by Marie Force
“Are you Bryce Massey?”
“I am.”
Sam and Freddie went down the stairs and showed their badges.
“Lieutenant Holland, Detective Cruz, Metro PD.”
“Is this about Tara?”
“It is. Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
“Sure,” he said, sighing. “Come on in.”
They followed him back up the stairs, where he used a key to open the door. Inside, he turned on lights and showed them to a formal front living room that people kept for guests—and cops. They did a lot of interviews in those formal living rooms.
“How did you hear that Tara had been killed?” Sam asked.
“Delany called me. She said Tara would’ve wanted me to know. She called a couple of hours ago. I left work, and I’ve been walking ever since. I just can’t believe she’s gone.”
“When was the last time you saw her?”
“It’s got to be six or seven months ago. Before she was showing. I had no idea she was pregnant until I heard the news about Nelson and the baby.”
“So you didn’t know she’d had an affair with him?”
“Ah, no, I didn’t know that, but it’s not like she would’ve called to tell me. We texted from time to time, but we weren’t in close contact after we broke up.”
“And when did that happen?”
“Last year, around the time she joined the Nelson campaign.”
“Her parents told us you and she were on again, off again. Is that an accurate description?”
“They don’t think I had anything to do with this, do they?” He seemed stricken by the possibility.
“Her father was quite adamant that you wouldn’t have had anything to do with it. We explained to them that we’re required to dot the i’s and cross the t’s, which is what we’re doing.”
“I could never have hurt her. I loved her. She was the love of my life, but she wanted to move things along faster than I did. She wanted kids. I wasn’t there yet. My career...” He dropped his head into his hands. “It all seems so stupid now.”
“What do you do for a living?” Sam asked.
“I’m a lawyer for the World Bank.”
“Do you still have a key to her place?”
“Nope. She took it back when we broke up.”
“Did you make a copy of it?”
“Absolutely not. I’d never do something like that.”
She wasn’t sure she believed him. “Where were you today?”
“At work all day. I got there at seven, and I left after I got the call about Tara. You can confirm that with my assistant.”
“We’ll need his or her name and contact info.”
He seemed startled that she intended to confirm it. Of course she would confirm it. People lied to their faces all the time. “Um, yeah, sure.” He rattled off the woman’s name and number, which Freddie wrote down.
“Can you think of anyone else in Tara’s life who might’ve had a beef with her?”
“I imagine the president isn’t having a good week now that the whole world knows they were together.”
“Anyone else?”
“Not that I can think of, but like I said, I wasn’t in close touch with her recently.”
Sam handed her card to him. “If you think of anything else, my cell number is on there.”
“Tara, she was... She was a sweetheart. People liked her. I can’t imagine anyone hurting her this way.” His eyes glittered with unshed tears. “How can she be gone forever?”
“We’re sorry for your loss, Mr. Massey. Please let us know if you think of anything else that might be relevant to our investigation.”
They went outside where the temperature had dropped considerably. Sam zipped her coat up and pulled gloves from her pockets. “Impressions?”
“One in particular.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“If she was the love of his life, how did he let her get away?”
“From the sound of it, she wanted kids right away and he didn’t.”
“Think about it, Sam. If it was a choice between having Nick and losing Nick, wouldn’t you compromise so everyone got what they wanted? I would’ve done that for Elin because living without her isn’t an option for me.”
“You make a good point,” Sam said.
“I know I do.”
“Stop being smug and tell me what it means that he let her get away, and now she’s dead after having an affair with the president and giving birth to a baby who may or may not be the offspring of the president.”
“That I don’t know, but all I do know is that if Elin had given me that kind of ultimatum, I would’ve said, okay, babe, whatever you want.”
“Even if you weren’t ready for kids?”
“I would’ve done whatever it took to make her happy. If she was truly the love of his life, he would’ve done the same. That’s all I’m saying.”
Sam thought about that, recalling the six long years she’d wondered about Nick after the first night they met. “You’re right. If he was able to let her go, she wasn’t the one for him.”
“I know I’m right.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Does that take him off our list of suspects who could’ve killed her?”
“I think it does, because if he didn’t care enough about her to keep her from getting away, would he care enough to kill her when she had a baby with someone else?”
“Probably not. I still want to dig into him and make sure we’re not missing something. Pass that on to Carlucci and Dominguez to take care of tonight as well as reaching out to his assistant to confirm he was at work all day. In the morning, we need to pull Tara’s financials and check with Archie to see if he’s found Tara’s cell and what the security footage showed.”
“Got it and will do it. Are we done?”
“For now.” Back in the day, she would’ve spent all night working a new case. Now she had a husband and family to get home to and two third-shift detectives who could move the ball down the field overnight. “Am I dropping you at HQ?”
“Nah, I’ll take the Metro. It’ll get me home sooner.”
