by Marie Force
“I wish I did. We’ve been trying to figure that out ourselves as the owner or owners aren’t shy about voicing their displeasure with the administration. We have our suspicions, but we can’t prove anything. These kids are good at hiding out online.”
“Can you give me some names to look into?”
“You have to understand, Lieutenant. These are mostly good kids who feel omnipotent when hiding behind an anonymous handle. I’d hate to see their lives ruined over some harmless postings.”
“Have you looked at today’s harmless postings by any chance?”
“No, I haven’t. I’ve been doing errands with my wife all day. I came home after I got the call about what happened at the Springers’ home. Several of the dead are Wilson students. We’re heartbroken.”
“Take a look at what your harmless seniors have been up to today. I’ll wait.”
“Well, um, okay...” The sound of rustling in the background was followed by the click of computer keys. “Oh my God,” he said softly—so softly she almost didn’t hear him. “Is that Brooke Hogan?”
“It is, and she happens to be my niece.”
“Oh, Lord. I’m so sorry. And Michael Chastain and Hugo Springer...I can’t believe they’d do such a thing. They were both from good homes. I just...I’m sorry, Lieutenant.”
“As you can imagine, we’re trying very hard to get to the source of those postings.”
“I’ll make some calls and see if I can help. I’m so sorry this happened. Brooke is a good kid who fell in with the wrong crowd. I was so hoping for the best for her at her new school.”
“We all were, but we’ll make sure she gets through this. I appreciate any help you can give me, as well as your cooperation with the detectives who’ll want to speak with you about the Wilson kids who were murdered.”
“Of course. Anything we can do to help.”
“Call me if you get anything on the social media account.”
“Will do. Please give my best to Brooke and her family.”
“I will. Thank you.” Sam stashed her phone in her coat pocket. “Nice guy with a tough job,” she said to Avery. “I don’t think I’d make for a very good high school principal.”
Avery busted up laughing. “Really? What makes you say that? Could it be your bluntness? Your lack of political correctness or perhaps your need to always be right?”
Despite the fact that he’d summed her up rather well, Sam scowled at him anyway. “Very funny.”
“Dr. Kelison is here,” Young said from the doorway. He introduced her to Sam and Avery.
Sam turned to face the woman who didn’t look much older than the population she served. She had long, curly reddish-brown hair and brown eyes. “You’re a doctor?”
“I am.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-three.”
“Wow, you don’t look it.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“You worked with my niece, Brooke Hogan?”
“I did.”
“Can you tell me anything she might’ve said to indicate she was planning to bust out of here?”
“It’s been my experience that teenagers can be extremely circumspect when it suits them.”
“Is that a no?”
“That’s a no. Without betraying her confidences, I can tell you Brooke was making progress toward accepting the changes in her life and getting through her senior year successfully. She was anxious to be done with school.”
“Did she say anything about her parents or their decision to send her here?”
Kelison shook her head. “I’m not at liberty to discuss that.”
“We have a warrant,” Sam reminded her.
“We all know that access to private medical information requires a whole other kind of warrant. Without that, I’m not saying anything else.” She paused before she added, “I’m very sorry to hear what happened to Brooke. Underneath all the teenage bluster and drama, she’s a sweet girl.”
“Yes, she is.” Sam took a long look around at Brooke’s room, wondering if or when her niece would return here, and picked up Norman to bring him to her in the hospital. “Our work here is finished,” she said to Avery. “Let’s get back to the city.”
Chapter Seven
After three hours of delays, Gonzo’s skin had begun to feel too tight to contain the nervous energy zinging around inside him. He tugged on the shirt collar that felt like a noose and loosened his tie. When he wasn’t obsessing about how the court might rule on their case, he was thinking about the investigation he was supposed to be running in the lieutenant’s absence.
He’d been in touch with Cruz, McBride and Tyrone, and had insisted Carlucci and Dominguez follow orders and go home for a few hours of shut-eye. He’d spoken with Lindsey McNamara about the autopsies and Archie about the dump of the cell phones recovered at the scene. Captain Malone was handling the media and Bill Springer, who’d returned to town looking for vengeance on behalf of his son. According to the captain, Springer wasn’t interested in talking about how his son had hosted a drug-fueled orgy that had gone bad in his parents’ absence. All he wanted to talk about was how his son had ended up dead and what was being done to find the killer.
Gonzo was doing what he could to stay on top of things while he waited with Christina and his lawyer, Andy Simone. Sam’s sister Angela had come from the hospital to pick up Alex as they’d planned before everything happened with Brooke. Gonzo had tried to let her off the hook, but Angela wouldn’t hear of it. She’d said she was happy to have something else to focus on while they waited for Brooke to wake up.
Angela had taken Alex to her house to play with her son, Jack, and Christina would pick him up after court. Gonzo’s gratitude toward Christina and Angela in particular was overwhelming at times. When Alex had landed unexpectedly in his arms last winter, both women had stepped up to help him, and he couldn’t have gotten through his first months of fatherhood without them. Christina was with the baby when Gonzo worked nights, and Angela watched him during the day.
