Fatal Deception

by Marie Force

  “Hi, Sam,” Celia said, coming from the kitchen to take a close look at Sam’s face. “Well, I suppose it could be worse.”

  “How could it be worse?”

  “Um, I’m not sure.”

  “Nick’s fundraiser is tonight, and I have to go looking like this.”

  “Tracy was here. She said she found just the thing to cover up the bruises.”

  “Does it come with a rolling pan?” Sam asked.

  Celia laughed. “She never mentioned a roller, but she said it works miracles, and they use it on movie sets. Apparently, she did some research after she heard what happened earlier.”

  “I have the best sisters in the whole world.” They were always there for her when she needed them. “Have you talked to Ang today?” The younger of Sam’s two older sisters was due to deliver her second child any day now.

  “I was over there earlier. She’s absolutely miserable. The heat isn’t helping anything.”

  “It’ll be over soon.” And then her sister would have a second beautiful child while Sam was still hoping to have her first someday. “Could I ask you something?”

  “Of course, honey. Anything.”

  “So you know how I thought I couldn’t get pregnant...”

  She nodded. “I know the last miscarriage was a terrible blow, but at least you know now that you can get pregnant.”

  “That’s sort of the problem. How do I risk that happening again? It was almost more bearable when I thought I couldn’t get pregnant.”

  “I can see how knowing you can conceive would torment you after all you’ve been through.”

  “The three-month birth-control shot I had before the wedding is wearing off.”

  “I didn’t realize you’d done that. I have to admit that’s a bit of a relief to know you were using birth control. I kept hoping you’d conceive again.”

  “I needed some time to decide if I want to go down that road again.”

  “What does Nick say?”

  “That it’s up to me. Whatever I want is what he wants.”

  Celia rested a hand on Sam’s arm. “Why am I not surprised? He’s such a sweetheart.”

  “Yes, he really is, and he’s been terrific about this situation from the beginning.” Sam took a deep, shuddering breath. With everything else she had going on today, she had no business wandering down this fraught path, but the impending birth of her new niece had stirred up all the old feelings. “They’re so good to me, and I love them more than almost anyone, but I’m so jealous of Tracy and Ang,” she said softly. “Isn’t that an awful thing to say?”

  “No, honey. It’s totally understandable. They have the one thing you’ve been denied. Of course you’re jealous.” Celia wrapped her up in a tight hug. “Want to know what I’d do if I were you?”

  Sam nodded. At some point in the last few months, her new stepmother had become one of her closest friends.

  “Give it one more try. Go in knowing it could go either way, and be prepared to accept any and all consequences. If it doesn’t work, be done with it and examine other options. If you don’t try once more, you’re apt to spend the rest of your life regretting it and wondering what might’ve been.”

  “It all sounds so simple when you put it that way.” Sam swiped at the tears that suddenly dampened her face. So predictable. She couldn’t speak of this issue without tears.

  “I don’t mean to make light of what you’ve been through. Four miscarriages would be enough to break anyone’s spirit.”

  “You make a good point,” Sam said. “I’d always wonder what might’ve happened if I tried one more time.”

  “Tried what?” Skip asked as he wheeled his chair into the room.

  “To have a baby,” Sam said, brushing away the last of the tears, because she knew they’d upset him. She gasped when her hand connected with her injured face.

  “Are you, uh, you know...”

  “Pregnant?” Sam asked, amused by his reaction. He still liked to think his three little girls were untouched despite evidence to the contrary. “Not at the moment.”

  “Oh, um. Okay.”

  “But I might be before much longer,” she said, realizing her stepmother’s wise words had pushed her to a decision. She’d try one more time.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asked haltingly.

  “Hell, no, I’m not sure of anything. It’s probably a terrible idea. But Celia is right when she says I’ll always wonder what might’ve been if I don’t try once more.”

  “I don’t know if I could stand to watch you go through that again, baby girl.”

  “I don’t know if I could stand it, either, but how do I not try now that I know it’s possible?” Goddamned tears. She fucking hated that she couldn’t get through a single conversation on this issue without them.

  Celia handed Sam a tissue.

  She wiped the tears from her sore face. “This isn’t even what I came here to talk to you about.”

  “What’s up?” her dad asked.

  “Work stuff.”

  “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me,” Celia said. She kissed Sam’s forehead. “Hang in there, honey. I know it’s a tough decision, and we’re here for you no matter what.”

  “Thank you. That helps.”

  Celia left the room, and Skip turned his gaze on Sam.

  She made an effort to clear her mind and get her emotions under control. “I talked to McBride and Tyrone.”

  “And?”

  Sam dropped onto the sofa and forced herself to make eye contact with him when she’d rather be looking anywhere but into his intense gaze. “They lied.”

  “About?”

  “They said they hadn’t uncovered anything new, but they discovered several leads that should’ve been followed up on. They were surprised you hadn’t done that.”

  He didn’t blink when he said, “Why did they lie? Did they say?”

  “You were in the hospital. We weren’t sure you were going to make it. They were concerned about your reputation and wanted to spare me the added worry when I was already so wound up about you.”

  “So what now?”

