by Marie Force
Sam stopped in the conference room where Gonzo had set up the murder board. She took a good look at each of the victims, all of them attractive young people with smiles as bright as the futures that had been stolen from them. They’d done something stupid and had paid an awful price.
Looking at each photo, Sam vowed to get justice for them no matter what it took.
“Lieutenant.”
Sam turned to face Carlucci. “The chief is looking for you in his office.”
“Thanks. I’ll see him on the way out.” She left the conference room and the pit, cut through the main lobby and headed for the chief’s suite.
His administrative assistant waved her right in.
Sam knocked on the closed door. “You wanted to see me?”
Another man was in the office with the chief, and when he turned around, Sam recognized him as Bill Springer, the father of one of their vics and the owner of the home where the murders occurred.
“I believe you know Bill Springer,” Farnsworth said.
“Yes.” Sam nodded to Springer. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Springer was tall, dark-haired and handsome in a rough-around-the-edges sort of way.
“I’d like to know what’s being done to find the person who butchered my son and his friends.” Despite the confrontational tone, raw brown eyes told the story of a long, sleepless night filled with grief.
“We’re in the early stages of our investigation.”
“Which is shorthand for you have no clue, right?”
“It’s shorthand for we’re working the case.”
“Someone known to my son came into my home and murdered him and eight other people. And all you’ve got are snappy comebacks?”
Sam glanced at the chief, hoping he would step in.
He took the hint. “Bill, give us some time to figure this out. Lieutenant Holland always figures it out, which is why you wanted her on your son’s case.”
“Mr. Springer, while I have you, can you tell me who else had access to your home other than you and your wife, Hugo and your maid?”
Springer seemed surprised by the question. “Our other four children have keys.”
“Are they local?”
“Two of them are.”
“Their names and addresses?”
“I don’t understand why this is relevant.”
“Just being thorough,” Sam said. “I assume you expect us to be thorough in investigating your son’s murder.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Sam saw the chief’s brows rise in reaction to her comeback. What did Springer expect? He was bitching they weren’t doing enough, but when asked about his own family he clammed up?
“My son William Junior is local, as is my daughter Clarissa.”
“Their addresses?” Sam asked a second time. She wasn’t surprised to hear they both lived in the Georgetown area. “And where were your other two children on Friday night?”
“Connor was with us in Aspen, and Margaret is in Boston with her fiancé for the holiday week.”
“You and your wife were due to be away all week?”
He shook his head. “Only until Wednesday evening. I had a conference to attend in Aspen, so my wife came with me to spend some time at the Aspen house. Our son Connor lives there.”
“And where did you think Hugo would be during your trip?”
Springer ran a trembling hand over the stubble on his jaw. “He told us he’d cleared it with Michael’s mom, and it was okay for him to stay there.”
“You didn’t follow up with Mrs. Chastain to make sure that was true?”
“He’s never lied to us before, Lieutenant,” Springer said sharply. “We had no reason to doubt he was telling the truth.”
Sam wanted to laugh in the guy’s face. Hugo had never lied before? Based on what she’d seen in the Springers’ basement on Friday night, she suspected it was more likely he’d never been caught before.
“I know what you’re probably thinking,” Springer said, his posture losing some of its rigidity. “What seventeen-year-old boy doesn’t lie to his parents to suit his own agenda? But Hugo wasn’t that kind of boy. He was a good boy.” Springer’s voice broke on those last words.
Sam wondered what he’d say when he learned that his “good boy” had been involved in the gang rape of her niece. “Can you think of anyone who might’ve had a beef with Hugo or Michael or Todd or any of the other kids who were killed?”
“I didn’t know any of the girls. The boys were popular kids with a lot of friends. I can’t imagine anyone would hate them enough to kill them.”
Sam handed him her card. “If you think of anything, even the smallest thing, please call me.”
“I will. And you’ll keep me apprised of the investigation?”
“To the best of my ability.”
“Thank you.”
“Lieutenant, I need you to brief the media before you head out,” Farnsworth said.
“Detective Sergeant Gonzales is technically in charge of the investigation,” Sam reminded the chief.
“Why is that?” Springer asked. “I want you in charge.”
“I was on vacation when this happened, so Sergeant Gonzales is in charge, and I’m assisting him. The case is in very good hands with him.”
“If you say so...”
“Bill, Lieutenant Holland is absolutely right. Sergeant Gonzales is one of our best detectives. You have my word that we’ll do everything we can to get justice for your son and the others.”
“I suppose that’s all I can ask. I’ll let you get back to work.” Springer shook hands with the chief and with Sam on his way out.
“Nothing quite like a head-in-the-sand parent on a case like this,” Sam said.
“I was thinking the same thing.”
“I’m trying to imagine a scenario where Scotty tells us he’s spending a weekend with a friend while we’re out of town, and we don’t actually confirm that with the friend’s parents. All teenagers lie. Don’t they?”
