Fatal Frenzy: Book 9 of the Fatal Series

by Marie Force

  Fixated on the wall behind the chief, Freddie thought about the broken bones in Elin’s face, the violent bruises that were only now beginning to yellow, the weeks she’d been out of work and in pain. Yeah he’d done it, and he’d do it again. But somehow he didn’t think it would be wise to say that here.

  “Let me make this simple for you, Detective,” Farnsworth said. “Elliott is demanding we take action internally or he will file suit.”

  Freddie forced himself to meet the chief’s unflinching gaze. “What kind of internal action?”

  “Nothing less than a suspension without pay of one week.”

  Shit, Freddie thought, a week without pay will hurt, but a lawsuit would hurt more, especially with Melissa Woodmansee’s suit against us winding its way through the courts. In the second he took to weigh his options, he thought about Sam and how hard she’d worked to build their squad into one of the department’s elite teams. Another lawsuit could undermine both their careers.

  “Elliott has no way to prove that I laid a finger on him,” Freddie said.

  “Lieutenant Archelotta brought a gap in the security film from that night to our attention the week after the incident in question. It appeared to him that someone had intentionally placed something over the camera, and when it was removed, Elliott was lying on the floor holding his badly bruised testicles and bleeding from his nose and mouth.”

  Okay, that looked bad and helped to cement what he needed to do. “I’ll take the suspension.” This was the worst possible time, with Sam on leave and a knife-wielding lunatic on the loose, but what choice did he have?

  “It will include an entry on your personnel file that could impair future advancement opportunities,” Malone said.

  “I understand.” If he was never anything other than a detective, he could live with that. As long as he got to do the job he loved, he’d be fine.

  “I hope it goes without saying, Detective,” the chief said, “that we in no way condone officers taking matters such as this into their own hands. It goes against everything we believe in, as a department, for members of our team, especially officers at your rank and above, to be doling out vigilante justice.”

  “I understand,” he said again—and he did. From the second he left Elin’s bedside at the hospital, he’d known what he was risking by confronting Elliott. But even facing a suspension, he couldn’t bring himself to be sorry for avenging the woman he loved. “Is there anything else?”

  “I’ll need your weapon and badge,” Malone said, holding out his hand.

  It hurt a lot more than he’d expected to turn over his gun and his prized gold shield to the captain.

  “Is there anything else you’d like to say, Detective?” Farnsworth asked.

  “What will Elliott be told, and will the suspension be made public?”

  “He will be told that you’ve been disciplined internally, but no further details will be made available to him or the media. It will be treated as an internal personnel matter. Assistant U.S. Attorney Faith Miller has agreed to drop the conspiracy charges against Elliott in exchange for his silence. He’ll only be charged for the assault on Ms. Svendsen.”

  Freddie’s mind whirled with implications. Stahl had hired Elliott to beat up Elin so Freddie would be out of the way dealing with a personal matter when Stahl went after Sam. It killed him to hear that Elliott wouldn’t be charged for partnering up with Stahl.

  “That doesn’t mean the media won’t ever catch wind of it,” Malone added. “They just won’t hear it from us.”

  “You understand that viable charges are being dropped in the case against Elliott because of a choice you made, Detective,” Farnsworth said, visibly displeased.

  “Yes, sir.” He wasn’t proud of what he’d done, nor did he like being the subject of the chief’s displeasure, but he was not going to apologize—ever. The deal was the best he could hope for under the circumstances. Hopefully, Elliott was smart enough to know better than to defy the terms of his agreement with the U.S. Attorney. The assault charges were enough on their own to make sure he would be locked up for a while. At least he’d better be.

  Freddie stood on watery legs. “Thank you.”

  “Detective,” Malone said. “You’re a rising star in this department. Be careful letting your emotions get the better of you. I’d hate to see such a promising career derailed by self-inflicted wounds.”

  “Yes,” Freddie said, swallowing, “sir. Thank you.” He made his escape and kept his head down on the way back to the detectives’ pit. At his cubicle, he shut down his computer and grabbed his keys.

  “Oh, hey,” Gonzo said. “You’re back. What’s the deal?”

  Freddie zeroed in on the still-healing gunshot wound on Gonzo’s neck, a reminder that things could always be worse. “I’ve been suspended without pay.”

  Gonzo’s mouth fell open in shock. “What. The. Fuck.”

  Freddie remained stubbornly silent.

  “The thing with Elliott. The thing you won’t talk about. It’s come back to bite you in the ass.”

  “Something like that.”

  “Goddamn it, Cruz. This is the last fucking thing I need with Sam already on leave.”

  “I know. I’m sorry to cause you added stress.”

  “But you’re not sorry about what you did to land in this situation.”

  “Nope.”

  “I hope it was worth it.”

  Freddie thought of the way Elin’s gorgeous face had been bruised and broken by Elliott’s fist. What Freddie had done to him was the least of what that guy deserved. “It absolutely was.”

  “I don’t know that I care for this new edgy side of Freddie Cruz. It’s not like you to behave this way.”

