by Marie Force
“Nope.”
“Not even off the record?”
“Nope.”
“You’re killing me, Sam.”
“You’ll survive.” Sam slapped the phone closed and got into the car, cranking the heat as she tried to figure out her next move. She had a million questions about the Hamilton family and the abduction of Taylor Rollings and whether the two were somehow related. Under normal circumstances, she might head to HQ for a few hours to do some digging. But that wasn’t an option today.
She’d heard every word the chief had said, and was well aware that his patience with her was waning. Uncle or not, he had a job to do, and her recent actions had made that job more difficult for him. She regretted that aspect of what she’d done. It was never her intention to cause him heartburn. The heartburn seemed to find her whether she toed the thin blue line or not. How was that her fault?
While she took the chief’s annoyance seriously, the fact remained that her suspension didn’t extend to online research she might do on her own. With that in mind, she headed home.
Her phone rang while she was stopped at a red light.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” Captain Malone said when she answered.
“Hello to you too, Captain.”
“Hamilton’s son thinks he was kidnapped from a family in Tennessee thirty years ago?”
“That’s about the gist of it?”
“Holy fucking shit.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“I know him a little bit.”
“Who?”
“Director Hamilton. I shadowed him for a month years ago when he had Hill’s job,” Malone said, referring to Special Agent-in-Charge Avery Hill, who oversaw the Bureau’s Criminal Investigation Division. “The shadowing was part of an interagency coordination effort.”
“What do you think of all this?”
Malone hesitated for a couple of seconds. “Meet me at your dad’s in thirty minutes.” The line went dead before Sam could reply.
“Well, alrighty, then.”
The half hour Malone had given her allowed for time to stop at home and check on her patients, both of whom were sound asleep as war raged on in a galaxy far, far away. She worked the remote out of Nick’s hand and shut off the TV before tiptoeing from the room.
In the hallway, she sent a text to both their phones. I’m at Dad’s if you need me. Sure, she could tell the agents on duty where she’d be, but she refused to run her family life through the Secret Service.
She zipped up the coat she’d left on for the check-in at home and went down the ramp to the sidewalk. To her right, she glanced at the reporters who had gathered outside the checkpoint, probably hoping for another glimpse of the vice president. She wanted to tell them to go get a life, but chasing the big story was their lives. Poor bastards. What a way to make a living.
Three doors down from her house, she went up the ramp to her father’s home, entering after a brief knock on the door.
“Hi, honey,” Celia said from her post on the sofa, where she was curled up with her e-reader.
“Hi there. What goes on around here?”
“Tracy and the kids were here to visit. You just missed them.”
Sam took off her coat and dropped into a chair. “No sign of the flu in anyone else’s house?”
“No, thank goodness.”
“Hope it stays that way. It was nasty, but they’re both better. They’re out cold at the moment.”
“Glad to hear they’re doing better. We were so worried about Nick.”
“Me too. What’s Dad doing?”
“He’s in his room watching the game.”
“Captain Malone is on his way over. He wants to talk to both of us.”
“What’s going on?”
“I can’t really say—yet. I’ll tell you when I can.”
She raised a brow. “I thought you were suspended?”
Sam shrugged. “I am.”
Smiling, Celia said, “Suspended but still in the game?”
“Something like that,” Sam said, grinning.
“Could I ask you...” Celia shook her head. “Sorry, none of my business.”
“What?”
Celia’s pretty face flushed. “I’m venturing into territory that’s technically off limits to me by asking if you’ve heard your mother is in town.”
“I heard that, and she wants to see me.”
“I might’ve heard that too, and I wondered how you feel about it.”
“I’m going to see her because it’s time, not because I’m dying to mend fences or be best friends with her.”
“How come, then?”
“When I was in that basement with Stahl, it occurred to me that I should’ve fixed the rift with her at some point. I thought I was going to die, and I was sorry I hadn’t done that.”
“Sam.” Celia blinked back tears. “I hate to think about that awful day.”
“So do I.”
“For what it’s worth, I think it’s good you’re going to see her and clear the air.”
“It’s worth a lot, especially coming from you.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you’ve more than filled the mother void for me the last few years, and even if I kiss and make up with my mother, that doesn’t change anything between us. You got me?”
Celia swiped at tears. “Now look what you’ve done.”
Smiling, Sam got up and went to hug her stepmother. “Add it to the long list of ways I’m in trouble at the moment.”
Celia held on tight for a second before she released Sam. “Go see your dad. He so looks forward to your visits.”
“Send the captain back when he gets here?”
“Will do.”
CHAPTER TEN
SAM WENT THROUGH the kitchen into her father’s room in what used to be the dining room. Skip was in his recliner with the Redskins game on TV. It had been a while since Sam had seen him anywhere other than in his wheelchair or bed, but since the surgery to remove the bullet in his spine, he’d been spending more time in the specially outfitted recliner, which was a sign of progress, albeit limited progress.
