Fatal Jeopardy

by Marie Force

  In her line of work, upsetting things happened all the time, and he wanted to know about them, not be kept in the dark. It was only fair that he practice what he preached.

  “Good morning, Senator,” Derek said when he came on the line. His friend resorted to formality when they spoke to each other in a work capacity. In the time they spent together away from work, Nick insisted on first names. “To what do I owe this honor?”

  “Mr. Kavanaugh,” Nick said with equal formality. “I’m reaching out to you in your official capacity to ask how the media might’ve caught wind of the fact that your boss recently made me an offer that I turned down.”

  “Huh, is that right? What’re you hearing?”

  “It’s actually Sam who’s been getting the questions from two reporters now—Darren Tabor from the Star and a TV reporter this morning during a press conference on the MacArthur murders.”

  “I’m not aware of any nefarious plots to shame you into accepting the president’s offer, if that’s what you think is going on.”

  “I’ve got to be honest. That’s sort of how it’s starting to seem to me.”

  “Fair enough. I’ll do some poking around and get right back to you with what I find out.”

  “Thanks, Derek. Oh, and Sam wants to make sure you and Maeve have plans for the holiday.”

  “We’re going to my parents’ house for dinner, but tell her thanks for thinking of us.”

  “I’ll do that. We’ll be home all day—or at least I will and so will Scotty. Can’t ever guarantee Sam’s presence. If you want to stop by, we’d love to see you both.”

  “I might take you up on that. I’ll see how Maeve is doing after a day of sugar and cousins.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “I’ll call you back shortly.”

  “Great, thanks.”

  Nick kept his phone with him when he went upstairs to change to take the kids to lunch and then to the ice rink. He didn’t feel like doing any of it, but he wanted to get the kids out of Skip and Celia’s house to give the grandparents a break for a while. And it would do Scotty some good to get more skating practice.

  His skating was coming along, but he had a long way to go before he’d be as good as the other kids his age who’d been skating and playing hockey since they were old enough to stand up. Nick was determined to help his son catch up before he got to high school. He wanted Scotty to have the same experience he’d had playing high school hockey. The sense of camaraderie and friendships had lasted a lifetime for him, and he wanted the same for Scotty.

  Nick’s phone rang and, expecting it to be Derek, he took the call without checking the caller ID.

  “Hey, it’s me. Your dad.” Leo Cappuano’s awkward greeting made Nick smile. They’d come a long way toward a genuine relationship in recent years, but they still struggled from time to time.

  “Hey, Dad. How’s it going?”

  “Good, but I got a strange phone call just now from a reporter asking me if it’s true you’re going to be the next vice president. What’s up with that, Nicky?”

  Nick groaned. “Oh, jeez. Sorry about that. Who was it? Do you know?”

  “I didn’t catch his name, but I think it was the CBC station there in the District. Is it true?”

  “It’s true that I was asked, but I said no.”

  “Wait a minute... The president of the United States asked you to be his new VP, and you said no? Are you serious?”

  “Yes, I’m serious, and yes, I said no. It’s not the right time for me or Sam or Scotty.”

  “I don’t know much about anything, Nicky, but you might not want to be so hasty.”

  “I appreciate your concern, but think about it. Can you see Sam filling the role of second lady?”

  “I absolutely can see it, and I can see both of you in the White House too.”

  “Your imagination is a little more vivid than mine. She loves her job. It’s such a big part of who she is. How do I ask her to give that up so she can support my career?”

  “Maybe she doesn’t have to give it up,” Leo said. “In this day and age, anything is possible. Have you asked the right questions before you assume she’d have to give it up?”

  “Well, no, not really. It never occurred to me that it would be feasible for us.”

  “You should let it occur to you. It’s an incredible opportunity, and if that reporter who called me is right, you’re the only one Nelson wants.”

  “I can’t even believe we’re having this conversation. A year ago, John was still alive. I was his chief of staff. I hadn’t seen Sam in six years... Now... Everything is different, and I’m still trying to get used to this life, let alone taking on something even bigger. Scotty has only just come to live with us, and I don’t want to disrupt him either.”

  “Obviously I don’t know him as well as you do, but from the time I’ve spent with him, I can’t believe there’s anything that kid couldn’t roll with. I suspect I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know where he’s concerned.”

  “That is true, but I don’t know, Dad... This whole thing is almost too much to get my head around. Sometimes I still feel like a fraud because of how I got my job in the first place.”

  “Anyone who knows you at all knows you’d give it all up to have John back. But since that’s not possible, you’re coping with it gracefully and professionally, and I’m so damned proud of you.”

  Nick sucked in a sharp, deep breath at his father’s unusually effusive praise. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

  “You don’t have any reason to feel like a fraud, Nicky, especially after you won that election fair and square. Have you talked to Graham about it?”

  “Briefly. Right after Nelson asked me.”

  “What did he have to say?”

  “There was quite a bit of whimpering when I told him I’d turned down Nelson’s offer.”