  “I’m not expecting it to become a habit, Sarge,” Freddie said, in a rare use of his close friend’s rank.

  “See that it doesn’t. How long is the suspension?”

  “A week.”

  “Son of a bitch.”

  “I’ll be a phone call away if you need me, and all my notes are up to date. If I can help with the investigation, call me.”

  “Yeah, I will. Have you talked to Sam at all?” Gonzo asked.

  “Here and there. You?”

  “Same. Does she seem weird to you?”

  Freddie nodded. “Suppose it’s normal after what happened.”

  “I guess.”

  What remained unsaid between them was that it was anything but normal for their lieutenant and close friend to stay away from work for any reason other than debilitating physical injury—especially when they had a hot new investigation going on. Even when she’d been badly injured, they’d had to fight with her to stay home until she recovered.

  “She’ll be back,” Freddie said with more confidence than he felt. “When she’s ready.”

  “I hope so. You’d better get out of here before the word gets out about the suspension. You don’t want to be around for that.”

  “No, I don’t. I’ll call you.”

  Freddie left the pit and headed for the morgue exit, hoping to make a clean getaway. If there was any upside to the suspension, it was a week alone with Elin, since she was still on medical leave from the gym. As he drove home to their apartment in the Woodley Park neighborhood, it occurred to him that they should go somewhere, get out of town while they had the chance.

  Before he did anything, though, he needed to talk to Sam. He placed the call and hoped she’d pick up. The last couple of times he’d called, she hadn’t answered or replied to his voicemail messages or texts.

  “Hey,” she said, sounding breathless. “What’s up?”

  “Oh, hey.” He’d been prepared to leave yet another voicemail message.

  “You’re just the man I wanted to talk to.”

  Damn! Had she al
ready heard about the suspension? Had the brass consulted her before they dropped the hammer? “How come?”

  “Nick showed me the new car today and told me you were a big help in getting the dreaded tablet in there. Thanks for that.”

  “No problem. I’ll be happy to get you trained on how to use it as soon as you come back to work.”

  “Oh, joy,” she said with predictable sarcasm. “Can’t wait.”

  “The reason I called is I wanted to tell you that I got suspended for a week.”

  “What? What the hell for? Oh damn, Elliott, right?”

  “Yeah. They’re dropping the conspiracy charges against him in exchange for his silence about what I did.”

  She was silent for a long moment, long enough that he began to squirm.

  “Listen, Sam—”

  “No, you listen. What you did to him was beneath you. You played right into their hands.”

  “How was I supposed to know it was all an orchestrated plan? All I knew is my girlfriend’s face was broken. He broke bones in her face, Sam.”

  “I know, and you had every right to be furious. But you had no right to go into his cell and do what you did. No right at all.”

  “What would you do if someone did to Nick what was done to Elin? Would you sit idly by and let them get away with it?”

  She sighed loudly. “I get why you did it, but you’ve used up your one ticket. Farnsworth has a very low tolerance for police brutality, and he won’t let you get away with this twice.”

  “I’m hardly getting away with it. They’re docking me a week’s pay.” Thinking of that had him reconsidering his get-out-of-town plan.

  “You could’ve been busted back to Patrol. You are getting away with it. Count your blessings that it wasn’t worse.”

  “I’m not sorry,” he said. “I’d do it again.”

  “If you do it again, I’ll personally pack your bags for the trip to Patrol.”

  As he expected nothing less from her, he smiled at her saucy reply. “Speaking of trips, I’m thinking about taking advantage of my unexpected time off to get away with Elin. Unless you can think of any reason why I shouldn’t.”

  “I don’t see why not as long as you refrain from posting pictures on Instagram of yourself holding an umbrella drink.”

  “I’m surprised you’ve heard of Instagram.”

  “Bite me.”

  “As appealing as that offer is, I’m going to go home and bite my own girl.”

  “Gross.”

  “People are worried about you, Sam. Wondering when you’ll be back and all that.”

  “They’re waiting for me to kiss Trulo’s ass, and that’s not about to happen anytime soon. I’m kind of enjoying the break.”

  “You are? Seriously?”

  “Why does everyone find that so hard to believe?”

  “Um, because?”

  “I have a life outside of that place, you know.”

  “Yes, I believe the entire country knows about your life outside of work these days.”

  “Very funny.”

  “It’s just, you know, not like you to be making up reasons to extend a medical leave.”

  “That’s not what I’m doing. Are people saying I’m taking advantage?”

  “No one has said anything like that. And if they’re thinking it, they know better than to say it around me or any other member of your squad.”

  “What do I care what they say? At least I’m still walking and talking and breathing and mostly functioning after what that dickwad did to me.”

  Hearing her say she was “mostly” functioning didn’t exactly put his mind at ease. “We’re all thankful you’re walking and talking and breathing.”

  “Awww, thanks, Cruz. I’m touched.”

  He snorted out a laugh. “Right, on that note, I’m out. I’ll talk to you in a week. Try to stay out of trouble while I’m gone.”