“Hey there,” she said.
His face lit up with pleasure at the sight of her. “Hey, baby girl. How’s it going over in the infirmary?”
“Much better today.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Sam bent to kiss his forehead. “How’s the game?” she asked, though she already knew the Skins were losing.
“Different week, same story. What’re you up to?”
She sat in the other recliner. “So the situation with Hamilton’s son has gotten complicated.”
“How so?”
“Hamilton started calling Josh every fifteen minutes this morning, which is apparently more than he’s called his son in the last five years combined. That freaked out Josh, and he bolted from protective custody. We’re looking for him.”
“I was going to call you because I just saw an alert on TV that the director has issued a statement saying his son is mentally ill and off his medication, and the family is looking for him.”
Sam felt light-headed all of a sudden. “He said what? Josh is not mentally ill. He’s terrified his father is going to find him and kill him.”
“He should be,” Malone said as he came into the room looking flustered. “There’s a world of difference between Hamilton’s public image and his true self. The guy’s a ruthlessly ambitious son of a bitch, and I wouldn’t put it past him to kill his own son if it suited his agenda.”
Shocked by Malone’s unusually forceful statement, she said, “Is he capable of kidnapping someone else’s child and raising him as his own?”
“I spent a month shadowing him, and I wouldn’t put anything past that guy.”
“How is it possible that I’ve never heard anything but praise and adulation where he’s concerned?” Sam asked.
“Because that’s what he wants you to hear. Troy Hamilton’s public image is a carefully crafted work of fiction.”
“Jake’s right,” Skip said. “I remember when you shadowed him and came back with stories about the only thing bigger than his arrogance was his ego.”
“Exactly.”
“We need to rip his life apart,” Sam said. “Dig into his past. I want to know where he was thirty years ago this week when Taylor went missing.”
Malone frowned at her. “I hate to remind you that you’re suspended—”
Sam waved him off. “I’ll do it on my own time and my own dime.” Her phone rang and she removed it from her pocket to check the caller ID. “It’s Hill.”
“Take the call and get him over here,” Malone said.
“Hi, Avery.”
“You want to tell me why you people are looking for my director’s son?”
“Come over to my dad’s, and I’ll tell you why.”
Unprepared for her easy capitulation, Hill said, “Oh, um... Okay. I’ll be there in ten.”
Sam slapped the phone closed. “He’s on his way.”
“Is this going to blow up in our faces, Jake?” Skip asked, speaking of the department—as he always did—as if he were still an active member.
“It all depends on how quickly we can locate Josh and what Hamilton does when he finds out we’ve got him in custody.”
“He took off without his wallet or any of his stuff,” Sam said. “He does have his phone, though.”
“Then he won’t get far,” Malone said. “We need to figure out who his friends are and who he might go to for help.”
“From what he told us, he’s not really close to his family,” Sam said.
“How about colleagues?”
“He worked for VA. I can try to find out where and see if I can talk to some of the people he worked with.”
“On your own time, of course,” Malone said.
“Of course. I wouldn’t dream of doing anything on the department’s time while serving out my suspension.”
Malone grunted out a laugh. “Sure you wouldn’t.”
“Is he insulting me?” Sam asked her father. “I think he’s insulting me.”
“He’s speaking the truth, baby girl.”
Sam scowled playfully at her father. “I expect better from you than that.”
“A few more hours in the woodshed might’ve been time well spent with this one, Skip,” Malone said, using his thumb to point at Sam.
“She came out this way. I did what I could with her.”
Sam was saved the bother of coming up with a witty retort to that when Avery Hill came into the room, looking pissed off. “That was quick.” Though she had absolutely no interest in him whatsoever, she was struck nonetheless by how incredibly good-looking the agent was, especially when wearing well-faded denim, a navy-blue sweater and black ski jacket. His golden-brown hair was windblown and his face red from the cold.
“I was at Eastern Market with Shelby when I got a text from one of my people saying you guys issued an APB for the director’s son. You want to tell me what that’s about?”
“Where’s Shelby?”
“In the car.”
“Tell her to come in!” Sam said. “She can’t sit in the cold.”
“She’s fine. The heat is on, and she’s talking to her sister on the phone.”
“Lieutenant,” Malone said, “you want to bring Agent Hill up to speed on why we’re looking for Josh Hamilton?”
Not really, Sam wanted to say, but instead she cleared her throat and forced herself to meet the golden gaze that had once looked at her with much more than collegial interest. Thankfully, he’d backed off on that bullshit since he got engaged to Shelby.
“Josh Hamilton came to HQ on Friday looking for me. He said he would only talk to me. As you and the rest of the world know, I was suspended. He waylaid me as I was leaving and told me he’d been surfing the net at work and stumbled upon an age-progression photo of a missing child who was a dead ringer for him.”
