Fatal Identity

by Marie Force

  “And you’ll keep what we’ve told you here under wraps until we have cause to take this to Hamilton?”

  “Yeah,” Hill said gruffly. “I won’t say anything. I’m going to take Shelby home. Let me know if you hear anything about Josh or the DNA.”

  “We will,” Sam said.

  He nodded and turned to leave the room.

  “He’s in denial,” Skip said after they heard the front door close behind Hill.

  “He worships Hamilton,” Malone said. “Most of the people who’ve worked for him do. He’s a magnetic, powerful leader who’s transformed the Bureau during his tenure as director. If the DNA is a match, we’re going to get huge pushback from the Feds on this, so we have to make sure our i’s are dotted and t’s are crossed every which way to next Tuesday.”

  “The proof will be in the DNA,” Skip said. “His many fans can’t quibble with a match.”

  “Hill is right about one thing,” Sam said. “If it gets out that we’re looking at Troy Hamilton for kidnapping before we have proof, and it turns out to be untrue, we’ll be screwed, glued and tattooed.”

  “Let’s not allow that to happen,” Malone said.

  Sam put up her hands. “I’m suspended. Not much I can do.”

  “I want you on this behind the scenes,” Malone said, shocking the shit out of Sam. She hadn’t expected him to say that. “Josh Hamilton came to you once. Maybe he will again. If he does, you’re on the case.”

  “And you’ll clear that with the brass?”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  Sam’s phone rang and she glanced at the caller ID, startling when she saw Josh’s name pop up. “It’s him,” she said, as she flipped open the phone to take the call. “Holland.”

  “It’s me,” he said in a small voice. “Josh.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m close to your house.”

  Sam began walking toward the front door, grabbing her coat off the chair in the living room before she went outside. “Come toward the Secret Service checkpoint, and I’ll meet you. We’ll bring you to my house where no one can touch you. I’ll personally guarantee your safety.”

  If the Secret Service hadn’t turned her home into a fortress, she’d never consider bringing him there. But it was the second most secure home in the District and thus the best place for him right now.

  After a long pause, she said, “Josh? Are you coming?”

  “Yeah, I’ll come.”

  “Good.” She expelled a deep sigh of relief. “You’ll be surrounded by Secret Service. No one will touch you.” Sam was kicking herself for taking him out of her house to begin with. She should’ve let him stay there, even with the flu running rampant. Oh well, hindsight was always twenty-twenty. “Keep talking to me. Where are you now?”

  “Seventh.”

  “Two more blocks.” She was waved through the checkpoint and walked toward Seventh Street, where she could see him in the distance. Jogging as she held the phone to her ear, she covered a block in a matter of seconds. When she reached his side, she slapped her phone closed and jammed it into her coat pocket. “Come on.” As she hooked her arm through his, she noticed his eyes were red and raw, as if he’d been crying. His clothes were dirty and disheveled, and one of the sleeves on his coat was torn.

  “I didn’t know where else to go,” he said in a despondent tone. “He’s coming for me. I know he is.”

  “You did the right thing calling me. I’ll keep you safe.”

  “You have to tell the Secret Service not to let him in. If he finds out I’m with you, he’ll come here, and he’ll strong-arm them into letting him in.”

  “They don’t let anyone in unless we ask them to, and we won’t let him in. I promise.”

  At the checkpoint, Sam vouched for Josh since he didn’t have his ID on him. She noted the agent’s recognition of his name. The agent had probably seen the APB.

  “Is everything all right, Mrs. Cappuano?” the agent asked warily.

  “Everything is fine. I’d like some additional security posted at both ends of Ninth Street.”

  “Any particular reason?”

  “I want to make sure my guest feels as safe as possible.”

  “Yes, ma’am. We’ll take care of it.”

  “Thank you very much.” Taking Josh by the arm again, she led him to her house, where Malone waited for them at the foot of the ramp. Sam introduced Josh to him and the agent on duty admitted the three of them into the house.

  Malone called HQ to cancel the APB for Josh.

  Josh released an audible sigh of relief when the front door closed behind them. “Thank you,” he said softly.

  “No problem. I should’ve kept you here to begin with. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

  “You were—and are—under no obligation to protect me.”

  “The minute I put you in my car on Friday, I’ve felt an obligation to protect you.” She gestured for him to have a seat on the sofa. “What happened to you after you left the hotel?”

  “I wandered around for a while. I ended up in Rock Creek Park and fell down a hill. That’s how I got dirty.” He jumped back up and began to pace. “How long do I have to stay here? What happens now? Will someone tell my father to leave me alone?”

  The rapid-fire questions, the jerky pacing and the trembling of his hands put Sam on alert. “Are you on something, Josh?”

  He stopped short. “What? Why would you ask me that?”

  “You’re extremely jittery.”

  “My father, the director of the FBI, wants me dead. Wouldn’t you be jittery if you were me?”

  “Is it possible you’re wrong about what he wants from you?” Malone asked.

  “No, I’m not wrong.”

  “Why do you say that?” Sam asked.

  “Because he’s a ruthless bastard. If this is true, if he took me or paid someone else to do it or however it happened, he’ll kill me before he’ll admit to having had anything to do with it.”