  “I’m not the one serving a suspension.”

  “Touché, Lieutenant.”

  “Try to have a good time, Freddie. You deserve a break, and this shit at work is a temporary setback. Nothing to get wound up about.”

  “Thanks for that. I’ll talk to you soon.” He stashed the phone in his pocket and parallel parked outside the building where he lived with Elin. Taking the stairs two at a time, he arrived at the door to their third-floor apartment and pulled out his keys.

  The door swung open before he could use his key. “What’re you doing home?”

  Elin wore a bathrobe and her white-blond hair was gathered into a messy bun. Even with the bruises still prominent, she was gorgeous, and the sight of her stopped his heart the way it always did. He had things he needed to tell her, such as Elliott’s involvement in the mess with Stahl. She’d been so fragile since the assault that he had kept all but the most essential information from her, including his late-night visit to the jail.

  He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her.

  “What’re you doing? Why aren’t you at work?”

  “I’ve got the week off.”

  “How come?”

  “Things are slow and they were looking for someone to take some time off. I have a lot of vacation accrued so I volunteered.” Thankfully, she’d been avoiding the news and hadn’t heard about the knife assaults or she’d never have bought his “things are slow” story.

  “A whole week?” she asked with more enthusiasm than she’d shown for anything in a while.

  “That’s right. What do you say we get out of town?”

  “And go where?”

  “Anywhere you want.”

  Her hand came up to cover her face. “I don’t know… My face…”

  “Is gorgeous.”

  “And still bruised.”

  “So what? We’ll go somewhere that no one knows us and just relax and have fun. Come on. When will we ever get another chance like this to get out of here for a week?” With his hands on her face, he ran his thumb gently over the yellowing bruises. “Let’s get in the car and just drive. We’ll figure out where we’re going when we get there.”

  “We’re not taking your car.”

  Laughing, he kissed her. “My poor maligned Mustang. She’s so misunderstood.”

  “She’s perfectly understood.”

  “Fine, we’ll take your car. So is that a yes?” At some point during their time away, he’d have to find a way to tell her the things he’d been keeping from her. But the goal today was to get her to leave their apartment for the first time in two weeks.

  “Yes, Freddie. Let’s go somewhere.”

  Chapter Three

  After Sam sent Nick off to work with promises of a proper thank-you for the car later, she took a call from their assistant, Shelby, who’d been felled by severe morning sickness.

  “I’m so sorry, Sam,” Shelby said tearfully. “Don’t pay me for this week.”

  “Don’t be silly, Tinker Bell. You get sick time.”

  “I’d feel guilty getting paid for doing nothing but puking and sleeping.”

  “Is Avery with you?”

  “Yes, it was so bad today that he called out of work to stay home.”

  “I hope you feel better soon.”

  “I do too. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Take the week off. I’m here and can handle anything that comes up. Rest up and feel better.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive.”

  “Thanks so much, Sam. That’s a huge relief. I can barely move, so I wouldn’t be much good to you.”

  “What’s the doctor saying?”

  “Perfectly normal, but they’re keeping an eye on me so I don’t get dehydrated. Good times.”

  To Sam, it sounde
d like the best of times, but she refused to dwell on the unreasonable jealousy she felt anytime someone around her got pregnant. “Hang in there, and let me know how you’re doing.”

  “I will. How are you?”

  “I’m fine. Doing better every day. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

  “Sounds good. Bye, Sam.”

  She put down the phone and poured herself a rare second cup of coffee. Sam wasn’t proud of the jealousy, but she couldn’t help it, especially when it would soon be a year since the last time she’d been pregnant. Minus a few months on birth control, she’d had a lot of months to conceive again, but it just hadn’t happened. It certainly wasn’t for a lack of trying.

  The part she found so difficult to understand was that she and Nick had successfully conceived once before. Why wasn’t it happening again? She blew out a deep breath full of the frustration she’d experienced for years now when it came to her checkered fertility history. After her last miscarriage, the doctors had all agreed—if she’d gotten pregnant once, she could do so again.

  Nick had wanted to pursue fertility treatments, but she didn’t have it in her to go through that again after having done it before with her ex-husband. The side effects of the treatments were just too much for her, especially with no guarantee of a baby at the end of it.

  “You need to find something to do that doesn’t involve dwelling on this shit,” she said. On the counter was the handwritten card she’d received after Stahl’s attack, from her new chief of staff at the White House. She picked it up and re-read the kind message for at least the tenth time.

  Mrs. Cappuano—please accept our heartfelt best wishes for a speedy recovery from your injuries. You are in our thoughts and prayers, and if I can be of any assistance to you whatsoever, please don’t hesitate to get in touch.

  Sincerely,

  Lilia Van Nostrand.

  She had included her direct line at the White House. Sam stared at the number for another minute before she picked up her phone again.

  “This is Lilia,” she answered in the crisp, professional tone Sam remembered from the only other time she’d spoken to the woman.

  “Um, yeah, this is Sam Hol… Um, Cappuano.”