by Marie Force
“What? To hide the fact that you knew who shot my dad for nearly four years?”
“None of it,” he said softly. “I didn’t intend for any of this to happen.”
“Why don’t you tell me how it did happen.”
“Paul,” Dunning said, the warning clear.
Conklin shook off Dunning’s hand from his shoulder. “I replaced one addiction with another. I got in so deep with the gambling that I couldn’t find my way out. Gallagher and Ryan... They owned me.”
“How did they find out that Skip was taking another look at Steven’s shooting before he retired?” Malone asked.
“I have to stop this right here,” Dunning said. “It’s not in my client’s best interest to have this conversation.”
“I need to have it,” Conklin said. “I need people to understand that I never would’ve...”
“What wouldn’t you have done? Hidden the truth from your colleagues, your friend’s family, the city that’s paid your salary for thirty years? You wouldn’t have done that?”
“No,” he said softly. “Under normal circumstances, I never would’ve done that. But they owned me.”
“Who else knew that?” Sam asked again, staring at him without blinking.
“I told you. I don’t know.”
She leaned in. “Guess what? I don’t believe you. So you know what happens now? We rip apart your life and your wife’s life, and we find out who else knew.”
“Leave Kaitlyn out of it. She knew nothing about any of this.”
“So you say.”
“It’s the truth!”
Sam laughed and glanced at Malone, who seemed equally disgusted. “He wants us to believe him now.” She stood. “Let’s go, Captain. We’ve got work to do.”
On legs that felt wooden, Sam walked out of the room. She made it halfway down the hallway that led out of the interrogation area before leaning against a wall to collect herself as the adrenaline from the interview drained from her system, leaving her shaky.
“You okay?” Malone asked.
“I need a minute.”
“Take as much time as you need.”
“I’ll catch up to you in a few.”
Nodding, he left her and headed toward his office.
Sam made her way to the pit and went straight to her office, closing the door behind her. She sat in the chair behind her desk and tried to get herself together. Even more than a week after the truth had been revealed, it was still surreal to sit in a room with Conklin, with the awareness that while she’d spent years hunting down her father’s shooter, he’d had the truth and kept it to himself.
He’d let her chase her tail like a crazy person while continuing to regularly visit her dad as the longtime friend he’d been to all of them. That was the worst part, in her mind. That he’d dared to cross Skip Holland’s threshold, pretending to be a friend to him in his time of need, when he’d been partially responsible for putting him in that chair to begin with.
The thought of that man in her father’s house made her feel sick, so much so that she feared she might vomit into the trash can next to her desk.
How could he live with himself, she wondered, seeing Skip in a wheelchair, confined to the first floor of his home, his once-vibrant life reduced so greatly? Had it haunted Conklin’s days and kept him awake at night? She would never be able to keep that kind of secret, no matter the consequences for herself. If someone was threatening her life to keep something like that quiet, she’d rather be killed than sit on information that would bring peace and closure to a victim’s family—especially if that victim was a longtime friend.
Unfathomable.
A knock on the door jolted her out of her thoughts. “Come in.”
Freddie stepped into the office, closing the door. Her partner was tall, dark, handsome and ridiculously in love with his new wife. Thinking about Freddie and Elin was much better than wondering how Conklin could’ve done what he did to all of them.
He leaned against the door. “Heard you saw Conklin.”
“Yeah.”
“How’d that go?”
“As you might imagine. He’s sorry, didn’t mean for this to happen... Yada, yada.”
“Whatever.” Freddie’s normally kind brown eyes were hard. He’d loved and respected Skip, and her dad’s death had been difficult for him too. “Did he give you anything?”
She shook her head. “He has no idea who could’ve sent the anonymous note.”
“He knows exactly where it came from.”
“I think so too.”
“So what’s the plan?”
She loved that he knew she’d have a plan and wanted in on it. That was one of many reasons why he was the best partner she’d ever had. “We’re going to dig into him—and his wife. I want to know every officer he interacted with outside of work, to start with. If the wife was friends with any of their wives, I want to know.”
“We’ll get on that.” His hard-eyed gaze softened as he studied her. “Are you okay?”
“I will be. Eventually.”
“You don’t have to be the one to confront these guys, you know. You have people who’d be more than happy to take care of that for you.”
“I know, and I appreciate that, but I needed to do this one myself.”
“I understand.”
“I was just sitting here wondering how he could live with himself, especially after seeing my dad so diminished.”
“I wouldn’t have been able to do it.”
“Me either. What else is he sitting on?”
“You think there’s more?”
“If he’d sit on something like this, the shooting of one of his closest friends, how much you want to bet that wasn’t all he was keeping to himself?”
“Jeez,” Freddie said, sagging a bit. “It’s already bad enough. I can’t imagine it getting any worse.”
