by Marie Force
He pushed something hard against her ribs. “Don’t make any fast moves, sweetheart, or your family will be attending a funeral rather than a wedding.”
Sam cursed herself for being so stupid as to go out unarmed. She glanced up at the second floor of their house, where Nick was hopefully sleeping, unaware that she was in grave danger on the eve of their wedding. “What do you want?” she asked through gritted teeth.
“That’s more like it.” His lips brushed against her hair, and it was all Sam could do not to cringe. “You’re making a big mistake marrying that guy.”
“Is that so?”
“He doesn’t love you the way you deserve to be loved—the way I love you.”
Sam swallowed hard. “Peter, please. Let me go and get out of here before someone sees you and carts you back to jail.”
“There’s nowhere they can take me that’s worse than living without you.”
Sam swallowed hard. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”
“Are you really?”
“Of course I am. I never wanted you to be unhappy.”
“Then why did you leave me?”
Sam wanted to shove her elbow into his gut but the press of metal against her ribs kept her still. “I want you to let me go now. You need to find someone who loves you the way you deserve to be loved—”
“I don’t want anyone else,” he growled in her ear, tightening his hold on her to the point of pain. “What about that don’t you get?”
The click of a gun engaging sounded next to them.
“Let her go, and step back.”
“Who the hell are you?” Peter asked.
“Doesn’t matter who I am. You need to let her go right now unless you want me to make roadkill out of you.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Sam saw the lights go on in their place as she tried unsuccessfully to place the voice of her rescuer.
“This is not over,” Peter had whispered in her ear. “It’ll never be over.”
Well, it’s over now, Sam thought. Peter had pleaded to a misdemeanor harassment charge as well as a felony weapon charge and had been given three years’ supervised probation rather than the jail time he’d deserved. Only the fact that Nick had paid someone to watch over her had saved her life that night. Peter had managed to slide through the system like a slippery eel, getting less than he deserved in the way of punishment.
Brendan Sullivan, Peter’s probation officer, worked in a cubicle on the second floor. The young man seemed frazzled by the huge piles of manila folders that avalanched across his desk.
Sam flashed her badge.
Before she could introduce herself, he said, “I know who you are and why you’re here.”
She respected people who cut through the bullshit and got to the point.
“I made a copy of his file for you.”
“Now, see, Detective Cruz, this is the sort of cooperation we deserve and rarely get.”
“What do they say about busy people being the most efficient?” Brendan asked, grinning up at them.
“I’d like to have a reason to interview you every day,” Sam said.
“Now you’ve done it,” Freddie said.
They shared a laugh at her expense, and Brendan gestured for them to take the two visitor chairs in his tiny cubicle. “About your guy Gibson...”
“He wasn’t my guy,” Sam said. “Not anymore.”
“Right, but he was still extremely hung up on you. He talked about you a lot. I encouraged him to move on, but he seemed stuck. It was a point of contention between us.”
“You’re preaching to the choir,” Sam said.
“Separate from that, he did seem to be making an effort to get back on track. He was enjoying his new job at the mattress store and making some new friends.”
“Were you aware that he was part of several ongoing poker games?”
“No, I wasn’t.” Brendan’s expression hardened ever so slightly, enough that Sam picked up on it. “He was well aware that gambling of any kind was a probation violation.”
“If I were to give you a few names, perhaps you could check to see if any of them are in the active case file for your office.”
“And if they are?”
“They could possibly be brought in and compelled to tell us anything and everything they know about our friend Peter in exchange for no further action taken on the violations.”
“I might be able to arrange that.” He booted up his computer. “Who’ve you got?”
Sam gave him the names of Donny Bautista and Dwayne Rogers.
“Nothing for Bautista but Rogers is in our system, six months to go on probation for a misdemeanor weapons charge.”
“We spoke to him yesterday but didn’t get much. I’m thinking with only six months left to go, he might cooperate more with you guys than he did with us.”
Brendan stood. “Let me have a word with my boss. I’ll be right back.”
“I like him,” Sam said when she and Freddie were alone.
“That’s two people today that you’ve liked, more than all last year.”
Sam tried not to let him see her amusement. “What can I say? People usually piss me off.”
While she had a minute, she checked her phone, hoping for word from either Nick or Shelby. She fired off a text to Avery.
Are you with Shelby? Any news?
He responded right away.
I’m at the hospital, but she won’t let me in the room. They just took her to delivery.
Sam’s heart broke at the thought of Shelby giving birth without anyone she loved by her side.
Keep me posted.
Will do.
What a fucking mess.
“Everything okay?” Freddie asked, looking up from his phone.
“Shelby’s in labor.”
“Oh, wow. That’s exciting.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s hard for you,” he said, “to have another baby coming into your world.”