“Give my best to Mrs. Cruz.”
He grinned like a loon. “That, too, never gets old.”
She wanted to groan or gag or roll her eyes again, but she managed to restrain herself. “Don’t sprain something, Romeo.”
“I’ll try not to.” And then he was gone with a grin and a wave as he jogged toward the Metro, eager to get home to his gorgeous wife. The two of them were ridiculously happy, which made her happy, not that she could tell him that. He was already on the verge of becoming completely unmanageable, but she wouldn’t have him any other way.
As she turned to walk to her car, she nearly crashed into Bryce Massey, who’d emerged from his home in running clothes. He had buds hanging from his ears and reached out to steady her after their collision.
He pulled one of the buds out of his ear. “Sorry about that. Didn’t realize you were still out here.”
“I was talking to my partner.” A tinge of unease traveled down her backbone. “I’ll, ah, let you get going on your run.” If the love of her life had been murdered that day, the last thing she’d be doing would be going for a run, but different strokes for different folks.
He reached for her arm and the tinge became actual alarm.
Sam glared at his hand on her, and he wisely dropped it before she was forced to break it.
“I was going to ask you earlier... Why don’t you have a Secret Service detail?”
She forced herself to make eye contact. “Because I don’t need one. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. You should take off before I have no choice but to arrest you for being weird.”
Hands up, he took a step back. “I’m sorry.”
“Here’s a piece of advice for you. When cops have just interviewed you about the murder of your ex-girlfriend, it’s a good idea to keep your hands to yourself if you encounter one of those cops on the sidewalk. It’s also a good idea not to ask why said cop doesn’t have a Secret Service detail because that leads the cop to wonder why you’d want to know such things.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Take off, Mr. Massey. And go that way.” She pointed in the opposite direction of where her car was parked.
Thankfully, he did as he was told and jogged off in the other direction. She watched until he’d rounded the corner of the next block before she turned and headed for her car, her steps quicker than usual, her heart pounding a little harder than it normally would. The second she was in her car, she hit the locks and called Freddie.
“Didn’t I just leave you?”
“Yeah, and right after you did I had a weird encounter with Massey.”
“Define ‘weird,’” he said, his tone serious.
She told him what’d happened.
“Did you get the feeling he was trying to intimidate you?”
“Not particularly, but it had that effect anyway. Tell Carlucci and Dominguez to take a hard look at him. I want to know what size tighty-whities he wears.”
“Will do. Are you okay?”
“Of course I am.” He didn’t need to know her hands were shaking or that her heart was beating crazy fast.
“I apologize for asking.”
“As you should.”
“I’ll call Carlucci now. We’ll get you a tighty-whities size by morning.”
“Thanks.”
“Sam—”
“Don’t make it into a thing. It wasn’t a thing.”
“If you say so.”
“I say so, and I’m the boss.”
“As if I could ever forget that. Call me if you need anything.”
“I will. Have a good night.”
“You too.” She slapped the phone closed, ending another long day on the job. Or so she thought. The phone rang two seconds after the satisfying slap. “Holland.”
“It’s me.” Malone. “Conklin wants to talk to us again.”
“About what?”
“The defense attorney, Dunning, didn’t say.”
“Well, since we just caught a new homicide, maybe Mr. Conklin should have to chill for a bit until we have time for him.”
Malone snorted. “I had a feeling you might say that.”
“As much as I want to know what he knows, I refuse to treat him like some kind of VIP prisoner.”
“Agreed. We’ll get to it when we get to it.”
“But we’ll get to it sometime tomorrow.”
“Sounds good. What’s up with the Weber investigation?”
“Nothing much yet. Following the leads, pulling the threads, doing what I do.” She decided not to mention the creepy encounter with Massey. It would be enough that Freddie knew. She didn’t need everyone up in her grill about it. She’d handled it the way she always did, by taking care of herself. “I’m heading home now, but Carlucci and Dominguez have been given a long list of marching orders.”
“Let’s meet in the morning to go over what we have so far.”
“I’ll be there.” Sam slapped the phone closed again, hoping that was it for today. She pushed the gas pedal down, eager to see the twins before they went to bed. Arriving at the Ninth Street Secret Service checkpoint twelve minutes later, she let out a groan when she saw the street lined with media trucks. She laid on the horn to let the crowd of reporters know she was prepared to mow them down to get past them.
The agents working the checkpoint came out of the little building they had erected to protect them from the elements and began clearing a path for her.
Give her Homicide over what reporters did any day and twice on Sunday. How could they waste their lives hanging outside someone’s home hoping for a comment they weren’t going to get?
Sam inched forward until she cleared the checkpoint, sighing with exasperation when she saw it had taken seven valuable minutes to pull onto her own damned street. That was seven minutes she could’ve spent with her family. She parked and got out of the car, ignoring the shouts from the jackals who wanted to know where the investigation stood, if the president had killed his mistress, if she and Nick were prepared to move to the White House.