“I know,” she said, sighing. They might never know the full extent of how Conklin had betrayed them all, but if Sam ever caught an inkling of anything else, she’d fully pursue it. She hoped he spent the rest of his life in prison for what he’d done to all of them.
“Have you seen the papers today?”
“Just the front-page crap about Nelson. Why?”
“There’s all kinds of stuff about the department, the dual scandals surrounding Stahl’s trial and the charges against Conklin, and what kind of shop Joe Farnsworth is running over here at HQ.”
“As if it’s his fault that they turned out to be criminals.”
“We know it’s not his fault, but try telling the mayor that. She’s on fire over it and possibly gunning for his job.”
Hearing that didn’t do much to help the sick feeling in Sam’s stomach. She couldn’t imagine doing this job without Joe Farnsworth’s support. If he got pushed out, maybe the timing would coincide with Nick becoming president, and it would be a good time for her to retire her badge. The thought made her want to break into hysterical laughter.
“My dad is being honored after the holidays by the city’s Little League for his years of support for the program. I included you and Elin in the ticket count. No pressure though.”
“Of course we want to go. Thanks for including us.”
“You were like a son to him.” Sam glanced up in time to see his emotional reaction to her comment. “You have to know that.”
Freddie nodded. “I did, and it was one of the greatest honors of my life to get to spend time with him and learn from him. Every day I wake up and have to remind myself that he’s actually gone. I can’t imagine how hard that must be for you.”
“It’s hard for all of us who loved him. People say that going quick the way he did is better for him, but for those of us left behind... It’s going to take a while for it to really sink in.”
“I guess so. Cleaning
up the case is helping me. I hope it does the same for you.”
“I really, really want to know who sent that note. I want to know who else had this info for four years and didn’t see fit to share it.”
“We’ll get on it.”
“Hey, so how’s O’Brien working out so far?”
“So far so good. He fits right in, which we knew he would.”
“Good. Glad to hear it. Keep an eye on him and let me know if he needs anything.”
“I will.”
The extension on Sam’s desk rang, and she took the call.
“Lieutenant.”
She sat up straighter at the sound of the chief’s voice. “Yes, sir. What can I do for you?”
“Come by the office when you get a minute?”
Did he sound weird? And why was he calling her himself when his admin, Helen, usually made calls for him. “Of course. I’ll be right there.”
“Thank you.”
The line went dead, and she replaced the receiver on the desktop unit.
“What’s up?” Freddie asked.
“The chief wants to see me.”
“He called you himself?”
“Yeah, and he sounded weird.” She dropped her head into her hands. “What’s this going to be now?”
“I hope to God he’s not going to resign.”
She forced herself to rally, standing as she sighed. “You and me both.”
Her greatest hope was that neither her boss nor Nick’s would resign anytime soon. Or ever, for that matter.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SAM WALKED FROM the pit to the main lobby, where she ran into Malone, who seemed to be heading in her direction.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“The chief called and asked me to come by.”
“He called you himself?”
Sam nodded. “And he sounded weird.”
Malone’s deep sigh did nothing to settle her nerves. “He’s sounded weird the last few days as the firestorm swirled around him.”
“I absolutely hate that people are blaming him for shit he had nothing to do with.”
“I know, but that’s how it goes, unfortunately.”
“Do you think it would matter if I went on the record saying no one in my family blames him for what Conklin or Stahl did? I could say that we never could’ve gotten through the last four years without his support and that of the department.”
“Couldn’t hurt, but see what he has to say before you do anything.”
“I’d do it if it would make a difference.”
“And we all know how much you love talking to the press.”
Sam forced a smile even as her heart lodged in her throat. The chief could not resign. He absolutely couldn’t. “You want to come with me to see him?”
“He didn’t invite me.”
“I’ll tell him I did.”
“Sure, I’ll tag along, but only because I’m nosy.”
Sam was irrationally relieved to have the captain with her as she walked toward the chief’s suite of offices and nodded to Helen.
“Go ahead in,” Helen said. “He’s expecting you.”
Did she sound weird too, or was Sam imagining that?
She knocked on the door, and when the chief called out for her to come in, she opened the door and ducked her head in. “Is it okay that I brought the captain?”
“Yeah,” Chief Farnsworth said. “It’s fine.”
The two of them walked in, and the captain closed the door behind him.
“What’s up?” Sam asked.
“Heard you met with Conklin. I was wondering what that was about.”
“He asked to see me because he wanted to apologize. You can imagine how that went. I’m trying to figure out who sent the anonymous note during the investigation, the one that told us to look inside our own house and City Hall. Someone else knew that people inside the department had information pertaining to my dad’s case, and I want to know who.”
“I’d like to know that too, although once we find out, the press will have even more arrows to aim at me and my lackluster leadership of the department.”