The arrangement worked perfectly, and the thought that today’s hearing could upend their harmonious life made Gonzo feel sick and sweaty. With his elbows resting on his knees, he let his hands fall between his legs, his head dropping from the weight of his thoughts. If he lost custody of Alex, he’d never get over it. That much he knew for certain.
Christina put her arm around him and leaned her head against his shoulder, her steady presence giving him the strength to get through whatever might happen. “Are you okay?” she whispered.
“The waiting is killing me. I feel like I’m going to explode.”
“I do too.”
Knowing she felt the pressure as keenly as he did made it easier to bear somehow. Having her there with him made everything easier to bear. He linked his fingers with hers and took comfort in the heat of her skin against his.
“Let’s go, guys,” Andy said all of a sudden as he got up to head toward the courtroom.
Now that the moment was upon them, Gonzo couldn’t move. A wave of fear bigger and stronger than anything he’d ever experienced threatened to sweep him under.
“It’s okay, Tommy,” Christina said. “Whatever happens, I’ll be right there with you, and we’ll get through it together.” She squeezed his hand for emphasis. “Come on. Andy is waiting for us.”
Still in a fog of fear and apprehension, Gonzo got up and let her lead the way to the courtroom, where Andy held the door for them. Gonzo was startled to see Alex’s mother, Lori, for the first time in months. She looked much more like the woman he’d met initially and bore no resemblance to the drug-addicted person she’d been last winter, before a stint in rehab.
Surely the judge would see that too.
Lori stared at him with trepidation in her ey
es. Their one-night stand had resulted in one of the best things to ever happen to Gonzo, and he refused to be ashamed of that. But the thought of Lori taking Alex away from him had Gonzo breaking the eye contact.
The court was called to order, presided over by Judge Morton, who’d granted temporary custody to Gonzo last winter. Like then, he gave no indication now of recognizing Gonzo as the detective who’d solved his sister’s murder years earlier. The judge was businesslike as he reviewed the findings of the social worker who’d been a regular visitor in Gonzo’s home and had obviously spent time with Lori too. Gonzo couldn’t bear to listen to the social worker describe the changes Lori had made to accommodate a young child.
Gone was the felon who’d been her boyfriend. She’d been sober for one hundred twenty-nine days and was working the program religiously, attending daily meetings. She held a job as an office manager, and rented a two-bedroom apartment with a bedroom for her son and had arranged for licensed child care should she get custody. To Gonzo, each bit of information about how Lori had turned her life around to make room in it for Alex felt like a nail being hammered into his coffin.
And then it was Andy’s turn to talk about the lengths Gonzo and his fiancée had gone to in order to provide a stable, loving home for the child. Gonzo had reluctantly agreed to allow Andy to mention that Christina would be leaving her job to care full-time for Alex as of January. While he’d initially objected to her decision, he was extremely grateful now to have the advantage she’d given him.
Judge Morton asked the social worker a series of questions about Alex and his routine with his father and Ms. Billings. While she gave them glowing reviews, she had good things to say about Lori’s efforts, as well.
Listening carefully to each answer, the judge nodded and then shuffled papers around on his desk. The courtroom went completely quiet as everyone waited for him to say something. Finally, he propped his chin on his hands and turned his attention to Lori.
“Ms. Phillips, I want to commend you for the obvious hard work you’ve done to turn your life around. However, I see no good reason at this juncture to remove Alex from the only home he knows when that home has been both stable and loving.”
Lori let out a high-pitched wail of distress that penetrated the fog in Gonzo’s brain.
“Counselor, please ask your client to contain her outbursts in my courtroom.”
Lori’s lawyer leaned over to speak softly to her.
Quiet weeping provided a backdrop as the judge continued. “Detective Gonzales, I’m awarding you full and permanent custody with the provision that Ms. Phillips have regular visitation privileges to be established by the court. We’re adjourned.”
For a long moment after the judge left the room, Gonzo sat perfectly still, processing the words full and permanent custody. He’d won. Alex would remain with him and Christina forever. And then tears were rolling down his cheeks, and he was leaning into Christina’s embrace as she cried too.
“This isn’t fair!” Lori cried. “I did everything they said I had to do! And it was all for nothing!”
“It’s not for nothing, Lori,” the social worker said. “Because of all your hard work, you’ll get to see Alex and be part of his life.”
“Only if he lets me,” she said venomously as she glared at Gonzo. “I never should’ve called you! You never would’ve known about him if I hadn’t called you!”
Gonzo wiped his face and stood to face the mother of his child. “I’m sorry you’re upset by what happened here, but I have no desire to keep you from him.”
“Save your sympathy,” she said, her face twisted with rage as she jerked free of her lawyer’s grasp. “This is not over, so don’t start celebrating too soon.”
Though her threat shot a jolt of fear straight to his heart, he gave her the last word. He had what he wanted.