Farnsworth chuckled. “I’ll have to take your word for that as I don’t have any of my own.”
“You were one once,” Sam reminded him as they walked to the lobby to deal with the media. “Didn’t you ever lie to your parents?”
“Not that I recall.” He glanced at her. “Did you?”
“I refuse to answer that on the grounds that you are friends with my dad, and there’s no statute of limitations on parental lying.”
Farnsworth let out a ringing laugh. “You’ve always been a handful, Holland.”
“Why thank you. I appreciate your kind thoughts.”
“Only you would take that as a compliment.” He shook his head as he held the door for her to go ahead of him into the madhouse of reporters gathered outside HQ, waiting for an update about the MacArthur murders.
The crowd quieted when Sam approached the podium. “I want to preface my remarks by noting that Detective Sergeant Gonzales is the officer in charge of the MacArthur investigation. I was on leave when the call came in, and as such, he’s the ranking officer in charge, and I’m consulting. He’s in the field, so I’ll be handling this briefing in his stead. I expect that future briefings will come from him. Let me tell you what we know.
“At approximately eleven forty-eight p.m. on Friday Dispatch received a nine-one-one call from the home of William and Marissa Springer on MacArthur Boulevard. The Springers’ live-in maid, Ms. Edna Chan, placed the call. She had returned home from an evening out to hear loud music coming from the basement. When she investigated, she discovered the bodies of Hugo Springer and five other young people. Patrol responded and found the bodies of six victims in a basement family room. They requested backup from homicide and crime scene detectives. Upon further inspection, three more bo
dies were found in a bedroom adjacent to the family room. All the victims had been stabbed multiple times.”
“How is it possible that someone can stab nine kids without anyone stopping them or hearing the screams?” Darren Tabor asked.
Sam scowled at the pesky reporter. “We believe the room was dark and music drowned out any sounds that came from the initial victims.”
“Were drugs or alcohol a factor?” another reporter asked.
“No comment.”
“So they were factors?” the same reporter said.
“No comment. We’re working the case with cooperation from the FBI, and we’ll update you when we have more.”
“Have all the families been notified?”
“Yes, they have.”
“Could we get a list of the victims’ names and ages?”
“We’ll get that for you within the hour. In the interest of full disclosure, I will tell you that a member of my family is believed to have been at the party up to and through the murders. We have evidence that clears her of any involvement in the murders. Another division within the MPD is handling her case. That’s all for now.”
“If she’s been cleared, what case is being handled by the other division?”
“Which member of your family?” Daren Tabor asked.
“Isn’t it a conflict of interest for you to work on a case where a family member was involved?”
“Are you covering for your family member, Lieutenant?”
“I said that’s all for now,” Sam repeated through gritted teeth. Even though she’d expected the questions, she still resented them.
“Is there any truth to the rumor that your husband is in the running to be Nelson’s new vice president?”
Sam froze as the question sent a hush through the press corps.
“Up to you if you want to answer or not,” Farnsworth said under his breath.
“We don’t deal in rumors,” Sam said. Before they could pose follow-up questions, Sam followed the chief inside.
“Is that true?” the chief asked when they were in the lobby.
“It’s true he’s been asked.”
“Wow, Sam. That’s amazing!”
“Um, yes, I suppose it is, but he’s not going to do it.”
“Why not? That would all but hand him the Democratic nomination in four years.”
“Which is what I said too. However, he doesn’t feel the time is right for us as a family to take that step.”
“Because you’d probably have to leave the job.”
“Among other things.” Since the thought of leaving her job to play full-time political wife made Sam feel twitchy and off center and more than a little sick, she couldn’t imagine what the reality would be like.
“You know, if his star continues to rise the way it has in the last year you may have to make some tough decisions at some point.”
“I prefer not to think about that. I’ve got enough on my mind with nine dead kids, a niece in the ICU and a father going under the knife next week. Nick said no to Nelson, and that’s that.”
“He said no to the president. What must that be like?”
“I don’t know.” Sam wanted out of this conversation immediately. The thought of Nick as vice president of the United States wasn’t something she was able to process, so she preferred to exist in her happy world of denial. “I gotta meet Hill. I’m heading out through the morgue.”
“Keep me posted on all the goings-on—police, political and personal.”
Sam rolled her eyes at him and headed for the corridor that led to the morgue. She ran into Lindsey McNamara, who was coming in as Sam went out. “What’s the good word, Doc?”
“Not many good words after a day like yesterday. I didn’t sleep too well.”
Sam appreciated that Lindsey took such a compassionate interest in all the victims that came through her lab, but she could attest to the awful toll the constant exposure to murder took after a while.
“Terry was very excited about his promotion,” Lindsey said. “Nick’s faith in him has been so critical to his recovery.”
“Oh... Sure. That’s great.” Sam had no idea what she was talking about. “Terry is very valuable to him. He says that all the time.”
