Fatal Affair

by Marie Force

  Inside, he flipped on lights. Sam blinked a comfortable living area into focus. Big, welcoming sofas, a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, overflowing bookshelves on either side of the stone fireplace, framed family photos and a couple of trophies. Here, at last, was Senator John Thomas O’Connor.

  She shrugged off her coat, pushed up the sleeves of her sweater, tugged the clip from her hair and got to work. Two hours later, she had discovered that John loved Hemingway, Shakespeare, Patterson and Grisham. His musical taste ran the gamut from Melencamp to Springsteen, Vivaldi to Bach. She had sifted through photo albums, yearbooks and a file cabinet that seemed to have no rhyme or reason to anyone other than its owner.

  She perused a series of essays John wrote for his senior project at Harvard, detailing the roles of government and the governed. The essays were bound into a small navy blue volume with smart gold embossing.

  “He was proud of that,” Nick said from the doorway to the office.

  Startled, she glanced up at him. She had almost forgotten he was there.

  “His father had the book made and gave it to everyone who was anyone.” Nick stepped into the room and handed her a steaming mug.

  “Oh, is that hot chocolate?” she asked, soaking in the mouthwatering aroma.

  “I figured it was too late for coffee.” He had removed his suit coat and released the top buttons on his dress shirt. Her eyes fixated on a dark tuft of chest hair.

  “You figured right. Fat free, calorie free, I hope.” Swirling her tongue over the dollop of whipped cream on top, she took a moment to appreciate the taste. Looking up at him again, she found his hazel eyes locked on her. “What?” she asked, her voice shakier than she intended it to be.

  “It’s just…you…and whipped cream. It’s giving me ideas.”

  She swallowed, hard.

  “I like your hair down like that,” he added.

  Choosing to ignore the comments and the flush of heat that went rippling through her body, she returned her attention to the book John had dedicated to his father. A photo slid out from between the pages and fell to the floor. Sam put her mug on the desk and leaned over to retrieve the picture of a strapping blond boy of about sixteen in a football uniform.

  “What’ve you got there?” Nick asked.

  “Looks like a photo of John when he was in high school.” She turned it over to find the initials “TJO” and a date from four years earlier. “Oh. It’s not him. Who’s TJO?”

  Nick took the photo from her, studied the likeness, and then turned it over. “I have no idea, but he could be John when I first met him.”

  “Did he have a son, Nick?” She thought of Patricia Donaldson and the three-thousand-dollar-a-month payments.

  “Of course not.”

  “You’re sure of that?”

  “I’m positive,” he said hotly. “I’ve known him since he was eighteen. If he had a son, I’d know it.”

  “Well, if that’s not his son, whoever he is, he bears a striking resemblance to John.” Sam tucked the photo into her bag with plans to ask the senator’s parents about it in the morning. “He had quite a thing for Spider-Man, huh?” She gestured to the shelves in the corner that housed John’s extensive stash of Spiderman collectibles.

  Nick smiled. “He was obsessed.”

  She picked up a carved placard from the desk that bore Spider-Man’s signature saying, With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility. Studying it for a long moment, she glanced at Nick. “Did he believe this?”

  “Very much so. Despite his sometimes lackadaisical approach to his job, he took his responsibilities as seriously as he was able to.”

  “But not as seriously as you would have.”

  “Let’s just say if our roles had been reversed, I would’ve done a lot of things differently.”

  “Have you ever wanted to be the one in the corner office?”

  “God no,” he said with a guffaw. “I work much better as the guy behind the guy.” He seemed to sober when he remembered he had lost his guy when John died.

  “With his parents’ okay, I’d like to have a team go through here more methodically tomorrow.” She stretched and got up. “I’m running out of gas after twenty hours.”

  “I’m guessing you’ll want to talk to his parents about that photo,” Nick said, “so why don’t we crash here and go see them in the morning?”

  Her eyes darted up to meet his. “I’m not sleeping with you.”

  “I’m not asking you to,” he said with a sexy smile. “There’s a guestroom I use when I’m here. I’ll take John’s room.”