  Laughing, Leo said, “I bet there was. He sees big things in your future, son, and so do I. Don’t be too quick to say no. Ask all the right questions before you rule it out.”

  “Thanks for the advice, Dad. I appreciate it.”

  “Let me know what happens.”

  “I’ll do that. See you Thursday?”

  “We’re looking forward to it. See you then.”

  Nick had no sooner hung up with his dad when Derek called him back. “What’s the word?” Nick asked when he answered.

  “The president would like to see you at the White House at four.”

  Flabbergasted, Nick was momentarily speechless.

  “Nick? Can you come at four?”

  “Today?”

  “Yes,” Derek said with a laugh. “Today.”

  “That’s all you got? Come at four? Nothing more than that?”

  “That’s all I’m permitted to say.”

  Nick thought about it for a second, and realized that even if he wasn’t interested in the VP position, he was still a United States senator. Declining the president’s invitation wasn’t in his best interest. “Is it okay if I bring Terry?”

  “I’m sure that’ll be fine.”

  “We’ll be there.”

  “I’ll meet you at the West Wing visitor entrance.”

  Nick sent a text to Sam. Talked to Derek and I’ve been “invited” to the White House for a 4 pm meeting with Nelson...

  What does he want?

  Derek wouldn’t say.

  The plot thickens. What will you say if he asks you again?

  My answer hasn’t changed.

  Maybe you should consider it.

  Have you lost your mind since I saw you last?

  Power looks hot on you.

  LOL. Shut up.

  You shut up. Going back to work. Keep me posted.
<
br />   Will do. Love you, babe. Be careful out there.

  Always am.

  She made him smile with her witty comebacks, but he had no doubt that power wouldn’t look so good on her. She’d chafe against the confines with everything she had, and she’d come to hate him for forcing her into the gilded cage.

  No, his answer hadn’t changed, and he fully intended to tell President Nelson that when he saw him.

  Chapter Ten

  Sam arrived at the address Hill had given her in the city’s Northwest corner. He was waiting with Gonzo, Cruz and two other agents whom he introduced to her. “Sorry for the delay,” Sam said. “I had to do a dog-and-pony show with the press.”

  “No problem,” Hill said.

  “What’s the plan?” Sam asked.

  “We were just discussing that when you got here,” Gonzo said. “We’ve agreed to overwhelm them with our numbers so they know right away this is a big deal.”

  Freddie handed a bulletproof vest to Sam, and they suited up.

  “This is the home of the Mitchell family,” Hill said. “They have a seventeen-year-old son named Brody, who was a friend of Hugo Springer’s. We believe he’s the one we’re looking for.”

  “Who’s got the lead?” Sam asked.

  “You all do,” Hill said. “Your jurisdiction.”

  She looked at Gonzo. “What’s the plan, Sergeant?”

  “We’ll go in flashing badges and firepower. The goal is to locate Brody, get him to take down the video and photos while we watch and then take him into custody so we can get more information about what he saw at the Springer house and who else was at the party.”

  “Sounds good,” Sam said. “Let’s do it.”

  They approached the Mitchells’ front door as a group. The other two agents circled around the house to cover the back door while Sam, Gonzo, Freddie and Hill took the front.

  Gonzo made a fist and pounded on the front door. “Metro PD. Open up.”

  Inside, a dog howled with outrage.

  The door swung open and a woman stared at them with big eyes. “What’s this about?”

  “Detective Sergeant Gonzales, Metro PD. We’re looking for Brody Mitchell. Does he live here?”

  “Y-yes. Why?”

  “Is he home?”

  “He’s sleeping. What do you want with him?”

  “We’re going to need you to step aside, ma’am,” Gonzo said.

  Mrs. Mitchell did as directed, and they moved swiftly into the house. Sam and Freddie took the stairs to the second floor, opening doors until they found a teenage boy asleep in a messy room.

  “Wake up, Brody,” Sam said. The lump on the bed barely stirred, so she got down close to his ear. “Wake up!”

  He came to abruptly, recoiling when he saw cops with guns drawn standing over his bed. “What the hell?” His dark brown hair stood on end, and he hadn’t shaved in days. Sam decided he was probably popular with the girls, and she wondered if he, too, had taken a turn with Brooke.

  “Are you the douchebag that runs the WilsonSeniors account online?”

  “Uhh, I’m not at liberty to discuss that.”

  Freddie went to the door to call down to the others. “He’s up here.”

  Hoping to get his attention, Sam slipped the safety off her gun, which made an ominous-sounding clicking noise. “Get up. Now.”

  He zeroed in on the gun that was pointed at him. “I, uh, I don’t have any clothes on.”

  “Too bad. On your feet. Hands on your head.”

  Moving slowly, he got out of bed and did as directed. He was tall and lean with muscles in all the right places and sported a hard-on that stuck straight out in front of him.

  He flashed a grin that probably made the teenage girls swoon. “Morning wood.”

  Sam shuddered at the thought of his wood touching her niece. “Shut up and put some pants on.”

  Brody pulled on a pair of basketball shorts.