Other than his eyes widening ever so slightly, Avery’s expression didn’t change.
“Do you know Josh?”
“I’ve met him a couple of times.”
“Captain, may I borrow your phone?” Sam asked.
Malone rolled his eyes, mocking her refusal to upgrade from her trusty flip phone, and handed over his smartphone after punching in the code.
Sam went to the browser and found the link to the photo and showed it to Avery.
“Holy shit,” he said in a whisper.
“That’s what Josh said too. He was totally freaked out and came right to me.”
“Why you?”
“Um, well, you might not have heard, but I have a bit of a reputation for being pretty good at my job.”
Avery groaned. “Christ, I walked right into that, didn’t I?”
“You asked.”
“Children,” Malone said sternly. “Get on with it.”
Sam told him everything that’d happened since she encountered Josh Hamilton on Friday, culminating with the news that he had bolted from protective custody and was convinced his father was out to kill him.
“Seriously?” Avery said. “And you believe him?”
“Detective Cruz and I agreed that his concerns seemed legitimate.”
“Do you honestly believe that Troy Hamilton, one of the most revered and well-respected men in law enforcement, would be capable of kidnapping and murder?”
Sam chose her words carefully, knowing how difficult it had to be for him to hear this about his illustrious director. “I’m sorry to say, Agent Hill, that in my line of work, you quickly discover that just about everyone is capable of murder under the right circumstances.”
“Troy Hamilton is not capable of murder. He’s spent his entire adult life working to apprehend criminals and to make this country safer for all of us. That you would even imply such a thing is so far beyond egregious I don’t even have a word for it.”
“I understand how you feel—”
“Do you? Do you really? How could you possibly understand when you have no relationship with him, when you haven’t worked for him for more than a decade and seen him in action on a daily basis? You have no earthly idea how I feel. How would you feel if I insinuated that your beloved uncle Joe was capable of murder?”
Touché. “Look, I hear what you’re saying, and what I meant to say is I know how difficult it is to hear this, but the fact remains that his son was scared shitless that his father was coming after him and was convinced that if Troy caught him, he’d kill him. He told us Hamilton used him as a punching bag every chance he got when Josh was a kid.”
“Hamilton said the kid is mentally ill and off his meds.”
“Yes, he said that.”
“You don’t believe it?”
“I spent hours with him on Friday. Detective Cruz was with him Friday night through this afternoon, and not for one second in all that time did we pick up on anything that smacked of mental illness. Cruz’s father is bipolar. As he said, if the guy was mentally ill, he’d have noticed. There were no indicators of that whatsoever.”
“Having a bipolar father doesn’t make him an expert on mental illness.”
“Granted. But it does make him more acutely aware of certain behaviors that might indicate an underlying issue. The only underlying issue we detected from Josh Hamilton was abject fear.”
Avery ran a hand through his hair, as he processed what Sam was telling him. “If you accuse him of this, and
you’re wrong, the nightmare you’ll bring down upon yourself and your department, not to mention the implications for your husband, will be epic. You know that, right?”
Sam had to admit she hadn’t given the first thought to how this situation might affect Nick, but he would tell her to do her job and not worry about him. “I get it. Don’t shoot the messenger. I’m only passing along the facts as they’ve been presented to me.”
“Fucking hell,” Avery muttered. “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation.”
“We’re waiting on DNA before we accuse anyone of anything. In the meantime, we’re looking for Josh because he was concerned for his welfare, not because we necessarily think Director Hamilton is going to have him killed.”
“This whole thing is nothing short of preposterous.”
“Unless,” Skip said, “the DNA is a match for Taylor Rollings and the director raised a kidnapped child as his own. Then it won’t seem so preposterous.”
Avery’s face reddened. “You can’t honestly believe that Troy Hamilton kidnapped someone else’s child and raised him as his own!”
“I never imagined the speaker of the House or a ranking senator would be involved in a prostitution ring,” Sam said, “or that one of the top candidates for president would murder the wife of the current president’s deputy chief of staff because she stopped providing information. I never would’ve thought a Supreme Court nominee would be gunned down by his own brother. Shall I go on?”
“No,” Hill said, his expression stony. “But this is Troy Hamilton we’re talking about.”
“I know,” Sam said with a sigh, “and I respect how shocking it is for you to hear this, but please don’t tell me it’s impossible that he had anything to do with it.”
“Fine, I won’t,” he said testily. “What’s your plan?”
“We’re going to find Josh Hamilton, make sure he’s safe and lean on the lab to get us those results ASAP,” Sam said. “After that, I don’t have a plan.”
“You’ll keep me posted?” Avery asked. “As a courtesy.”
Since she was technically suspended and not on the case in an official capacity, Sam glanced at Malone.
“We’ll keep you posted,” Malone said.
