by Linda Howard
“Oh, I needed that,” Tracy, who at forty was the oldest, said as she exhaled a steady stream of smoke. She shared Sam’s height but had held on to ten extra pounds after each of her three children.
Angela, at thirty-six, had bounced right back to her svelte shape after giving birth to her son Jack five years earlier.
The door swung open, and Angela stashed the cigarette behind her back.
“Mom, Jack is walking back and forth in front of the TV and won’t stop,” whined fifteen-year-old Brooke, brimming with indignation. Her long dark hair, bright blue eyes and porcelain skin gave her a delicate beauty that was a source of great consternation to her parents as the boys began to take an avid interest in her.
“Sorry,” Angela said. “I’ll get him.”
Tracy stopped her sister and said to her daughter, “Turn off the TV and spend some time with your cousin. All he wants is your attention.”
In a huff, Brooke stomped back inside.
“Sorry about that,” Angela said. “He loves being with the kids.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Tracy said. “They watch enough TV at home. They don’t need to do it here, too.”
The door opened again, and this time Sam stashed the cigarette behind her back when she saw it was Nick.
“I was wondering where you all had disappeared to, and your father suggested I check the front porch where I’d find the three of you sharing a cigarette that you think no one knows about. I said, ‘What do you mean, Skip? Samantha doesn’t smoke.’”
Behind her back, Sam transferred the cigarette to Angela in a move they had perfected over the years. She smiled at Nick. “Of course I don’t smoke. Did you need me?”
“I was going to ask if you’d mind if we go to my place tonight.”
“I don’t mind. I’ll be in shortly, and we can take off.”
“Okay.”
The moment the door closed behind him, Angela took a drag off the dwindling cigarette. “Mmm. Hubba hubba.”
Her sisters stared at her.
“Did you seriously just say ‘hubba hubba’?” Tracy asked.
“Well, come on. He’s yummy. And did he call you Samantha?”
Sam shrugged as her cheeks heated with embarrassment. “He likes to call me that.”
“You must really dig him to put up with that,” Ang said. “How’s the sex?”
“Angela!” Tracy said.
“What? Don’t tell me you don’t want to know, too.”
They waited expectantly for Sam.
“It’s…you know…amazing.”
“I remember amazing sex,” Tracy said with a sigh. “At least I think I do.”
“Stop,” Angela said, bumping Tracy with her hip. “Mike’s still hot for you.”
“Yeah, I guess. So, Sam, I didn’t want to ask in front of the kids, but this insanity with Peter…Are you okay?”
“It’s kind of overwhelming to know he hates me enough to want to kill me.”
“I think it’s more that in his own sick, twisted way he loves you that much,” Tracy said.
Angela nodded in agreement.
Sam told them about meeting Nick years ago and what Peter had done to keep them apart.
“Motherfucker,” Angela muttered.
Sam laughed as she extinguished the cigarette. The sick feeling in her stomach and the lingering foul taste reminded her of why she’d quit smoking years ago. “Tell me how you really feel, Ang.”
“I hate that bastard.”
“So do I,” Tracy said. “Divorcing him was the best thing you ever did. I couldn’t stand the way he always had to know where you were and what you were doing. He never would’ve gone back inside the way Nick did just now. He would’ve wanted to know what we were talking about.”
“I know,” Sam said. “When I think about him not giving me those messages…I really wanted to hear from Nick after that night.”
“You might’ve missed the whole Peter saga altogether,” Tracy said.
“Maybe everything that happened with Peter, with the babies and stuff, would’ve happened with Nick and it would’ve screwed us up just as bad.”
Her sisters each slid an arm around her.
“There’s no point in going there, Sam,” Tracy said.
“I haven’t had a chance to tell Nick the whole story.”
“It won’t matter to him,” Ang assured her. “He’s mad about you. He never takes his eyes off you, but not in the creepy way Peter used to. More of an adoring way.”
“He didn’t have a family growing up, and I know he wants one.”
“There’re other ways, hon,” Tracy said. “You know that. Don’t worry about it right now. Enjoy this time with him. You deserve to be happy after everything you’ve been through.”
“Thank you,” Sam said, hugging them. “I’m so glad you guys like him.”
“Hubba hubba,” Ang said again, and they all laughed.
“Now how about Dad and Celia?” Sam said.
*
Just as Sam and Nick were getting ready to leave Skip’s house, Freddie called. “We’ve got another body, Sergeant.”
A burst of adrenaline zipped through Sam. “Who?”
“Tara Davenport.”
“Oh, shit,” Sam sighed, remembering the timid Capitol Hill waitress they’d interviewed. “Where?”
“Her apartment.” Freddie rattled off the address. “It’s bad, Sam. Whoever did this made sure she suffered.”
“I’m on my way.”
Nick insisted on driving her to the scene. On the way, Sam pumped him for information about Tara.
“She was so sweet,” he said. “We always requested her section when we went in for lunch. I can’t believe anyone would want to harm her.”
“No way this is a coincidence. This has got to be tied to O’Connor. Did he tell you he was dating her?”
“He never came right out and discussed it with me, but I knew. He was so much older than her. I’m sure he thought I wouldn’t approve.”
