Fatal Scandal: Book Eight of the Fatal Series

by Marie Force

  “Nothing yet,” Tyrone reported, “but I’ll stay on top of them.”

  “Thank you. We appreciate all of you giving up your holiday to come in today.”

  “Murder happens,” Arnold said.

  “Yes, it does,” Sam said. “I have a theory I want to run by you. First, I want you to hear the nine-one-one call, which was made about ten blocks from where the body was discovered, conveniently close to Gonzo’s place.” She made use of the computer workstation in the conference room to play the recording for her team. “Listen again,” she said after the first time. “Do any of you recognize the voice?”

  “It’s sort of hard to say when it was so muffled,” Carlucci said.

  “That’s what I thought too,” Sam said. “Someone was making an effort to disguise their voice, so they were worried we would recognize it. Which leads to my theory that we need to look at people who had it in for us as a team and as individuals. Who would want to cause trouble for our squad, our department or any of us personally?”

  “Do you have people in mind, Lieutenant?” Farnsworth asked.

  “A long list,” Sam said. “Starting with Stahl, Ramsey and Gibson, not to mention the wide array of people we’ve arrested, who’re currently suing us, like Melissa Woodmansee, or after us for other things, such as Bill Springer.”

  “So you’re suggesting someone killed the mother of Gonzo’s child in order to make trouble for us?” Malone asked. “Kind of far-fetched, Lieutenant.”

  “I know it is, but we’ve all seen crazier things on this job than someone killing someone else to forward their own agenda.”

  “I think it bears looking into,” Farnsworth said. “We’ve made our share of enemies over the years, and any one of them would be thrilled to see us defending ourselves or one of our top officers against a murder charge.”

  “Someone has gone to a lot of trouble to point the finger at Gonzo,” Sam said. “The security cameras in his building were disabled, making it impossible for us to prove he never left the building after he got home yesterday afternoon. His name and address were found on a slip of paper underneath the floor mat in the car Lori was found in. The nine-one-one call was made from his block. Whoever killed her wants us to think it was him.”

  “But we know it wasn’t,” Arnold said. “We know he didn’t do it.”

  “We do know that,” Sam said, “but the problem is we can’t prove it. We have his word and Christina’s that neither of them went out after they got home yesterday afternoon, but we can’t prove that either. And with the custody ruling in jeopardy thanks to Lori taking her case to the media, they both had motive.”

  Arnold stared at her, his anger palpable. “He’s your friend. You can’t honestly believe—”

  “I don’t believe that, Arnold. I’m just pointing out the fact that we can’t actually prove he didn’t do it.”

  The young detective slumped down in his chair, anger replaced by fear. “We have to do something.”

  “Tell me what we can do. I’m all ears.”

  “I don’t know, but there has to be something.”

  “The one way to definitively prove Gonzo’s innocence is to build a case against someone else—a case that will hold up all the way through a trial.”

  “I did a search for Lori,” Jeannie said. “I found something interesting. She was on the board of directors for a church in Bowie that’s been tied to controversy. They protest at funerals for service members, among other distasteful things.”

  “I’ve heard of that church,” Tyrone said. “They showed up at Bobby’s funeral. People were furious.”

  Sam remembered that funeral for one of Tyrone’s friends from the police academy who’d been hit by a car during a routine traffic stop—and she remembered the controversy that had swirled when the church protestors chose to attend and make it about them.

  “Bobby’s folks have never gotten over that,” Tyrone said. “That people who call themselves God-fearing types would turn a police officer’s funeral into such a circus... It was sickening.”

  “This is a really good lead.” Sam gestured to McBride and Tyrone. “I want you two to follow up on it in the morning.”

  “Will do,” Jeannie said.

  Sam looked to her third-shift detectives. “Carlucci and Dominguez, dig into Lori’s financials overnight and have a report for me in the morning. You can work from home since you were here all day.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Carlucci said.

  “I don’t like to be dramatic about these things, but Gonzo is counting on us to take the heat off him. Let’s keep him foremost in our minds as we go forward, and let’s remember that someone has gone to a lot of trouble to make it seem like he did it. We know better. Now all we have to do is prove it. I’m going to work on the vengeance angle by paying each of my enemies a visit. Call me if anything breaks on the text messages. Otherwise, I’ll see you all in the morning.”

  The somber detectives filed out of the room, their marching orders in hand. Most of them would probably work all night if it would help to clear Gonzo.

  Farnsworth and Malone remained behind.

  “What’s your plan for these vengeance visits?” Farnsworth asked.

  “I’m going to hunt down each of them and ask them where they were yesterday,” Sam said.

  “You are not doing that alone,” Farnsworth said.

  “I’ll go with her,” Malone said.

  Sam glanced at him. “I’ll do the talking.”

  “Of course, Lieutenant. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “Let’s start up at SVU and see where our friend Ramsey spent New Year’s Eve.”

  “I’m with you,” Malone said.