Utter madness.
As she took the ramp to her house, she looked up to find her gorgeous husband waiting in the doorway for her. That was all it took, the sight of him, to erase the aggravation, frustration and generally bitchy mood she’d brought home with her.
“Sorry about that, babe.” He drew her into his embrace as she came through the door, mindless of the agent standing nearby.
Sam didn’t even get a chance to see which agent it was or to say hello.
Nick whisked her away, into the sanctuary that was their home, their refuge from the insanity of their lives. “Are you okay?”
She took a deep breath and wallowed in the scent of home—cologne, starch and the unmistakable fragrance that was his alone. Her love, her life, her everything. “I am now.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
NICK HELD HER for a long time, long enough to clear her mind and switch gears from out there to in here. “I want to see the twins and Scotty before bed.”
“I was just going to read the twins a story. You want to come up?”
She was starving, but she wouldn’t miss story time for anything. “Let’s do it.”
Alden and Aubrey were tucked into bed with books they were “reading” to each other when Sam and Nick appeared at the doorway.
He held her back for a second, not wanting to interrupt the adorableness of their little voices coming from behind one of the picture books that had come from their home.
Her heart melted at the sound of Alden attempting to read to his sister, using inflections and voices that she suspected had come from hearing their parents read the book, which was a favorite of theirs.
Only because it was getting late did Nick clear his throat to let them know they were there.
“May we join you?”
“Sam!” As usual, Aubrey’s face lit up with pleasure at the sight of Sam. “You’re home!”
Sam adored them both, and almost couldn’t recall what it had been like before they were part of her life and deeply imprinted upon her heart. “I’m so sorry I’m late.”
“That’s okay.” Aubrey moved closer to Alden to make room for Sam.
Children, she had found, were endlessly forgiving toward the people they loved, and thank God for that.
Nick scooted in next to Alden. “You were doing a great job,” he said to the little guy. “You want to keep going?”
“Okay.” Alden turned the page and continued the story.
Sam wondered if he was reading or reciting it from memory. Either way, he got it just about right.
His sister hung on his every word while Sam ran her fingers through the little girl’s silky blond hair.
Nick caught her eye over their heads, a smile stretching across his handsome face. This was what he’d always wanted, a family of his own, and now they had that with the twins and Scotty. Nothing made her happier than having had a hand in giving him something he’d never had before.
They’d taken a lot of flak for bringing the twins into their family—from the children’s extended family, who hadn’t wanted anything to do with them until after their parents’ murderers had been apprehended, to the politicians who’d tried to make an issue out of providing two innocent children with Secret Service protection. It had been worth the drama to make the adorable children and their older brother, Elijah, a part of their family.
For the longest time, Sam had thought she had to give birth in order t
o have a family. Now she knew better. Not everyone was meant to have children the traditional way. Sometimes the best families are the ones we choose for ourselves. She and Nick had chosen to adopt Scotty and they had chosen to provide a home for Alden and Aubrey when they needed a place to be after their parents were murdered. Sam had no doubt that those two choices would be among the best ones she ever made, along with the choice to marry Nick—as if that had been an actual choice. Since she couldn’t live without him, she’d done the only thing she could and made sure he could never get away.
Not that he wanted to. Neither of them wanted to be anywhere but right here with the three children who were now their family.
Aubrey popped her thumb in her mouth, which meant she would be asleep in minutes.
Sam continued to stroke her hair, all the while hoping she was giving the children a fraction of the love and attention they’d gotten from their late parents.
Alden yawned twice in rapid succession.
“Let’s call it a night, bud,” Nick said.
Alden turned on his side, cuddled up to Aubrey and closed his eyes.
Sam and Nick kissed both of them, shut off the bedside light, made sure the night-light was on and sneaked out of the room.
“I can’t handle the cuteness,” Nick whispered.
“I’m on overload. They’re so sweet.”
“Thank God we get to keep them.”
“Right? Let’s go see our teenager.”
Darcy, the agent on duty in the hallway, nodded to them.
Sam knocked on Scotty’s door, and when he said to come in, she opened the door and stuck her head in. “Are parents welcome at the moment?”
“Visiting hours are over, but we’ll make an exception for you.”
Smiling at his witty reply, she stepped inside and Nick followed, closing the door behind him. Privacy was a tough thing to come by in their house these days, but they worked around the constant presence of the Secret Service.
“How was your day?” Sam sat on the edge of his bed. He had the Redskins game muted on his TV while he worked on some homework in bed.
“Long and boring. How many years until I can take classes that actually interest me?”
“Ahhh...” Sam glanced at Nick. She’d learned to let him answer school-related inquiries since her comments undercut their goal of seeing their son through college. But first he had to conquer eighth grade.