He didn’t sound weird in person, Sam decided, but he did sound depressed, disheartened, demoralized. Not that she could blame him for any of those things. She felt the same way knowing the answers they’d needed for so long had been right under their noses. Taking a seat in front of his desk, she considered her words carefully. “The people who matter know the truth, Chief.”
“For all the good that does me in the court of public opinion.” As he spoke, he fiddled with a pen in an aimless way that was contrary to his normal sharp, focused demeanor. “I’ve got a lieutenant about to be convicted of attempted murder, among other felonies—or at least he’d better be—and a deputy chief charged with multiple felonies. It’s not a good look on me or any of us.”
“In a department of this size, these things will happen,” Malone said.
The chief raised a brow. “In the top leadership?”
“Would it help if I released a statement making it clear that no one in my family blames you for what Conklin did and that we never would’ve gotten through the four years of my father’s injury without your support and that of the department?”
Farnsworth appeared to give that consideration. “It might be better coming from Celia rather than you.”
“I’m sure she’d be happy to do it. I’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks for the sentiment. Even if it doesn’t put out the firestorm, it helps me cope with it to know you feel that way.”
“We all feel that way, Chief. You were my dad’s best friend. You wanted his case solved as badly as we did.”
“I really did. If I’d had any idea...”
“You don’t have to say it. We know. I’m worried you’re letting them get to you, and that’s not usually your style.”
“It’s hard not to take the criticism to heart in this case. Conklin was my deputy chief, my close friend. I deserve the crap coming at me.”
“How do you deserve it?” Malone asked. “You didn’t know what he was hiding.”
“I misjudged him for all these years.”
“We all did,” Malone said. “Skip did. He welcomed him into his home, almost weekly after the shooting. Would he have done that if he’d had the slightest inkling that Conklin held the key to the entire thing?”
“No, but—”
“No buts. Sir. You had no way to know your deputy was hiding information that would lead to him being charged as an accessory to murder.” Malone’s forceful statement seemed to get the chief’s attention. “This is not your fault, and if you quit, you’ll be handing the haters an easy victory.”
“I think I’ve had enough.”
“No,” Sam said. “No, you haven’t. You’re grief-stricken from the loss of Dad, and you’re shocked by what Conklin did. People say you shouldn’t do anything rash after a big loss. Don’t make any big decisions, they say. That applies to you too. If you go out like this, it’ll haunt you when the grief fades and the anger recedes. You’ll regret it.”
“She’s right,” Malone said. “This isn’t the time to make any big decisions.”
“When did our young lieutenant get so wise?” Farnsworth asked Malone, as if Sam wasn’t sitting right there.
“Around the time she married up,” Malone said.
Farnsworth laughed—hard—and Sam exhaled for the first time since she entered his office.
“Now that’s more like it,” Sam said.
“I hear what you guys are saying,” the chief said, “and I appreciate the wisdom as well as the counsel.”
“So you’re not going to quit?” Sam asked. That was the only thing he hadn’t said for sure and the one thing she needed to know so she’d be able to sleep that
night.
“Not today.”
“You’ll talk to us before you do anything?” Malone asked.
“I will.”
“I know you’d normally talk to Dad about something like this,” Sam said, hoping she wasn’t out of line for what she was about to suggest. “I know I’m no substitute, but I’m here if you need me.”
He shot her a wry look full of amusement and affection. “Why do you think I called you?”
She was unreasonably touched by the sentiment. “Oh, um, well, I’m glad you thought of me when you needed a friend.”
“You’re not alone in this office, Joe,” Malone said, “despite how it might seem at times. A lot of people around here have got your back.”
“That’s good to know, and this helped.”
“Anytime,” Malone said. “We’re always here for you.”
Sam stood. “I’ll talk to Celia about issuing a statement.”
“Thanks. And by the way, I hear you’re trying to poach my amazing Officer Charles, and you can’t have her.”
“I need her, Uncle Joe.”
He rolled his eyes at her shameless use of the name she’d called him as a child. “I need her more.”
Sam flashed her most charming grin. “Will you think about sharing her with a friend?”
The chief’s brows furrowed as he scowled. “Maybe. We’ll see.”
Sam clapped her hands and glanced at Malone. “Maybe means yes.”
Farnsworth wasn’t having it. “Maybe means maybe. Now get back to work and keep me posted on what you find out about the anonymous note.”
“I will,” Sam said.
She walked out with Malone, past Helen’s inquiring gaze, and waited until they were out of earshot of her or anyone before she spoke. “Did we just talk him off the cliff?”
“I think we did. You were spot-on in there. What you said about not making any rash decisions was good advice.”
“He would regret it when the dust settles. The Post article threw gas on a simmering fire.” The newspaper had published an article detailing the department’s recent troubles, recapping the case against former Lieutenant Stahl and the new charges against former Deputy Chief Conklin, among other high-profile personnel matters that had occurred on the chief’s watch.