  “Keep me posted on what you find out,” Farnsworth said. “I swear to God, if this leads back to Stahl, I’ll kill him with my own hands.”

  Sam swallowed hard as she recalled the last time a fellow officer had said those words to her and what had happened shortly afterward. “You’ve got enough on your plate. Leave the scumbags to us.”

  “Helen emailed you the info you need for the morning,” he said. “You’re sure you’re still good with doing this? I wouldn’t blame you—”

  “I’m fine with it.”

  “Is Nick? Have you asked him?”

  “Um, no, and I don’t plan to ‘ask’ him. I plan to ‘tell’ him I’m doing it, but he won’t have a problem with it.”

  “Are you sure? We’re basically taking advantage of the fact that you’re married to the VP to deal with the media on this. We should make sure he’s on board.”

  “Let me worry about him. I can assure you he’d want me to do anything I could to help you out.”

  “Close the door,” Farnsworth said.

  Malone, who was closest, did as he asked.

  “I’ve been thinking...”

  A trickle of fear worked its way down Sam’s spine. “About?”

  “Maybe I should just resign. Might be best for the department—”

  “No,” she said emphatically. “That would not be best for the department. You are what’s best for the department. If you quit, you basically hand Springer and all the other loudmouths an easy victory. I know it’s hard. I know it’s awful to be caught in the crosshairs with the media. I was there myself not all that long ago after Johnson blew up in my face, and it’s no fun at all when you’re in the thick of it. As hard as it is when it’s happening, it passes. They move on to something else, and they forget about you. It’ll happen this time too.”

  “You’re right, and I’ve certainly seen it happen enough times. But Springer is determined. I fear he’s not going to be happy with anything less than my head on a stake.”

  “So you’re just going to hand it to him? Sir.”

  Farnsworth laughed. “Don’t
you love how she tacks on that ‘sir’ at the end when she remembers who she’s talking to?”

  “I find that equally endearing when she does it to me,” Malone replied.

  “Have your fun at my expense, boys, but you know I’m right. This too shall pass, and when it does, you’ll be right where you belong—leading this department. Sir.”

  “As much as I hate to admit she’s right,” Malone said. “She’s right.”

  “Say it again,” Sam said. “I didn’t hear you the first two times.”

  Both men laughed—as she hoped they would—and the tension marking the chief’s face seemed to ease ever so slightly.

  “We’ve all got your back, Chief,” Sam said. “Please don’t give up.”

  “I appreciate the pep talk. Hopefully tomorrow will take some of the heat off.”

  “How do you plan to explain where it all went wrong?” Sam asked.

  “I’m going to tell the truth. We had built a strong narcotics case against Billy Springer and his associates, and I allowed Vice the time to finish their case before we charged Billy in the murders of his brother and his brother’s friends. It was my call. It was the right call at the moment, but our narcotics investigation was compromised, which led to the events at Billy’s grandmother’s home in Friendship Heights.”

  “And when they ask how the investigation was compromised?”

  “I’m going to say we are conducting an internal inquiry to determine how that happened, but we don’t know yet. And believe me, I want to know as badly as Bill Springer does.”

  Sam thought about it for a long moment. “It might just work. The public will appreciate your honesty.”

  “I guess we’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?”

  “We will,” Sam said. “No matter what, we’ve got your back.”

  “And I appreciate that more than you know. I’ll let you get going so you can go home at some point.”

  “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Bright and early,” he said with a grimace as he left them.

  “He’s taking this hard,” Sam said, filled with concern as she watched the chief walk away.

  “It’s because he knows he fucked up. He never should’ve put the homicide investigation on hold for the narcs. It shouldn’t have happened. We told him so at the time.”

  “Do you think he should resign?”

  “Absolutely not. Billy Springer was a murdering, drug-dealing douche bag who got exactly what he had coming to him. The only one who can’t seem to get his head around that is his father.”

  “The guy’s got a big bully pulpit.”

  Malone grinned at her. “Ours is bigger. He’s about to find out how much bigger it is. Now let’s go track down some scumbags and call it a day.”

  * * *

  “What should we have for dinner?” Nick asked Scotty, who was playing a game on his Xbox, which had been moved upstairs from the den to the room Nick was now using as an office.

  “Whatever you want is fine with me.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing.”

  The one-word answer surprised him. He’d been warned that the teenage years would bring about a child he barely recognized, but he’d refused to believe Scotty would ever be “typical.” So while his better judgment told him to leave it alone, his intuition told him to dig deeper.

  Moving from the doorway to the sofa they’d hauled up the stairs together, Nick sat next to him. “Hey, buddy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Pause the game for a second, will you?”

  Always obedient, Scotty did as he was told.

  “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Nothing’s wrong.”

  “Are you bummed you have to go back to school tomorrow?”

  “Totally bummed. I love vacation.”

  “So here’s the thing... From the minute you came home earlier, I could tell something was off. I’m still new to this fatherhood gig, but I’d like to think I know you pretty well by now. Is it just the end of vacation that’s got you down?”