  “I’m not entirely sure, to be honest. I only found this out a short time ago. I suspended both of them for a week without pay.”

  “Because they lied to you.”

  “Yes.”

  “I suppose you had no choice.”

  Sam wanted to scream at him to tell her why he’d left loose ends in a murder investigation. “No, I didn’t, but I don’t plan to tell anyone else why I suspended them, so I’d appreciate if you didn’t either.”

  “If they contest it, you’ll have to tell IAB.”

  “They won’t contest it.” She paused, waited, hoped he’d say something more, but he didn’t. “You’re not going to tell me why?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  Astounded, Sam stared at him. “Seriously? You’re going to blow me off?”

  “I’m going to tell you the same thing I told you the first time we talked about this case. Remember?”

  “How could I forget? It was the day you were shot.”

  “And what did I say then?”

  “You said to leave it alone.”

  “I say the same thing now.”

  “How do you expect me to leave it alone?” She got up from the sofa so she could pace off some of the energy zipping through her veins. “I’ve got two detectives who know there was more to the story than what you reported. What do you expect me to do about that?”

  “I suppose that’s up to you, isn’t it? If you’d done what I’d told you and stayed out of it, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, would we?”

  “You’re putting me in an impossible situation.”

  “You put yourself there.”

  “I did this for you! To clear up your last open case! It got Jeannie back to work after the attack. I thought I was doing a good thing.”

  “You did a good thing giving her a cold case. That was a smart mov
e. It’s too bad you gave her this one.”

  “I’m sure she’d agree, since the detective in charge of the case is stonewalling us. And the investigation got her suspended.” Sam released her long hair from the clip she’d worn to work and ran her fingers through it. “What am I supposed to do now?”

  “Let. It. Go. That’s what you do.”

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  His fierce stare answered for him. Whatever he was hiding, he had no plans to share it with her.

  “Great,” Sam said. “Thanks a lot for your help. I really appreciate this. I can’t tell you how much. Tell Celia I’ll see her tomorrow.” She’d reached the door before another thought hit her, so big and so overwhelming it took her breath away. Turning back to her father, she said, “Does this have something to do with why you were shot? Have you known all along who shot you and you’ve let me chase my tail?”

  “No! Absolutely not. I have no idea who shot me. I swear to you.”

  Sam wanted to sag under the weight of the relief but refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing how undone she was. Without another word, she walked out of his house and down the ramp to the sidewalk. Other than the day they’d had words about the Fitzgerald case and his dismay over her choice to marry Peter Gibson, Sam couldn’t remember a time when she’d been so angry with him—or so disappointed in him. It was their job to get justice for those who couldn’t get it for themselves. He’d owed Tyler Fitzgerald more than to let obvious leads go uninvestigated.

  A glance at her cell phone told her the visit to her dad’s house had taken far longer than the few minutes she’d intended. It was now five after six. She rushed up the ramp and into her own house.

  Only the sight of her sexy husband in a tuxedo could wipe the last twenty minutes from her mind. Seeing him in formal attire took her right back to the best day of her life. “Sorry. I know I’m late, but I’ll be quick.”

  He stopped her from rushing past him to the stairs. “Have you been crying?”

  Leave it to him to notice. “Maybe a little.”

  “Over what?”

  “Celia and I were talking about the issue.” Sam knew she didn’t need to say anything more. He would know.

  His brows knitted with concern. “And?”

  She went up on tiptoes to kiss him and realized she was going to have to give up kissing until her face healed. “Let’s talk about it in the car, okay?”

  “Sure. Tracy’s upstairs with her magic makeup.”

  “She’s always thinking, that one.”

  “Good thing, huh?” he asked with barely concealed humor.

  “Shut up and let me go. My husband will be pissed if I’m not ready on time.”

  “By all means. Go on ahead. We don’t want him pissed with you.”

  “No, we don’t.” Sam scurried up the stairs. “He’s far too fond of make-up sex.”

  That got a chuckle out of him. “Sam,” he called after her.

  She turned to him. “Yeah?”

  “Don’t bother with the paint if it hurts to put it on.”

  Only half her face cooperated when she tried to smile. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’ll be quick.” In her bedroom, she called for Tracy, who came out of the adjoining bathroom and flinched when she caught a first glimpse of Sam’s face.

  “Holy shit,” she whispered. “Does it hurt like a mo-fo?”

  “Sure does. I’ve been popping pills all afternoon.”

  “Should you stay home tonight?”

  “Probably, but I can’t do that to him, Trace. We’re all about my work all the time around here. It’s his turn. Plus, Scotty will be there, but Nick doesn’t know that.”

  “You’ll surely make a stir, not that you don’t always.”

  “I heard you have some magic cover-up that’ll make me as good as new.”

  Tracy snorted with laughter. “You’d need actual paint to cover that mess.”

  “Aw, now you’re hurting my feelings.”

  “Let’s see what we can do.” Tracy led her into the bathroom where she’d laid out her makeup case.

  “Any word on Ang?” Sam asked as she took a seat in the chair that Tracy had dragged in from the bedroom.

  “Nothing but a whole lot of bitching. She’s in the beyond-uncomfortable stage of pregnancy. Sucks.”

