by Marie Force
“Because they were drunk and high, too, and not thinking properly,” Nick said. “Real men take care of women and girls. They don’t lose control of themselves and take advantage of a girl who isn’t able to say no.”
“That’s right,” Skip said. “And whoever did the videotaping is just as culpable as the other boys.”
“What does that word mean?” Scotty asked. “Culpable?”
“Responsible,” Sam said. “They could’ve stopped it, but instead they chose to film it. That makes them just as bad as the others.”
As he rested against her, Scotty seemed to be processing everything they’d told him.
“You know you can ask any of us anything whenever you want, right?” Skip said. “Even me. I’ll never tell you anything but the truth and neither will your mom and dad.”
“My mom and dad,” Scotty said with the grin that was much more like him. “That’s still so cool to hear.”
“It’s cool for us too,” Sam said, as a sudden rush of emotion had her blinking back tears. She closed her eyes and took a moment to breathe in the scent of his clean hair. “You have no idea how cool.”
“We need to get going to hockey practice,” Nick said.
“Go ahead and get ready,” Sam said, giving Scotty a kiss before she released him.
At the word “hockey” Scotty was up and on the way to the stairs to change.
“You feel like taking him?” Sam asked her husband.
“Yep.”
“Okay.”
Sam watched him follow Scotty upstairs, wishing with all her heart they could’ve had that vacation they both needed so badly.
“Looks like trouble in paradise,” Skip said.
“Maybe a little. He’s annoyed the vacation got messed up, he’s injured and now he’s mad I asked Hill for help.”
“That last one explains it all.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That FBI agent looks at you like he wants to kidnap you and steal you away from your happy home.”
The comment made Sam’s face heat, which infuriated her. “That’s his problem, not mine.”
“True, but your husband doesn’t like it, and I can’t say I blame him.”
“I need Hill’s professional help. He can get to the source of the video and pictures faster than I can. That’s my only goal here—that and finding out what the hell Brooke was doing here when she was supposed to be at that fancy school we paid so much money to send her to.”
Skip raised an eyebrow. “I had a feeling you might’ve footed the bill for that.”
Sam waved off the comment. “We were afraid of just this very thing that happened anyway.”
“You’re walking a very fine line here, baby girl.”
“I know that. Uncle Joe took me off the MacArthur case as soon as I told him Brooke might’ve been there at some point. And now the video proves she was there. Not to mention her clothes and phone will be among the stuff they found at the scene.”
“So if Joe took you off the case, what’re you doing calling in the Feds?”
“I called my friend and asked for a favor.”
“A favor you shouldn’t be requesting when you’re off the case.”
“I was taken off the MacArthur case. I wasn’t taken off Brooke’s case.”
“Again, I say fine line. You and I have both seen good cops lose their careers by muddying the difference between ends and means.”
He was right, and she knew it, but that didn’t change anything. “So you’re suggesting I let someone else look into what Brooke was doing in the city last night and potentially link her to the murders of nine other kids? I should take a chance that it’s going to be handled properly by everyone involved?”
“You should have faith that the people you trained and mentored are going to handle the case and your niece’s involvement with all due care and skill. You should step back and let them do their jobs.”
“I can’t do that, and you wouldn’t either if you were me.”
He let out a deep sigh that was followed by a gasp.
Sam zeroed in on his face, which was twisted in pain. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Same thing,” he said with a grimace.
The bullet lodged in his spine had begun to move in recent weeks, and the first sign of trouble had been the return of painful sensation to some of his limbs. He should’ve had surgery more than a week ago but was determined to get through Thanksgiving before he went under the knife.
“I hope you’re not making things worse by delaying this surgery.” Any threat to his health made her stomach ache like a bastard.
He laughed through the pain. “Worse than what?”
“You know what I mean, Dad! Worse than this is dead!”
“Life is a fatal illness, and we’re all going to die someday.”
“Maybe so, but I vote to postpone your fatal illness for as long as possible.”
“And I love you for that, but you need to prepare yourself for the possibility—”
“Do not finish that sentence. Under any circumstances.”
The half of his face that wasn’t paralyzed lifted into an indulgent smile. He was living on borrowed time, and they both knew it, but there was no freaking way they were going to actually talk about that.
Her ringing cell phone took her mind off the staggering array of awful possibilities that could result from a surgery doctors had once told them was too risky to perform. Now, with the bullet on the move, they had no choice. Sam flipped open her phone to take the call. “Holland.”
“It’s Hill. I’ve got your warrant.”
“Wow, you don’t mess around.”
“No time for messing around. Pick you up in ten?”
Sam glanced at the stairs, wondering how close Nick was to departing. Wouldn’t it be perfect if he got to watch her leave with Hill? “Yeah, thanks.”
“On my way.”
She stashed the phone in her pocket, and her gaze connected with the frosty blue eyes that were just like hers.
