about to get married,” Sam said, dabbing at a fake tear.
“And no longer afraid of you, apparently.”
“That’s a problem,” Sam said.
“Congrats, Freddie,” Darren said. “Hope it’s a great day for you.”
“Thank you.”
“Over and out,” Sam said, closing the phone. To Freddie, she said, “Look at you with your wiseass comments.”
“Learned from the expert.”
“God, I’ve really made a mess of you, haven’t I?”
“Nah, you’ve helped to make a man out of me.”
“Jesus,” Sam muttered. “Don’t say that anywhere near HQ, or we’ll be the talk of the place.”
“No chance of that, and what have I asked you about using the lord’s name in vain?”
“When did I do that?”
“Like five seconds ago!”
“Sorry,” she said.
“Sure you are.”
“You really think I made a man out of you?”
“You helped. I had a lot to learn when we first partnered up. You’ve taught me everything that matters about the job and how to have this job and a life too.”
“Hmm, well, I do what I can for the people.”
He rolled his eyes at her predictable response.
“Let’s visit a few of Victor’s scumbag friends before we head back to the house. Maybe they can tell us what he’s been up to the last few days.”
Their first stop was at an apartment building off Massachusetts Avenue in a rough neighborhood full of run-down row houses, convenience stores and pawnshops.
“Should we have backup going in here?” Freddie asked, eyeing the building warily.
“Probably. Call it in.”
A Patrol car responded, appearing at the address about three minutes later.
“Look at this day,” she said, glancing in the mirror as the Patrol car pulled in behind her car, “cooperating with me in every possible way.”
“My partner taught me not to say stuff like that. It’ll jinx us.”
“Your partner is a wise, wise woman,” Sam said as they got out of the car to meet the two Patrol officers.
“So she likes to tell me. Frequently.”
Anthony Jenkins lived on the third floor, and as they trudged up the stairs, Sam strapped on her bulletproof vest while Freddie did the same. Behind them, the Patrolmen would provide additional cover. When everyone was in position outside the door to 3D with weapons drawn, Sam used a closed fist to pound on the door. “Metro PD. Open up.”
They heard scurrying sounds from inside the apartment.
Sam nodded to one of the Patrolmen, who took off down the stairs, in case their guy got a big idea about heading out the window. She pounded again. “Police. Open up.”
More scurrying, which only served to aggravate her.
“We’re going to take down this door if you don’t open up.”
Through the cheap thin door, she heard the distinctive sound of a gun engaging and acted before she thought, shoving Freddie out of the way as the door exploded in a blast of splinters. Her ears rang, and her left shoulder burned, but she reacted quickly to return fire, aiming low so as to incapacitate rather than kill.
“Lieutenant!” the Patrol officer behind her cried. “You’re hit.”
Inside the apartment, the shooter howled with pain and outrage. Through the shattered door, Sam could see him holding his bloody knee as he screamed.
“What the hell, Sam?” Freddie asked as he helped her up. “Why’d you do that?”
“Because you’re getting married in two days, and you’re not getting shot. Not this week.”
“I hate to be the one to tell you, but it looks like you did.”
She glanced down at the hot spot radiating from her shoulder, her vision swimming at the sight of the large patch of red that greeted her. “Crap. That’s gonna show in the pictures.”
Freddie shook his head, grabbed the radio attached to her hip and called for a bus.
“I don’t need a goddamned bus.”
“Yes, you do, and so does he.” Nodding toward the apartment where the Patrolman had cuffed the suspect, Freddie placed a hand over her wound and applied pressure that made her scream.
“What the fuck? Knock it off!”
“Shut up, Sam. And if you feel like you’re going to faint, lean into me.”
“I don’t have time for this shit today.”
“Then you shouldn’t have pushed me out of the way.”
“Don’t have time for you to get shot either. Got to keep you pretty for the wedding.” She wrestled free of his tight hold. “Wanna talk to this guy while I can.”
“Sam.”
She ignored him and marched into the apartment where a man with dark hair and tan skin lay on his side on the floor, hands cuffed behind him, writhing in pain. At one point, he might’ve been handsome, but now there was a hard, bitter edge to him. “Quit your whining,�
� Sam said. “If you hadn’t shot at us, none of this would’ve happened.”