  The words “I wouldn’t know” were on the tip of Sam’s tongue, but she held them back, not wanting to make Tracy feel bad. As she settled into the chair, exhaustion seized her, and she wondered how she would possibly get through the long night of schmoozing.

  Tracy produced a huge foam cup of coffee and handed it to her sister.

  “Jesus, Trace, do you think of everything?”

  “I try.”

  “You’re so good to me.”

  “That’s what big sisters are for.”

  “I’m nowhere near as good to you as you are to me.”

  “Seriously? What about all the years I was a single mom and you took Brooke on the weekends? I’ll never be able to repay you for that.”

  “That’s true.” Sam took a big drink of coffee. “I don’t feel so bad anymore.”

  “Ha! You got over that pretty quick.”

  “How’re things with Brooke?”

  “Awful. She’s so damned willful and mouthy.”

  “Can’t imagine where she gets that from.”

  “I know! I tell Mike every day that she’s just like her Auntie Sam.”

  Sam laughed. “How’d that go so wrong on me?”

  Tracy smiled as she worked with intense concentration. “That was a softball.”

  “You’re okay, though, right?”

  “I’m told it gets better, but I hate to say I’m counting the days until she graduates next June and goes away to college. We could all use a break from the war zone.”

  Sam met her sister’s gaze in the mirror. “I know you’ve already got enough going on, but I need to talk to you about something else.”

  Tracy paused in her application of makeup to the uninjured side of Sam’s face. “Okay.”

  “Remember when Dad was in the hospital in April and I told you I’d reopened Fitzgerald?”

  “What about it?”

  “You said something then about what was going on between Mom and Dad at that time and how I was too young to remember. What were you talking about?”

  “It’s all ancient history, Sam. Why do you care now?”

  “Humor me, will you?”

  “I don’t know anything for sure. I only have my own suspicions.”

  “About?”

  “Right around the time that Dad caught the Fitzgerald case, Mom accused him of having an affair. That was the first time she moved out.”

  Sam tried frantically to process the idea of her father being unfaithful to her mother. It was her mother’s infidelity that ultimately ended their parents’ marriage, the day after Sam, their youngest child, graduated from high school. Sam, who’d always been closer to her dad, hadn’t seen much of her mother since then—and not at all after her mother caused a big scene at Sam’s first wedding. “Do you know if it was true?” Sam asked. “Did he cheat?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but I suspect there was something going on based on the way he was acting. He was hardly ever home, but when he was, he was distracted as all hell. I vividly remember that.”

  Sam wished she could recall, but she’d been so young.

  Tracy handed Sam the makeup sponge. “Why don’t you do the bad side yourself? I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Sam stood up to get closer to the mirror and dabbed the liquid foundation on the bruises above and below the white strip of bandage. “Damn, this stuff is amazing.”

  “I had it left over from my theater days. It covers a world of sin.”

  “Not much I can do about the eye that’s swollen shut, but the rest looks a little less evil than it did. Thanks.”

  “Any time. Let’s get you into this gorgeous dress.”

  “Knock
, knock,” a familiar voice called from the bedroom.

  “Come in,” Sam said.

  Shelby Faircloth came around the corner into the spacious bathroom and stopped short at the sight of the gorgeous silk dress. “Oh. My. God. I think I just passed out for a second. Is that pink?”

  “Absolutely not,” Sam said. “It’s champagne.”

  “It’s pink.”

  “She’s queer for pink,” Sam said to Tracy.

  Tracy eyed Shelby’s pink suit and the matching sky-high pink heels that brought her almost to Sam’s shoulder. “I can see that.”

  “She’s seeing pink in places where there is no pink,” Sam said.

  “If there’s one thing I know, it’s pink. And that dress is pink.”

  Sam assessed the dress more critically, still not seeing any sign of the dreaded color. “What’re you doing here, Tinker Bell?” Sam asked, reverting to the nickname she’d given Shelby during the planning of her wedding.

  “I had to drop off some paperwork to Nick for my new job.” Shelby clapped her hands and let out a squeak. “I can’t wait until Monday.”

  “What’s Monday?” Tracy asked.

  “They’ve hired me to run their lives,” Shelby said with barely contained glee. “I’m so excited!”

  “What a great idea,” Tracy said. “I could use some help bailing her out of one scrape after another.” Tracy gestured to the carnage on Sam’s face.

  The three women shared a laugh.

  “I’ll take all the help I can get,” Sam said.

  “Nick said you were up here primping, and then I discover the dress is pink,” Shelby said with an exaggerated sigh. “Put it on. I need to see that gorgeous thing in action.”

  “Hang on.” Sam gave up trying to convince Shelby she was seeing things. “There’s torture-chamber underwear that goes on first.”

  “Oh,” Shelby said with a shiver. “Underwear.”

  “She’s not right in the head,” Tracy called after Sam as she crossed the hallway to her superdeluxe closet.

  “I’ve been saying that since before the wedding,” Sam said as she rolled on thigh-high hose and wrestled her way into a corset-contraption that the designer had provided. “No one listens to me.”

  “Be quiet and put your panties on,” Shelby said.