  “Get on the computer and open the WilsonSeniors account.”

  “I really can’t do that.”

  “Yes, you really can. The FBI has tracked the IP address for that account to this house, so we know it’s you. Now get on the computer and open the account before I lose my patience.”

  “You don’t want that to happen,” Freddie said. “She can be a bit trigger-happy when she loses her patience.”

  Brody wisely sighed and moved toward the laptop on a desk strewn with books and papers. He pressed the space bar to bring the computer to life and clicked around until the WilsonSeniors account opened.

  “Take down the video and pictures from the party at Hugo Springer’s house.”

  “What the fuck? We were just having some fun.”

  “Take. Them. Down. Now.”

  He did as he was told while Sam watched carefully to make sure he didn’t miss anything.

  “Now take them off all the other sites you manage. And if we find that you missed any, we’ll be adding to the list of charges you’re already facing.”

  It took more than ten minutes, but Brody systematically went through each social media site and removed the pictures and video.

  “Where’s your cell phone?” Sam asked.

  “Um, on the charger?”

  “Hand it over.”

  “What the hell for?”

  “I assume you used it to record that video and take those pictures?”

  Brody looked down at the floor, which was littered with sneakers and clothes and takeout coffee cups and other crap.

  “What’ve you done, Brody?” his mother asked from the door. Tears streamed down her face as she stared at her son.

  “Nothing, Mom.”

  “You told me you weren’t at the party where Hugo was killed. Was that a lie?”

  Brody crossed his arms and stared mulishly at the wall, which was covered with snowboarding posters and pictures of women in skimpy bikinis.

  From the doorway, Gonzo nodded to Sam.

  “Brody Mitchell, you have the right to remain silent,” Sam said as she cuffed him. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

  “Wait a minute! I’m under arrest? For what?”

  “For filming a gang rape, for one thing, and not doing anything to stop it or provide aid to the girl,” Gonzo said. “You’re also one of the only people who got out of that party alive. Suffice to say we’ve got a few questions for you.”

  “He’s a minor!” Mrs. Mitchell said. “You can’t just haul him out of here like a criminal.”

  “He may be a minor, but he witnessed a gang rape and did nothing at all to stop it,” Gonzo said. “Rather, he filmed it and posted the images to social media, so he faces felony rape and video voyeurism charges. He’s also a potential suspect in mass murder.”

  At that, all of Brody’s teenage bravado completely deserted him. “Mass murder? I didn’t kill anyone! I left before that happened! And I didn’t rape anyone!”

  Sam grabbed him by the arms and headed for the door. “So you say.”

  “Where are you taking him?” Mrs. Mitchell asked.

  “Metro PD headquarters.”

  “I’ll be right there, Brody,” his frantic mother called after him. “I’ll get you a lawyer, and we’ll get you out. Don’t say anything to them until your lawyer is there.”

  “That’s extremely bad advice, ma’am,” Sam said.

  “No, it isn’t.” Mrs. Mitchell’s tears had been replaced by rage. “I know how you people operate. He’ll say one wrong thing, and you’ll pin the whole thing on him. You’re not making my son into a murderer. Don’t say anything, Brody.”

  “I won’t, Mom. Hurry up and get me some help.”

  They hauled him out of the house and
into Gonzo’s car.

  “Since he’s lawyering up,” Sam said to Freddie, “let’s stay up here and get the family interviews we were assigned out of the way.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ve got Brody,” Gonzo said. “I’ll get him processed and into a room until the lawyer shows up.”

  “Run a check on the mother too,” Sam said, playing a hunch. “She was rather well informed on how we operate. Perhaps she’s had some personal experience.”

  “Good thinking,” Gonzo said. “I’ll check her out.”

  Turning to Hill and his agents, Sam said, “Thanks so much for your help with locating the IP. I feel better knowing those images are off the web.”

  “They may crop up again later,” one of the other agents said. “We’ll keep a lookout for them.”

  “I’d appreciate that.” She nodded to Freddie and they headed for her car, leaving his parked in front of the Mitchells’ house.

  “Do you think my precious baby will be safe here?” he asked, with a look back at his car.

  “If Mrs. Mitchell eggs it, it’ll only be an improvement.”

  “Very funny.”

  The banter helped to take their minds off the dreadful task that lay ahead.

  “Do you have addresses for the two families?”

  “Yeah. The Brantleys live pretty close to here.” He directed her to a stately colonial house on a quiet side street. Cars lined the road in front of the home.

  Sam parked and stared at the house for a moment. “I hate this.”

  “I do too. Let’s get it over with.”

  They walked up the sidewalk to the front door of a white house with black shutters and knocked on the door. An older woman answered. Her face was swollen from crying.

  Sam showed her badge. “Lieutenant Holland, Detective Cruz, to see Mr. or Mrs. Brantley.”

  “They aren’t seeing anyone right now. Can you come back later?”

  “I wish we could, and I’m very sorry to intrude at such a difficult time,” Sam said. “But we’re investigating a homicide, and time isn’t on our side. We’d really like to speak to them.”