Sam didn’t bother to tell him that Shelby had quit, because she still hoped she could talk her out of that. “It’s not as bad as it was before we adopted Scotty.”
“That’s good. I’m glad.”
Brendan returned and took a seat behind his desk. “My boss is on board. We’ll set something up with Rogers and let you know if we get anything.”
Sam handed over her business card. “My cell number is on the back. Appreciate the assist and the unprecedented cooperation.”
“Anytime,” Sullivan said.
“What’s next?” Freddie asked as they took the stairs to the main floor.
“We need to see McTavish, and then I want to talk to Peter’s mother again.”
“You do? Really?”
“She may know something that could help and not realize it. I want to go through her last few conversations with Peter and see if she can give us any insight. Call Lindsey and find out if Irma told her where she’d be staying.”
“Got it.”
“While we’re in the neighborhood, I want to see Will.”
The other detectives had teased Will about living within walking distance of HQ, but that made things convenient now. While Freddie talked to Lindsey, Sam pulled the BMW into traffic and dodged an oncoming car that drifted over the centerline.
“Freaking texting while driving,” she said.
“Who is?”
“The guy who almost just hit us head-on.”
“How’d I miss that?”
“Your love affair with your smartphone. You’re missing life’s finer details.”
“If you say so,” he said with a dirty-sounding chuckle.
“Ew, don’t be gross. Talk to me about Will. How should I play this?”
Freddie stared at her, mouth agog.
“Shut your mouth!”
“You’re asking me for management advice? Pardon me while I enjoy this moment.”
“When you get done enjoying it, maybe you can answer the question?”
“Truthfully? If I were you, I wouldn’t try to talk him out of it.”
“You’ve changed your tune.”
“I was talking to Elin about it last night, and she helped me to see that Will is doing what’s best for him even if it’s not what’s best for us.”
“Elin is very wise.”
“You and I...we could never imagine leaving the job. It’s hard for us to understand how someone might make that decision.”
Sam parked on the 900 block of G Street and then thought about what he’d said for a minute. “It’s possible,” she said haltingly, “that you and I haven’t yet experienced the thing that could drive us from the job. If, for example, something were to happen to you, I might lose my taste for it, you know?”
He studied her for a long moment. “And vice versa. Under those conditions, I guess it would make sense.”
After they got out of the car, Sam said, “Let’s hope we never have to make the kind of decision Will made.”
“I knew you loved me,” he said, low enough that she might’ve missed it if she hadn’t been expecting it.
“I never said that.”
“Yes, you did.”
“When did I say that?”
“You said it.”
“Pipe down.” Sam rang the doorbell.
“You said it.”
She caught him in the ribs with her elbow.
Freddie gasped from the impact and then laughed.
The door opened, and Will seemed surprised to see them. “Hey,” he said, “come in.”
“Hope we’re not disturbing you,” Sam said.
“No, not at all. It’s good to see you guys. You want coffee?”
“Wouldn’t say no to that,” Freddie said.
“If you’re making it, I’ll have some,” Sam said.
“Sure, no problem.” Wearing basketball shorts and a Georgetown T-shirt, Will led them into a modern kitchen. Other than looking a little tired, he seemed okay, which was a relief to Sam.
“Sorry I haven’t gotten here before now,” Sam said.
“I heard you’ve been a little busy,” Will replied with a small smile as he made the coffee.
“Another week, another round of insanity,” she said.
“But this one hit close to home. I’m not sure if it’s appropriate to offer condolences, but you have them nonetheless.”
“Thank you, but we aren’t here to talk about him. We want to talk about you and how you’re doing.”
“I’m... I’m better than I was before I made a decision and put it into effect.”
“And you’re absolutely certain it’s the right decision?”
“Yes, ma’am. I am. It’s the right thing for me and the squad. You don’t need someone whose mind isn’t in the game, and mine isn’t. Not anymore.”
“Fair enough. You probably expected me to try to talk you out of it, but I’m not going to do that. All I’ll say is if you change your mind at any point in the future, let me know. My door is always open. If you wake up a year from now and say ‘What the hell did I do?’ call me. If I can undo it, I will.”
“That’s good to know, Lieutenant. Thank you.”
“You probably ought to call me Sam now that you no longer work for me and we’re going to be just friends.”
“Are we?” he asked with a hopeful look on his face that tugged at her emotions.
“Going to be friends? Hell yes we are. I don’t let good people get away.”
“I’m really glad to hear that. I was most afraid of losing all of you in my life if I left the department.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Freddie said.
“We’ve got a wedding to go to this weekend and lots of other stuff to look forward to,” Sam added.
“I appreciate the support,” Will said. “More than you could ever know.”
“There’s one thing I want to say, and I want you to really listen to me on this.”
“Okay...”