“Fine line. In more ways than one.”
“You’ve made your point.”
“I don’t ever want to have to say I told you so, Sam.”
“Then don’t. I’m going to do what I’ve got to do, the same way you would. I’m going to figure out what happened to Brooke, and I’ll turn over whatever I find to my team.”
“And if you find something critical to the prosecution of the person who murdered those kids? It’ll be tainted by your connection to Brooke, and you know that!”
“Which is why Hill will be the one to find whatever we find.”
“You’re playing with fire.”
“Just like you did with the Fitzgerald case? Remember how you looked the other way when you figured out that the son of your dead partner’s wife killed his brother, and you swept it under the rug to protect her?”
Sam had never seen such unmitigated rage directed at her from her father.
Scotty came bounding down the stairs, full of exuberance, unaware he was walking into a battlefield.
“Scotty, do me a favor and get the doors for me, will you, son?” Skip asked.
“You got it.”
Without another word for his daughter, Skip turned his motorized chair and headed for the front door. Watching him go, with Scotty trotting after him to get the door on the other end, Sam decided she was truly batting a thousand today.
Chapter Six
Nick could tell just by looking at his wife that something was wrong. Hell, what wasn’t wrong today? But judging by the set of her shoulders and the hands propped on curvy hips she was boiling about something.
“What’s the matter, babe?” he asked. Even though they’d butt
ed heads earlier, she was still his babe, still the most important person in his life. Well, tied these days for first with Scotty, but he knew she’d understand that. Scotty was first with both of them. Nick placed his hands on her shoulders where tightness was another sign of trouble.
“I just said something to my dad that I shouldn’t have. Now he’s furious with me, and for good reason.”
“He doesn’t have it in him to stay furious at you for long.”
“I don’t know... He’s pretty steamed. Scotty went to walk him home and handle the doors for him.”
Nick moved carefully to put his arms around her from behind. His ribs hurt much worse than they had earlier, but knowing he’d have to drive Scotty to hockey practice, he hadn’t taken any more pain medication.
Sam rested her hands on top of his. “I need to tell you something that’s going to make you really mad.”
Nick’s entire body went tense as he waited to hear what she’d say.
“I’m going to Brooke’s school with Hill. He was able to get a warrant, and we’re going down there to get her laptop and try to figure out what happened last night.”
He had a million things he could say to that, but in the interest of preserving the fragile détente, he kept them all to himself.
Sam turned to face him. “Say something.”
“What’s there to say? If I tell you not to go, you’ll go anyway. If I tell you this isn’t your case, and you’re risking everything for a kid who has proven she may not be worth it, you’ll go anyway.”
“I’m doing it for her whether she’s worth it or not, but more I’m doing it for Tracy, who is indeed very worth it.”
“If I tell you Hill is an opportunist who’ll do anything for some time alone with you, you’ll deny that too. So what is it exactly you want me to say?”
Sam stepped back from him, folding her arms and shaking her head. “You just don’t get it.”
“No, I don’t, but that’s okay. Apparently it doesn’t matter if I get it or not.”
Scotty came in the front door, back from helping Skip home. “Ready to go, Nick?”
He tore his gaze off his wife to focus on his son. “Yeah, buddy. I’m ready.” Without another word for Sam, he grabbed his phone, keys and coat and headed for the door.
“See you later, Sam,” Scotty called as he followed Nick out.
“Have a good practice.”
“Thanks.”
In the year they’d been together, Nick had never been angrier with her than he was right now. She was defying a direct order from her chief to stay out of the case and gambling her hard-won career for a kid who’d shown absolutely no regard for anyone other than herself.
That’s what he’d meant when he questioned whether Brooke was worth it. The words had come out wrong, but the sentiment behind them was dead-on, and she knew it. Brooke had been making trouble in their family for years now, and while he wouldn’t wish this latest situation on anyone—least of all Tracy and Mike, who totally didn’t deserve it—he wasn’t as surprised as he should’ve been that it had happened in the first place. And if she were being truthful with herself, Sam wasn’t either.
“What’s wrong?” Scotty asked when they had driven halfway to the rink in rare silence.
“Nothing. Sorry. Just a lot going on today.”
“You’re mad at Sam. I can tell.”
Nick still wasn’t used to having a perceptive kid in the middle of his marriage, not that he’d want that perceptive kid anywhere else. “We don’t agree about her approach to this situation with Brooke.”
“How do you mean?”
“She wants to figure out what happened last night, and I want her to stay out of it.”
“She can’t do that. It’s not how she rolls.”
Nick glanced over at the boy, who was in fact exceptionally perceptive. “No,” he said with a sigh, “it isn’t, but I wish this once she’d roll in another direction.”
“Because she could get into trouble for helping Brooke?”
“For one thing.”
“And because it’s messing up the vacation?”
“For another. Not that I blame Brooke for that. Well, not really. It’s just...complicated, and this week was supposed to be relaxing.”