“Did you?”
“Not really, but they were both consenting adults, so I kept my opinions to myself.”
Since emergency vehicles had surrounded Tara’s apartment building, Sam told him to double-park.
Freddie met them at the door to Tara’s apartment, his expression grim. “Beaten, bound, raped and strangled.”
Steeling herself, Sam followed him into the bedroom. “God almighty,” she whispered at the sight of a bloodbath.
Behind her, Nick gasped.
Sam spun around. “You need to step back.” Realizing he was on the verge of passing out, she rushed him into a chair and pushed his head between his knees. “Breathe.”
“I’m okay,” he muttered, looking up at her. His eyes glazed with shock, he shook his head. “Who could do that? Who?”
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”
“Go ahead. Sorry to wimp out.”
Sam left him in the living room and returned to the bedroom as Freddie took photos of the scene. Tara had been bound, gagged and, judging by the bloody pool between her legs, repeatedly raped.
“Who found her?” Sam asked Freddie.
“One of her coworkers got the super to let her in when she didn’t show up for work for the second day in a row.”
Dr. Lindsey McNamara, the medical examiner, stepped into the room. “Damn. Just when you think you’ve seen it all…”
“No kidding,” Sam said.
One of the crime scene officers lifted a baseball bat from the floor. Blood stained the thick end of the barrel. “Looks like this was used for the beating, among other things…”
The women in the room winced.
Sam studied the young waitress who’d been so distraught over her breakup with John O’Connor. “How long has she been dead?”
Lindsey pulled on latex gloves and reached out to close Tara’s eyes. “Looks like twenty to thirty hours, but I won’t know for sure until I get her into the lab.”
“I need a time of death ASAP so I can get a timeline going.”
Lindsey nodded. “Who did this to you, sweetie?” the kind-hearted doctor whispered. “Don’t you worry. We’ll get them.” Lindsey shifted her green eyes to Sam. “Won’t we?”
“You bet your ass we will.”
*
“Go pick up Elin Svendsen,” Sam said to Freddie, working a hunch.
“Really?” The spark of excitement in his voice wasn’t lost on Sam. “Will I get hardship duty pay for that?”
“Take her to a hotel and arrange for round-the-clock coverage.”
“Got it—take goddess to hotel and watch over her. I think I can handle that.”
Sam was relieved to hear him joking again after the hideous two hours they’d just put in at Tara’s. “I’m going to send Gonzo out to Belle Haven to pick up the Jordans, too. I want her under protection.”
“Noel passed the polygraph.”
“Yeah, I got that word an hour ago.”
“What’re you thinking, boss?”
“Did Patricia Donaldson tell you where she’d be staying in the city when she came for O’Connor’s funeral?”
His brows furrowing with skepticism, he said, “No, but I can try to find out.”
“Do that. I could be wrong, but I’m going to pull her credit card records to see if she recently bought a plane ticket to Washington.”
“Come on, Sam, you’re not thinking it’s her…That woman was madly in love with him.”
“And he was fucking his way through the city while she raised his son in Siberia.” Here was the buzz that came when all the pieces started to fall into place. “I’ll pull the records, you find Elin.”
Sobering, Freddie said, “You can count on me to take very good care of her.”
Sam rolled her eyes. “Go easy. You might sprain something.”
*
Emerging from Tara’s apartment building, Sam found Nick leaning against her car. “Aren’t you freezing?”
“The cold feels good.” His face was pale, his eyes watering from the cold or maybe the emotion.
“You shouldn’t have followed me in there. I told you to stay here.”
“I don’t know how you do it,” he said softly. “How you can stand seeing stuff like that day after day? I’ll never forget what I saw in there.”
“I wish I could say it’s the first time I’ve seen something like that.”
He reached for her, but Sam shook him off. “No PDA when the place is swarming with cops,” she growled.
Jamming his hands into his pockets, he seemed to be making an effort to bite his tongue.
Sam unclipped her hair and ran her fingers through it. “I need some computer time. Do you mind dropping me at HQ?”
“Does it have to be there? You could get online at my house.”
She consulted her watch. Ten-forty. “I suppose that would work.”
Nick offered to drive her car to Arlington, and Sam was tired enough after the long, draining day to let him.
“This is the time to be on the road.” She gestured to the deserted stretch of I-395 as they passed the Jefferson Memorial on their way to the 14th Street Bridge.
“If only it was like this in the morning.”
She turned her head so she could see his profile in the orange glow of the streetlights. Anxious to get both their minds off the horror they’d witnessed at Tara’s, Sam said, “So tell me, did my family overwhelm you?”
“What? No, of course not. Everyone was really nice.”
“They liked you.”
“What’s the story with your brother-in-law Spencer?”
Sam smiled. “He’s a bit much, huh?”
“Ah, yeah. Got a big opinion of himself.”
“We only put up with him because he worships the ground Angela walks on. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for her.”
“Mike’s a lot more normal.”
“I adore him.”
Nick shot her a meaningful glance.
“Not like that,” Sam said, laughing. “I just give him so much credit. He’s raising Brooke like she’s his own—”
“She’s not?”