“You shattered my knee, you fucking twat!”
“Awww, sticks and stones will break your bones, and apparently bullets will too. Who knew? Oh wait, everyone knows that.” Was it hot in there? It seemed really hot, and the ground was kind of shimmery. Sam shook off the weird feeling. “Where’s Victor Klein, Anthony?”
“I don’t know nobody named Victor.”
Sam glanced at the Patrolman, nodded to the bloody knee, and he pretended he was going to touch it.
Anthony let out a shriek. “Stop!”
Sam squatted so she’d be closer to him—and to the floor if she actually fell over. “Where is he?” She reached out her hand in a menacing claw aimed for his bloody knee.
“Don’t fucking touch it!”
“Then tell me where he is and don’t say you don’t know him. We know you do. If you hold out on us, we’ll add interfering with a murder investigation to the charges you’re already facing.”
Paramedics appeared in the doorway, but Sam held them back with a raised hand.
Seething with outrage, which was funny under the circumstances, Anthony said, “I don’t know where he is, and I don’t know nothing about no murder. He said he had to get outta here for a while, but he’d be back.”
“Who would know where he is?”
“How am I supposed to know?”
“I bet you’d like to have some pain meds right about now, wouldn’t you?” Sam asked as her shoulder began to ache like a bitch. “I can stay here all day while you bleed out on the floor.” She eased out of the crouch into a seated position and rested her injured left arm on her leg, which brought relief. “I got nothing better to do.”
Freddie glared at her from the doorway.
She began to whistle a catchy tune to entertain herself and hopefully aggravate Jenkins. To the paramedic standing in the doorway, Sam said, “How long does it take to bleed out from a leg injury?”
“If the bullet nicked the femoral,” one of them said, “not long at all. Minutes.”
“Talk to Danny Baker,” Anthony said through gritted teeth. “He’s Victor’s best friend.”
“See how easy that was?” When the paramedics would’ve advanced into the apartment, Sam held them off. “Where will we find Baker?”
“He works at a pizza place called Rolling in Dough in Southeast. I don’t know where he lives.”
She waved in the paramedics. “I can’t thank you enough for your help and cooperation.” To the Patrol officer, she said, “Stay with him and get him processed as soon as he’s medically able.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
One of the paramedics homed in on her. “You’re bleeding profusely, Lieutenant.” Before she could tell him to leave her alone, he pressed on the wound and she passed out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
FREDDIE CALLED NICK as he followed the ambulance through midday traffic, bobbing and weaving around cars that wouldn’t get the hell out of the way.
“Hey, Freddie. What’s up?”
“She’s fine, but Sam got grazed by a bullet to the shoulder. At least I think she was only grazed. There was a lot of blood.”
“Grazed by a bullet? Isn’t that the same as shot?”
“She was totally fine afterward, busting the balls of the guy we were after, but she passed out and is in an ambulance on the way to GW.”
“I’ll head over there right away. Thanks for calling.”
“No problem. See you there.” After he ended the call with Nick, he called Elin, who’d wisely taken this week off from work and had encouraged him to do the same. Next time, he would listen to her.
“Hey, babe,” she said when she answered, sounding breathless.
“What’re you doing?”
“Working out.”
Freddie loved to watch her work out—and he loved to have sex with her afterward, when she was still sweaty. But he couldn’t think about that. Not now anyway.
“Freddie? Are you there? What’s wrong?”
“Sam got shot. She’s okay, but they’re taking her to GW.”
“Oh jeez. This is turning out to be quite a week.”
“That’s not all. Gonzo is out of the wedding party.”
“What? Why?”
“He’s going to rehab.”
“For what?”
“Apparently, he’s been numbing the loss of Arnold with painkillers.”
“Oh God, Freddie.”
“I know this is far bigger than the wedding, but we’re left with an opening. Sam suggested I ask Will.”
“He would do it.”
“I know he would, but I actually have someone else in mind.”
“Who?”
“Nick.”
“As in Nick, the vice president?”
“As in Nick, who was my friend long before he was the vice president.”
“Still. You think he’d do it?”
“Yeah, I think he would.”
“So, you’re going to ask him?”
“If I get the chance. He’s got a lot going on right now.”