“You helped to put away a lot of people in your time on the job. Those people have friends, family, associates. You’re no longer walking around the city with the protection of a badge, a weapon and an entire department of brothers and sisters who have your back. Be careful. Be vigilant.”
“I hear what you’re saying, and I’ve applied for a concealed-carry license.”
“That’s probably not a bad idea.” Sam’s cell phone rang, and she checked the caller ID. Not recognizing the number, she stood. “I need to take this. Be right back.” She left the kitchen and went into Will’s living room, where a big flat-screen TV was the main attraction. “Holland.”
“This is Brendan Sullivan. Rogers is on his way in.”
“Let me know how you make out.”
“You got it.”
Sam ended the call and went back to the kitchen to update Freddie.
“What’ve you got on Gibson?” Will asked.
“Not much yet, but we’re putting the pieces together.”
“What’re you going to do for work, Will?” Freddie asked.
“I’ve got a few feelers out for security jobs. One of them looks promising. We’ll see. I’ve got savings, and that buys me time to figure it out.”
“If you need a reference, you know where I am,” Sam said.
“I was sort of counting on that,” Will said with a grin.
“Well then, I guess we’ll see you at the wedding?”
“Yes, you will.”
Sam extended a hand to him. “It was an honor and a privilege to work with you. I wish you the best of everything going forward.”
“Lieutenant,” Will said gruffly as he shook her hand, “believe me when I say the honor and privilege were all mine.”
Sam dropped his hand and hugged him. “Take care of yourself.”
He returned her embrace. “You do the same.”
“Let’s get back to it, Cruz,” Sam said, looking to recapture her equilibrium after the emotional visit with Will.
He saw them out and waved from the doorway as they got back into her car.
“He seems good,” Freddie said.
“Yep.”
“Are you okay?”
“I hate to lose good people, but it seems like he’s made the best possible decision for himself. That’s what matters. And he’s right—we don’t want him on the job if he doesn’t want to be there. That’s not in anyone’s best interest.”
“I just wish it hadn’t come to this.”
“I know. We all do.”
“It’s going to be weird with new people in the squad.”
“Nothing lasts forever.”
“Well, that’s a cheery thought.”
“That’s me—an endless font of cheerfulness and optimism.”
His snort of laughter was exactly what she expected from him. “Where’re we heading now?”
“To talk to McTavish.” They found the disgraced councilman at home in Georgetown, though how he had managed to hold on to property in that neighborhood after all his assets had been frozen was anyone’s guess.
Sam rang the doorbell to his fancy townhouse. “You ever notice that rich people’s doorbells are louder than regular people’s?”
“Can’t say I have.”
“Pay attention to that going forward. You can tell a lot about a person by how loud their doorbell is.”
“I’ll file that piece of wisdom away on the spreadsheet with all the other tidbits y
ou’ve shared over the years.”
Sam peered inside the beveled windowpanes next to the door. “You don’t really have a spreadsheet.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
She rang the bell again, smiling smugly at Freddie as the bells chimed like Notre Dame inside the spacious home. “Hear that? Pretentiousness at its very best.”
“I hear it. What I don’t hear is someone coming to answer the door.”
Sam placed a call to Robach, who picked up on the second ring. “Your boy McTavish isn’t answering his door. Isn’t he supposed to be home?”
“Yep. Let me call him. I’ll get right back to you.”
The line went dead and she closed her phone. “I really liked that Sullivan guy so much.”
“I wonder if he knows how lucky he is. You don’t like anyone.”
“I do tend to hate people. That’s true.” Her phone rang and she took the call from Robach.
“He said he was asleep and didn’t hear the doorbell.”
Sam rolled her eyes at Freddie. “If he’d been dead he would’ve heard that doorbell. Here he comes now. Thanks for the help.” She stashed her phone and had her badge ready by the time McTavish opened the door, looking disheveled. He wore a Washington Capitals T-shirt with ratty sweats and looked nothing at all like the sharp-dressed councilman he’d once been.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“Good morning to you too,” Sam said. “I’m Lieutenant Holland and this is my partner, Detective Cruz. We’d like to speak to you about Peter Gibson?”
“Who?” To his credit, McTavish kept his expression completely blank.
“One of the top deputies in your alleged gambling operation until you were arrested. Ring any bells?” She wished she could laugh at her own joke.
“A. I didn’t run a gambling operation. B. As I didn’t run a gambling operation, I didn’t have deputies. C. I have no idea who you’re talking about.”
“Or D. All of the above,” Sam said, earning a glare from McTavish. “Detective Cruz, show Mr. McTavish some of Peter’s autopsy photos. Maybe that will help to jar his memory.”
Using his smartphone, Freddie called up the photos.
Sam took great pleasure in watching McTavish go pale as he viewed the photos of what’d been done to Peter. “Ringing any bells now?”