  “It won’t matter if he kills you now, Josh,” Malone said. “We’ve got your DNA. If it’s a match to Taylor Rollings’s family, then your father will have to answer to how you came to be in his custody, whether you’re alive or dead.”

  Josh stopped pacing and turned to face Malone. “He... He doesn’t know I gave DNA.”

  “I think it might be time for you to return his calls,” Sam said, playing a hunch.

  “You’re sure that’s a good idea?” Josh asked.

  “I’m sure it’ll send the message to your father that you’re cooperating with the investigation,” Sam said, “and that it won’t matter now what he does. We’ve got the info we need to make a connection to Taylor Rollings, if a connection does in fact exist.”

  “He needs to know that,” Malone added. “It would also give you a chance to ask him if he knows anything about Taylor or his abduction.”

  “If he does, he’ll deny it,” Josh said.

  “Still won’t hurt to ask,” Malone said.

  They waited for Josh to mull it over. He sat on the sofa, the frenetic energy of a few minutes ago giving way to a weary resignation. After a long moment of silence, he withdrew his phone from his pocket and placed the call quickly, almost as if he was afraid to take even another second to think about it.

  “Put it on Speaker,” Malone said.

  Josh did as he asked, and they listened to the phone ring and ring before voicemail picked up.

  “This is Troy Hamilton. I can’t take your call right now, so please leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

  “Um, Dad, it’s me, Josh, calling you back. Call me when you get this message.” He ended the call and looked up at them. “What now?”

  “Now we wait for him to return your call,�
� Malone said.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  AVERY DROVE SHELBY home to the townhouse they now shared in the District’s Adams Morgan neighborhood, his mind whirling with what Sam and Malone had told him about Troy Hamilton. There was no fucking way on God’s green earth that Troy Hamilton kidnapped a child and passed him off as his own for thirty years. No way.

  He couldn’t deny, however, that Josh Hamilton bore a striking resemblance to the age-progression photo. But that didn’t prove a goddamned thing, and even if Josh turned out to be Taylor Rollings, that didn’t mean Troy took him or had any knowledge of a kidnapping.

  The whole thing was so far beyond preposterous as to be laughable.

  “Are you going to tell me about it?” Shelby asked as they made their way through streets congested by cars heading to the Capitals home game at the Verizon Center.

  “I’m still trying to process what I just heard.”

  “Can I help?”

  He glanced at her and then back at the road, wanting to tell her but conditioned to keep his work to himself.

  “If it makes any difference, I already know about Josh Hamilton’s possible connection to the missing kid in Tennessee.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I was at the house the other day when Sam brought him home. I didn’t know then that he was your director’s son, but since we heard about the all-points bulletin earlier, I put two and two together to get holy moly.”

  “Yeah, that’s putting it mildly.”

  “What’re you thinking?”

  “That there’s no fucking way that Troy had anything to do with kidnapping someone else’s kid. There’s just no way.”

  “If it’s true that Josh is really Taylor, maybe there’s some sort of reasonable explanation for how he came to be in the Hamiltons’ custody.”

  “What kind of explanation would be reasonable? No matter how it came to happen, if it’s true, his career is over and his reputation will be shredded.”

  “Knowing how much you look up to him, I can’t imagine how you must feel after hearing their suspicions.”

  Avery tightened his grip on the wheel. “Everyone in the Bureau looks up to him. He’s a god to us. It’s not true. There’s just no way it’s true.”

  “I’m sorry you’re upset.”

  He took a deep breath and tried to shake off the shock of what he’d been told by Sam and Malone. Today was his day to spend with Shelby, and she deserved his complete focus. If there was anything he knew for certain it was that Troy Hamilton could take care of himself. He’d find a way to deflect these accusations away from himself and the Bureau.

  “You want to get something to eat?” he asked.

  “I’m more tired than hungry. I was thinking about a nap.”

  Knowing she tired easily in her second trimester, he said, “Whatever you want.”

  She took hold of his hand and kissed the back of it. “I was hoping you might join me for a rest.”

  Which was code for afternoon nooky. Under normal circumstances, Avery was on board for any kind of nooky she wanted, but today... “Sure, honey.”

  “Are you okay, Avery?”

  “I’m...” He’d been about to say he was fine, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t fine at all. “I’m on edge about what this is going to mean for Hamilton and the Bureau. I’m sorry. Today is our day. No more work.”

  “I understand why you’re upset. If you need to go to the office, we can postpone our plans for another day.”

  Avery thought about that for a minute. “Thanks, but there’s really nothing I can do. It’s not like we have an active case to pursue or anything. This is the weirdest situation I’ve ever encountered, and that’s saying something in my line of work. Sam has Josh under protective custody—”

  “I thought she was suspended.”

  “She was—or is—but that’s not stopping her. Her captain was at her dad’s, so he’s aware that she’s involved. Apparently, Josh was willing to talk to her and only her, which made it necessary for them to involve her.”

  “It’s ridiculous that they suspended her anyway.”

  “She did assault a fellow officer.”

  “Who asked for exactly what he got.”

  “You don’t hear me arguing.”