“You want me to come to the hospital? I will if you want me to.”
“Nah, no need. I won’t be there long with the case heating up.”
“Okay, let me know how she is.”
“I will, and babe, you were right. I should’ve taken this week off.”
“Oh, Freddie. Don’t you know by now that I’m always right?”
“Jeez, I walked right into that, didn’t I?”
Her laughter made him smile. “How’s the hand?”
“Still really sore, but not as bad as it was yesterday.”
“Glad to hear it’s better. I’ll let you know what time I’ll be home.”
“I’ll be waiting for you while I wrestle with the seating chart.”
“That sounds like fun.”
“Not so much but our wedding will be. That’s for sure.”
“I can’t wait.”
“Neither can I. Love you, Freddie.”
“Love you too.” As he ended the call with her, he took one from Captain Malone. “Hey, Cap.”
“What the hell happened?”
Freddie told him what’d gone down in Jenkins’s apartment building.
“Ugh, she could’ve been killed.”
Freddie tightened his grip on the wheel of Sam’s car while trying not to think about what could’ve happened. “She got him to roll on another of Klein’s associates. As soon as I confirm she’s okay, I’m going back out to track down Klein.”
“Green and McBride are on their way to GW to check on the lieutenant and meet up with you. The three of you stay together. Crime scene got DNA off dishes in the sink that differs from what was taken from the victims and their children. That might help us put this one away.”
“I sure hope so.” Freddie agreed with Sam—whatever it took to not have to use Alden as a witness.
“Keep me posted on the lieutenant and what you guys are doing.”
“I will.”
At the GW E.R., the same nurse who’d been on duty the day before waved at him to follow her to the cubicle where Sam was being treated.
“Fucking hell,” Sam said, “that burns like a motherfucker.”
Yep, he thought. She’s fine—and thank God for that. Freddie stepped into the crowded room where Anderson and a nurse were tending to the wound on Sam’s left arm.
Sam’s gaze locked on him. “Get out of here and go find Klein! Right now!”
“That’s the plan as soon as I confirmed you’re okay.”
“I’m fine. Go. I’ll meet you in thirty minutes. Let me know where you are.”
“You need stitches, Lieutenant,” Anderson said in a long-suff
ering tone. “That’s going to take more than thirty minutes.”
“No stitches,” Sam said. “Butterfly it. I got shit to do, and I’m in his wedding this weekend. I don’t need a big ugly wound on my arm.”
“I’m glad to see that as always your priorities are straight, Lieutenant,” Anderson said dryly.
“I’m getting sick of people discussing my priorities today,” Sam said.
“I, uh, I called Nick,” Freddie said, wincing. “He’s on his way.”
Sam groaned and tipped her head back on the pillow.
“I figured you’d rather he hear it from me than on the news.”
“Yeah, I guess. Thanks for calling him and making sure I’ll get a full lecture before I can go back to work.”
“Sorry.”
“Go. Get me Klein, and all is forgiven.”
“I’m on it.” Freddie turned to leave the room, and as he was exiting the emergency department, Nick’s motorcade pulled up. Freddie waited to have a word with the vice president.
Nick got out before his agent Brant, who gave him a foul look behind his back. “How is she?”
“Totally fine, pissed off and barking out orders to the doctor.”
Nick smiled as he sagged with relief. “Sounds like business as usual.”
“Yep. She ordered me back on the case.”
“Thanks for the call, Freddie. I appreciate it even if she doesn’t.”
“Gee, how’d you guess?”
Nick laughed. “I know my wife.”
“She pushed me out of the way,” Freddie said.
“What do you mean?”
“The bullet would’ve hit me, but she pushed me so it hit her instead of me. She said she couldn’t let me get shot the week of my wedding.”
Nick stared at him, incredulous. “So, she got shot.”
“Thankfully, it only grazed her arm.”
“Thankfully indeed.”
“I know you want to get in and see her, but could I ask you something real quick?”
“Sure.”
“I find myself in need of a last-minute groomsman, and since you probably own your own tux, I thought I might ask if you’d mind...”
Nick’s smile stretched across his face. “I’d be honored, Freddie. Truly.”
“Really? Thanks so much. I really appreciate this and the use of the Naval Observatory, which is just the coolest thing ever.”