“The promotion was a bright spot in an otherwise awful day.”
“Things seem to be going really well for you two.”
“Very well indeed,” Lindsey said with a smile as a faint blush flooded her cheeks. “I’m so glad I took a chance on him. It was the best thing I’ve ever done.”
“I’m happy for you both,” Sam said sincerely, even though she still hated the way her world and Nick’s continued to overlap. In a perfect world, her professional and personal lives would be entirely separate. Sadly, she didn’t live in that perfect world, and she’d never begrudge great people like Lindsey, Terry, Gonzo and Christina their right to be happy just because their happiness sometimes inconvenienced her. “I’ve got to go. Hit me up when you have DNA results.”
“I will.”
As she walked to her car, Sam called her husband.
“Hey, babe. Miss me already?”
“Naturally, but I’m wondering about a promotion you might’ve given Terry O’Connor that I heard about from his girlfriend who is so very grateful?”
“Oh... Sorry. We were otherwise occupied last night, and the last thing on my mind was work.”
“If you’re promoting Terry, what does that mean for Christina?”
“She’s decided to take some time off to be with Alex and to hopefully have a baby of her own.”
“How is it I haven’t heard any of this? You’re not slipping into a pattern of keeping things from me, are you, Senator? Because that would most definitely count as a marital double standard.”
Nick laughed at her terminology. “I’m not intentionally keeping anything from you, Samantha. To be honest, it didn’t occur to me that you’d care about my staff shake-ups.”
“Of course I care! They’re the people who work closest with you and make sure you’re doing all the right stuff and everything.” In truth, she had no idea what Christina and Terry did on any given day. “Not to mention they’re dating or engaged to people I work with. If it’s just the same to you, I’d rather hear about these things from you rather than their significant others.”
“You’re right, and I’m sorry. I should’ve told you.”
“This is becoming a disturbing pattern. Should I worry that I’m rubbing off on you?”
“Um, I love when you rub off on me.”
“Nick! Gross. I’m being serious.”
“So am I,” he said, laughing, “and there’s nothing gross about it. But your point is well taken, and I’ll do better at keeping you in the loop on my work stuff.”
“Just because my work stuff tends to take over our lives doesn’t mean I’m not interested in yours.”
“I know, babe.”
“I got a press question today about the VP thing.”
After a long pause, he said, “You did?”
“Yeah, during the briefing about the MacArthur murders.”
“And it wasn’t Darren?”
“Nope. Someone else from one of the TV stations.”
“Shit. What the hell? That’s two reporters who’ve now asked about it.”
“I never told you it was Darren who told me.”
“I came to my own conclusions. How is it getting out?”
“Is it possible the White House is letting it out because they want you and they want everyone to know it?”
“I suppose.”
“Why don’t you give Derek a call, and see what he says?”
“I was just thinking the same thing.”
“Make sure he
and Maeve have plans for Thanksgiving.”
“I will. I’ll let you know what I find out from him.”
“Yes, you will.”
“I love when you get all bossy with me, babe. It makes me hot.”
“Everything makes you hot.”
“Everything with you makes me hot.”
“I really wish I was on vacation right now. You have no idea how much I wish that.”
“I have a slight idea.”
“How’s our best boy today?”
“He’s fine. Playing video games with Ethan, and I’m taking all three of them skating after a while.”
“You aren’t skating too, are you?”
“Maybe a little. Abby needs some help.”
“Be careful. Do you hear me?”
“I hear you. Where are you right now?”
“Heading to the house where the pictures of Brooke were posted online.”
“By yourself?”
“No. Gonzo and Freddie are going too. And Hill’s team.”
“Of course Hill’s going.”
“Lalala, can’t hear you. Gotta go.”
“Love you, babe, even when you’re being obstinate.”
“Why thank you. Love you too.”
She ended the call with a smile on her face. Talking to him almost always made her happier than she’d ever been in her life. When she thought about the four miserable years she’d spent with her ex-husband, Peter, that life felt like a million years ago compared to what she had now with Nick. A year ago today, she would’ve scoffed at the words “soul mate,” but now that she’d found hers she wasn’t so cynical anymore.
* * *
Nick placed a call to his close friend Derek Kavanaugh. Derek’s friends were glad to see him getting back to some semblance of normal after the tragic loss of his wife, Victoria. When the call went to Derek’s voice mail, Nick took a chance and dialed the White House. It wasn’t unusual for Derek to be at work on a Sunday, even now that he was a single father to his daughter, Maeve.
After identifying himself to Derek’s administrative assistant, Nick was placed on hold, which gave him time to think about the entertaining conversation he’d had with his wife. He hated to admit that she was right about the marital double standard. He was guilty of failing to tell her a few key things recently, and he knew he had to do better lest she slip back into her old pattern of keeping just about everything that had the potential to be even slightly upsetting from him.