* * *
Sam was unable to sleep on the ride back to the District as her whirling mind attempted to process what she’d learned so far. Darkness had come early, as it did this time of year when the weather was gray and gloomy and cold.
With two hours to do nothing but sit and think, Sam made an important decision. She executed it by summoning her entire squad to her house at ten for an update on the MacArthur case. She included Lindsey McNamara on the text, but followed up to her with a note that her attendance would be helpful if she could make it. Sometimes it galled her that everyone didn’t answer to her, but alas the medical examiner was one who didn’t.
“How’s it going with Shelby?” she asked Hill, breaking a long silence.
“Fine.”
“That’s all? Just fine?”
“Why are you asking me when you already know every detail of every second I’ve spent with her?”
“That is not true.”
“Right,” he said with a low chuckle.
“She hasn’t told me everything.”
“Whatever you say.”
“So you like her?”
“Yes, I like her. If I didn’t, would I be spending time with her?”
“You can’t give me anything of value that I can take back to her?”
“You can tell her I said this—grow up and quit kissing and telling.”
“I’m not telling her that, and P.S., she hadn’t told me there’d been kissing.”
He groaned. “Christ, I walked right into that, didn’t I?”
Sam laughed at his dismay. “She’s terrific.”
“I’m not disagreeing.”
“Do you know about the special ‘project’ she’s got going on?”
“If you’re referring to her efforts to have a baby, yes, I’m aware.”
“What do you think of that?”
“People need to do what they gotta do to be happy. I’ve got no gripe with it.”
“Will you run for the hills if she gets pregnant?”
“What do you take me for, Sam? I’m not going to run for the hills or anywhere else. I’ve known all along about Operation Baby. I ran into her in an OB office during the Kavanaugh investigation. And besides, we’re just hanging out. No one is making lifetime commitments.”
“I don’t mean to insult you. I’m looking out for my friend.”
“Fair enough, but you’ve got nothing to worry about and neither does she.”
The Danzigers lived on a block of well-kept if nondescript townhouses on the line where Friendship Heights and Chevy Chase came together. They got out of the car and took the front narrow walk single file. Sam knocked on the door and waited, hoping something would be easy today.
A woman came to the door, looking as if she might’ve been sleeping.
Sam flashed her badge as Avery did the same. “Lieutenant Holland, MPD, Special Agent-in-Charge Hill, FBI.”
“What’s this about?”
“Is your daughter, Hoda, at home?”
“No. Is she in some sort of trouble?”
“We aren’t sure. We’d like to speak to her. Can you tell us where we might find her?”
“I’m not really sure. She’s out with her friends.”
“How old is your daughter, Mrs. Danziger?”
“She just turned eighteen.”
“And you don’t know where she is?”
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business. Hoda is very independent. She doesn’t need me around her neck all the time.”
Sam glanced at Avery to find that he looked as amazed as she felt. “Are you aware that a number of Wilson High School students were murdered last night?”
That bit of information finally seemed to draw a more human response from the woman. “What? Murdered? What’re you talking about?”
“May we come in, Mrs. Danziger?” Hill asked.
“Um, yeah. Sure, I guess.”
The
house was dark except for the TV’s glow. A blanket on the sofa indicated where Mrs. Danziger had been before their arrival. She turned on a lamp that cast a faint light over the room. “Sorry for the darkness. I suffer from migraines, and I do better in the dark.”
The metaphor applied to her parenting style too, Sam thought. “Would you please call Hoda and ask her to come home.”
“You said she’s not in any trouble.”
“Did I say that, Agent Hill? I don’t recall saying that.”
“I didn’t hear you say that, Lieutenant.”
Mrs. Danziger’s eyes got very big. “You don’t think she had anything to do with murder, do you?”
“Call her,” Sam said.
With trembling hands, Mrs. Danziger picked up her cell phone off the coffee table and made the call. “Hoda, it’s Mom. Call me when you get this message.”
“Send her a text too,” Sam said.
Mrs. Danziger did as directed. “What now?”
“Now we hope she calls you back.” They waited thirty minutes in uncomfortable silence, but the phone never rang. Sam put her notebook and a pen on the coffee table. “Give me her phone number and a list of where she might be. Friends, hangouts, anything you know about her whereabouts. If you have phone numbers for the friends, that would help.”
“I don’t know much about her friends. She keeps a lot of things to herself.”
At that, Sam snapped. “You understand that as her mother it behooves you to know what she’s doing and who she’s doing it with, right?”
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
“I’ll tell you exactly how it’s my business. Kids like yours, allowed to run free and do whatever the hell they want whenever they want, are the ones who end up in trouble, Mrs. Danziger. Sometimes they end up in very grave trouble, which leads them to my homicide squad or worse yet, the morgue. Not to mention, your lovely daughter checked my niece out of a boarding school in Virginia last night, and now my niece is in the ICU at GW, and your daughter is nowhere to be found. So don’t tell me it’s none of my business!”