Sam shook her head. “Her father was a guy Tracy dated briefly. When they found out she was pregnant he hit the road, and she never heard from him again. She met Mike a couple of years later. After they got married, he adopted Brooke.”
“You’d never know she wasn’t his.”
“That’s why I love him so much. We all do. He doesn’t treat her any differently than he does Abby or Ethan.”
“No, he certainly doesn’t,” Nick agreed. “I like him even more knowing that about him.”
“He’s the big brother I never had.”
“Which is why he thoroughly grilled me about where I came from, where I’m going and what my intentions are toward you.”
“He did not,” Sam said, astounded.
“Yes, he did. And he made sure your father was able to hear the interrogation. In fact, I’ll bet Skip put him up to it.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it.” Turning in her seat, she leaned over to plant a wet kiss on his neck. “Thank you for putting up with that.” Because he deserved it after dealing with her family, she tossed in some tongue action, too.
The car swerved. “Hello? I’m going seventy over here!”
She ran her hand up his thigh. “Want to go for eighty?”
He caught her hand the instant before it reached the promised land. “Behave.”
“So what did you tell Mike?” she asked, resting her head on his shoulder.
Bringing their joined hands to his lips, he pressed a kiss to the back of hers. “That I’ve always loved you, and I always will.”
Sam sighed with contentment. “I like hearing that.”
“Do you know why I wanted to go home tonight?”
“Nope.”
“I found out today that you love me, too. I wanted to be alone with you tonight.”
A tremble of anticipation rippled through her. “You knew before today.”
“I suspected and I hoped, but I didn’t know for sure. I worried that maybe we were both caught up in the craziness of the last week.”
She raised her head from his shoulder. “Did you really think that was possible?”
He shrugged. “I was afraid I wanted you too much and that somehow I’d screw it up. I almost did a few times.”
“I hate knowing you felt that way.” Returning her head to his shoulder, she was struck by how alone he was and how badly she wanted to surround him with the love he’d missed out on while growing up without a family. A lump formed in her throat when she thought of one thing he wanted that she couldn’t give him.
They rode the rest of the way in silence, both wrapped up in their own thoughts.
Entering his house through the front door, he took her coat and hung it in the hall closet.
“What happened to all the glass?” she asked.
“I paid my cleaning lady double to come in today and deal with it, but we probably shouldn’t walk around barefoot for a while.”
“How’s your foot?”
“Sore.”
She winced. “And I had you out walking on it earlier. I never even thought about it. I’m sorry.”
He leaned in to kiss her. “No worries, babe. Computer’s in the office. I’ll take our stuff upstairs.”
“Thanks. I’ll be quick.”
“Take your time. I’ve got to finish my eulogy.”
She went up on tiptoes to kiss him while wishing there was something she could say to ease his pain. But knowing only time could do that, she let him go and headed for his office. Kicking off her shoes, she sat down to boot up his computer. Before she got to the research she planned to do, she wrote the report on the incident at Eastern Market and saved it to Nick’s desktop.
While she waited on the police department system to log her in, she took note of the fastidious order on the dark cherry-wood desktop. Feeling mischievous, she nudged
the pile of books out of alignment, shifted the container of paperclips so it was off center, turned all the black pens in the pen cup upside down and drew a heart with an arrow through the Sam loves Nick she had written on the blotter.
Pleased with her handiwork, she turned her attention to Patricia Davidson’s credit card records. Scanning through the pages, her eyes began to blur with fatigue until she stopped short on an airline charge from two days before John’s death. “Well, look at you, Miss Patricia,” Sam whispered, the kick of adrenaline making her heart beat faster. “Gotcha!”
She took a moment to look the woman up online get a visual on her before she called Freddie. “Have you got Elin?”
“We’re on our way.” He named one of the city’s best hotels.
“Jeez, spare no expense, why dontcha,” she muttered, imagining the grief she’d get when that expense report landed on Malone’s desk.
“Just following orders, Sergeant.”
“Patricia Donaldson bought a seat on a flight from Chicago to Washington the day before O’Connor’s murder.”
Freddie released a long deep breath. “Wow. I totally missed this one. I’m sorry.”
“We all missed it.”
“But I interviewed her. I should’ve caught the vibe—”
“Knock it off, Cruz.”
“I don’t see her having the strength to get that knife through O’Connor’s neck. She was almost fragile.”
“Rage can make people a lot stronger than normal.”
“Yeah, I guess. Would she have a key to his apartment?”
“Maybe she came for conjugals once in a while. It wouldn’t surprise me that she had a key—I mean who didn’t have a key to that place?”
“Right. And don’t forget, he could’ve let the killer in after he got home.”
“I still say he was taken by surprise since he was murdered in bed. Anyway, don’t let Elin out of your sight, do you hear me?”
“It’s a tough job, but someone’s got to do it.”
CHAPTER 33
Sam ended the call and sat back in the big leather chair. Closing her eyes, she let her mind wander through the parts and pieces, hoping something would start to add up. The frustration was starting to get to her as day after day went by without the big break she needed to wrap this up. I’m missing something. Something big. But what?