“Sam was excited about the vacation too.”
“I know.” He pulled into the rink parking lot and after driving around a few times, he finally found a spot. The place was always crowded. He turned off the car and looked over at Scotty. “Every married couple hits a bump or two along the way. There’s always going to be things we don’t agree on, and Sam and I are still figuring out how to fight with someone else in the house—someone we’d never want to upset.”
“It’s okay. I know what you mean, and at least if you’re fighting you won’t be kissing all the time.” He made gagging and choking noises that had Nick laughing so hard his ribs ached in protest.
“You’re hilarious.”
“I know, right?”
As he got out of the car and followed the boy and his giant equipment bag into the rink, Nick realized he felt a tiny bit better. He was still upset about everything that’d happened, but for the next couple of hours he would focus totally on his son. He’d deal with his wife later.
* * *
Rattled by the way Nick had once again walked away from her without finishing their conversation and without any of the words they always said to each other, Sam stood there staring at the door for a good five minutes after he left. Most of the time when she dug in on an issue, she felt pretty confident she was right. This time, she wasn’t so sure.
He’d made good points. Brooke had put herself in a dangerous situation by sneaking out of school to attend a wild party at home. However, no one deserved to be sexually assaulted. With that in mind, Sam gathered her belongings for the two-hour trip to Middleburg, Virginia.
Before she left, she placed a call to Tracy, who answered on the first ring.
“How is she?” Sam asked.
“The same. Still sleeping and out of it.”
“That’s for the best right now. She’s going to be sick and in pain when she wakes up.”
“I know. That’s what the doctors told us.”
“I’m going to the school to see what I can find out. I’ll be gone about five hours. I’ve let it be known that no one is to talk to her without me present, so no one from the MPD should bother you.”
“Freddie stopped by a short time ago to check on us, but it was a personal visit, not professional.”
Sam expected nothing less from her faithful partner, who was friendly with her entire family. “That was nice of him.”
“He’d come from the crime scene and looked like hell.”
“It’s always worse when kids are involved.”
“I can only imagine. I don’t know how you do it.”
“Are you okay, Trace?”
Tracy released a rattling sigh. “I’m shocked and horrified and...” Her voice broke. “Not as shocked as I should be that something like this finally happened. It’s like she was leading up to it for the last couple of years. I know Mike feels the same way, though he’d never say it out loud.”
“I’m also not as shocked as I should be that she found a way out of school or came home to attend a party or got high or drank. But what they did to her is on them, not her.”
“If she hadn’t done what she did, they couldn’t have done what they did,” Tracy said.
“Maybe not, but it doesn’t excuse them, and the fact is that after they raped her, someone killed them and everyone else who was there. Because she had blood all over her, it’s highly likely that Brooke and others were there when the killings took place. Either they were the killers or they managed to escape with their lives.”
“You don’t think she...”
“No, I don’t think she had anything to do with murder, Trace. She was stoned out of her mind, and the video proves that.”
“God, how could she have done this to herself and to us?”
“She’s got a long road ahead of her coming to terms with what happened. If there’s a bright side, she won’t remember much of it. I’ve got to go, but keep me posted on what’s going on there. I’ll come by when I get back.”
“Thanks for what you’re doing. I’m sure you’re out on a ledge on our behalf, and I appreciate it.”
“She’s alive, and that’s all that matters right now. Try not to worry about the rest.”
“I’m trying.”
“I’ll see you soon.” Sam ended the call filled with feelings of impotence and rage. Here she was, the best-qualified member of the department, relegated to the sidelines in what promised to be another hot case. Her niece was in the ICU, her sister was riddled with misplaced guilt and her dad and husband were angry with her.
This day could only get better from here, right? Wrong. She opened her front door to find Darren Tabor from the Washington Star still staked out on the sidewalk. “What do you want, Darren?”
“I’m wondering what you’re doing home when there’s been a mass homicide in the city.”
“I’m on vacation.”
“Nine kids were murdered, and you’re on vacation? Why do I find that hard to believe?”
Sam shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. The last thing she needed was the pesky reporter catching wind of the fact that her niece had been at the scene at the time of the murders.
“Why was an ambulance here last night? I tried to get the police report, but surprisingly all I found was a ‘not-needed’ report.” His tone dripped with sarcasm, and she had to give him credit. He was, as always, incredibly well informed and thorough.
“Private family matter.”
“And the senator’s trip to the emergency room?”
Sam scowled at him. “A hockey injury. He’s fine.” She glanced up Ninth Street, hoping Hill wouldn’t arrive until she’d gotten rid of Darren. “Go away, Darren. There’s no story here.”
“Oh, Sam,” he said, laughing. “There’s always a story where you’re concerned. I can see you’re not in one of your rare generous moods today, so I’ll be on my way. For now. I just hope you’re not covering up something.”