  Shelby looked over at him. “Do you think the U.S. Attorney will actually charge her for assault?”

  “Hard to say. He’s in a tough spot on this one in light of who she is to the department and the country.”

  “Can you imagine the second lady being charged with assault?”

  “No, I can’t, and I’d be surprised if the administration isn’t leaning on Forrester to go easy on her.”

  “Nick would never condone that.”

  “It’s probably coming from above him.”

  “Wow. You really think the president is involved?”

  “I have no way to know that for certain, but I’d be surprised if he wasn’t. Having his vice president’s wife charged with felony assault isn’t going to look good for any of them. If Nelson can keep it from happening, I’m sure he will, especially since Forrester is a Nelson appointee.”

  “People would go crazy if she gets charged. She’s so popular—not just here anymore but everywhere after what she did during the inauguration.”

  “There’s a lot to consider beyond whether she hit Ramsey or whether he deserved it. I don’t envy Forrester this situation.”

  He parked at the curb outside their townhouse and cut the engine. “Wait for me to come around,” he said as he got out of the car. Ever since she’d fallen a couple of months ago, he treated her as if she were made of spun glass, or at least that’s what she said. But with the sidewalk coated in a thin layer of ice, he wasn’t taking any chances. He opened the passenger door and held out a hand to help her up and out of the car.

  “Thank you.” She curled her hand into the crook of his elbow to climb the stairs he’d salted earlier in the day. “Spring can show up anytime now.”

  “Going to be a few more weeks, I’m afraid.”

  “Ugh, enough already with this cold weather.”

  “I’ll remind you of that when you’re sweltering through the last weeks of pregnancy in the dog days of summer.” Inside, he unwound her puffy pink scarf and used the two ends to draw her closer to him.

  She looked up at him expectantly.

  Sometimes he still had to marvel at the series of events that had led to where they were now—engaged, living together and expecting a child. Whether or not that child was biologically his was of no consequence to him, and that thought led Avery right back to Troy Hamilton and the baffling situation with his son.

  “What?” Shelby asked, reminding him that he’d been about to kiss her.

  “Nothing.” He shook off his worries about Hamilton to focus on her, leaning in to kiss her. “You mentioned a nap?”

  A smile lit up her adorable face. “I did.” She took him by the hand to lead him upstairs to the room they now shared.

  He put up with pink throw pillows on his bed because he loved having her in it, but he’d drawn the line at allowing any other pink in his bedroom. Whenever she teased him about his willingness—or lack thereof—to compromise, he referred to the pink pillows on his bed that were now flying through the air as Shelby prepared for their nap.

  Smiling at her haste, Avery pulled his sweater over his head and dropped his jeans to the floor, kicking them aside. He got into bed and propped his head on his upturned hand to watch her undress. She was effortlessly sexy. Everything she did, every move she made, every word she said turned him on.

  She removed her sweater, revealing the gentle swell of her abdomen and the breasts that were getting bigger by the day, much to her dismay.

  He had no complaints. He lov
ed her. He loved their life and the plans they’d made for the future. But goddamn if he didn’t still react to Sam Holland every fucking time he saw her. Today had been no different. What the hell was wrong with him? How could he be in love with a woman who was perfect for him in every possible way but still be drawn to someone he could never have?

  He didn’t want to want Sam. He’d never wanted it, knowing all along she was permanently off limits to him. And yet... The reaction today was because he hadn’t seen her in a few weeks, or so he told himself. During that time, he’d barely given her a thought. He’d been too busy with his work and his life with Shelby to think about Sam. Yesterday he would’ve said he was well and truly over whatever he’d once felt for her.

  Then he walked into her father’s home, she looked at him with those eyes that saw everything and, as always, he felt like he’d been struck by lightning. Why did that happen every time? Why, why, why? It wasn’t like he wanted to react to her. He didn’t. He wanted to put that madness in the past where it belonged. He wanted to focus on the life he had now with Shelby and the life they were anticipating with the baby. Nowhere in that life was there room for his fascination, or whatever you wanted to call it, with another woman. He’d gone so far as to wonder if he needed to be hypnotized or exorcised or something—anything—that would make it stop once and for all.

  Shelby removed her jeans and panties, putting an extra wiggle in her motions for his benefit, and crawled into bed with him. The feel of her soft skin rubbing against his had an immediate and predictable effect on him.

  She curled her hand around his erection. “Is this all for me?”

  The question hit him like a gut punch. It was all for her. Of course it was. “You know it, sugar.”

  “Mmm, that accent. You could read the phone book to me, and it would turn me on.”

  “Is that so?”

  “God, yes.” Tightening her grip, she stroked him the way he loved it best, her small hand moving quickly up and down his shaft.

  “I do love your naps, Shelby Lynn.”

  Her lips curved into a smile, and then she peppered his chest with kisses.

  Avery ran his fingers through her long blond hair, determined to give her everything she deserved. He had no doubt that she loved him with her full heart and soul. She showed him that every day in a million little ways. Whether it was serving him a perfect cup of coffee fixed just the way he liked it or picking up his shirts from the dry cleaner or... Ah, fuck... She gave one hell of a blow job.