  Scotty fiddled with the game controller, and when he looked up at Nick, his eyes were bright with unshed tears. “Isn’t there anything that can be done for Skip?” he asked softly. “I hate seeing him in bed all the time and in pain. I don’t want to ask Sam about it because I know she’s upset too.”

  Touched by his concern for his new grandfather, Nick said, “They’re talking to the doctors about it, and they’re hoping he’s going to improve with time.”

  “I miss him,” Scotty said, wiping away a tear. “He’s always asleep when I go over there now.”

  “That’s because of the medicine they’re giving him.”

  “That’s what Celia said too.”

  “I know it’s upsetting. It is for all of us, but they’re doing everything they can for him, and we have to hope he’s going to get better with time. His body is very fragile. It has been since the shooting, but it’s more so now since the surgery.”

  “I hate that he’s in pain.”

  “I do too, but the pain could turn out to be a good thing.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “It could be a sign that he’s getting back function in his extremities since the bullet was removed.”

  “Does that mean he’ll walk again?”

  “I don’t think he’ll recover to that point, but I’ve learned not to rule anything out where he’s concerned. He’s tough as nails. He should’ve died the day he was shot, but look how far he’s come since then.”

  “I barely remember my own grandpa because he died when I was so young. Being around Skip... I like having a grandpa again.”

  “I know, buddy. He’s the best. I’ll tell you what... Tomorrow when I get to work, I’ll make some calls. I bet there’s someone somewhere who knows something we don’t know.”

  “Like in the government?”

  Nick shrugged. “Maybe. There’s all sorts of stuff going on and maybe someone is working on something that will help him.”

  “That’d be awesome.”

  “Do me a favor, and don’t tell anyone. I don’t want to get the family’s hopes up if there’s nothing we can do, okay?”

  Scotty nodded. “Okay. Thanks, Nick.”

  “You know you can come to me with anything, right? Anything at all.”

  “I know, but you’re starting your new job and you’re busy—”

  “I’m never too busy for you. Ever. When you’re forty and have your own kids, I’ll still be right here.”

  “I’m still getting used to that.” He looked down at the floor before glancing up at Nick, tentatively. “Do you think, at some point—not now—but maybe someday, it would be okay if I called you Dad?”

  Moved to tears and stunned speechless by the emotional gut punch, Nick stared at him.

  “It’s okay if you don’t want me to—”

  Nick put his arm around Scotty and drew him into a hug. “I want you to,” he said gruffly. “Right now, today, tomorrow, whenever you want to. It would be the greatest honor of my life to be called Dad by you.”

  “You’re the vice president of the whole country,” Scotty said dryly. “You’ve had greater honors.”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Thanks,” Scotty said. “You know... For everything.”

  “You don’t need to thank me. Sam and I are so happy to have you as part of our family. The day you told us you wanted to stay for good—best day of our lives.” Nick’s ringing phone ended the moment. “This might be Sam.” He smiled at Scotty as he released him and pulled his phone out of his pocket, seeing his friend Andy’s number on the caller ID. “I gotta grab this.”

  “Go ahead,” Scotty said.

 
“Hey, Andy.”

  “Mr. Vice President. How goes it?”

  “It’s Nick, and it’s going fine. You?”

  “Good. I actually had a night away with Elsa for New Year’s Eve while her parents had the baby. We just got back and I saw that I missed a call from Sam. I tried to call her, but got her voice mail, so I figured I’d try you.” Nick got up from the sofa. “Be right back,” he said to Scotty. He went into the hallway. “Did you hear the news about Lori Phillips?”

  “What news?”

  Nick filled him in on what had happened.

  “Oh my God. That must be why Gonzo has called me four times too. Tell me he didn’t have anything to do with it.”

  “Sam says he’s not a suspect, but the media isn’t buying. They’re crucifying him.”

  “Holy shit. Do you know why Sam called me?”

  “I don’t, but she might be looking for info about the custody case.”

  “There’s not much I can really tell her in light of my confidentiality requirements.”

  “I doubt she’d be looking to you to violate confidentiality.”

  “I left her a message. Tell her I’m around all night if she wants to call me. I’ll help if I can.”

  “I’ll tell her.”

  “I’m also calling because I heard from the investigator who’s looking for Scotty’s father. He thinks he might’ve found him.”

  Nick walked into his bedroom and closed the door. “Where is he?”

  “In New Jersey. Working on the boardwalk on the Jersey Shore.”

  “How do you know it’s him?”

  “I don’t have all the details yet, but my investigator is good. If he wasn’t sure it was him, he wouldn’t have called me.”

  “What’s the next step?”

  “I fly up there to talk to him.”

  “Shouldn’t I do that?”

  “Definitely not. I want to see if we can get around telling him who you are. Let me get a sense of what we’re dealing with and see if I can get him to sign away his rights without bringing you into it.”

  “How soon will you go?”