  Sam ran it around in her mind as she finished her hot chocolate. Technically, the cabin wasn’t a crime scene, so she didn’t have an issue there. She was exhausted, he didn’t look much better, and she could knock a few things off her to-do list in the morning if she stayed in Leesburg, including another discussion with Terry O’Connor if he was available.

  “All right,” she said, even though she would’ve preferred separate hotel rooms, but hotels were in short supply in that corner of the county. She got up to follow Nick down the hallway to the bedrooms.

  “Bathroom’s in there,” he pointed. In the guestroom, he rooted through an antique chest of drawers and pulled out a large T-shirt. “One of mine if you want something to sleep in. There’re extra toothbrushes and anything else you might need in the bathroom closet.”

  “Thanks,” she said, embarrassed and shy all of a sudden—two emotions she rarely experienced.

  He slid a hand around her neck to draw her in close to him. For a long, breathless moment he just looked at her before he kissed her forehead. “I’ll see you in the morning. Holler if you need anything.”

  Devastated by the simple kiss, she watched him cross the hall, her heart pounding and her hands damp. She hated being off balance and out of kilter, which of course was why he had done it. Feeling defiant, she used the bathroom and then left the shirt he had given her on the bed as she stripped out of her clothes and slid naked between the cool sheets.

  Less than a minute later, she was out cold.

  “Sam. Honey, wake up. You’re dreaming.”

  Sam could hear him but couldn’t seem to force her eyes open.

  “Babe.”

  Her eyes fluttered open to find Nick sitting on the bed.

  When he brushed the hair back from her face, she realized she was sweating and her heart was racing.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Mmm, sorry.” It occurred to her that she must’ve been loud if she had woken him. She glanced at him, noticing he wore only a pair of sweats, and let her eyes take a slow journey over his muscular chest.

  “It was a doozy, huh? The dream?”

  “I don’t know. I never remember the details, just the fear.” She rubbed a weary hand over her cheek and wished for a glass of water. “Did I…um…say anything?”

  He replaced the hand she had on her face with his own. “You kept saying, ‘Cease fire, hold your fire.’”

  “Shit,” she said with a deep sigh.

  He stretched out next to her on top of the comforter and settled her head on his shoulder. “It was a traumatic thing, Sam, but it wasn’t your fault.”

  Steeped in the masculine scent of citrus and spice, she closed her eyes against the rush of emotion and absorbed the comfort he offered. Just for a minute. His chest hair brushed against her face, making her want him so fiercely. “If only I could forgive myself as easily as you’ve forgiven me.”

  He brought her closer to him.

  “Um, Nick?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I’m kind of naked under here.”

  “Yeah, I noticed.”

  As all the reasons this was a bad idea came crashing down on her, she attempted to struggle out of his embrace. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t have this. I can’t have you.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  Her face still pressed to his chest, Sam gave herself another second to wallow in the sc
ent that she’d never forgotten. “Not here. Not now.”

  He released a deep, ragged breath. “I missed you, Sam. I thought about you, about that night, so often.”

  “I did, too,” she said, her eyes closed tight against the onslaught of emotions she’d only felt this acutely once before.

  “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you. If you’re in the room, I want you.”

  “I seem to have the same problem.”

  “We’ve got a few hours until daybreak. Would it be okay if I just held you until then?”

  “I’d love nothing more, but it’s too tempting. You’re too tempting.”

  Sighing again, he released her and sat up. He leaned down to press a soft kiss to her lips. “See you in the morning.”

  Sam watched him go, knowing she’d never get back to sleep with every cell in her body on fire for him.

  Chapter 15

  Sam corralled her hair into a ponytail, strapped on her shoulder holster, clipped the badge to her belt, and adjusted her suit jacket over the same scoop-necked top she’d worn yesterday. When she was ready, she took a long look around to make sure she wasn’t leaving behind any sign that she had spent the night for the team she planned to send in there later that day. Satisfied by the quick sweep of the room, she emerged to find Nick waiting for her in the living room. Somehow he managed to appear pressed and polished in yesterday’s clothes. His face was smooth and his hair still damp from the shower.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  Wrapping her coat and his arms around her, he hugged her from behind and pressed kisses to her neck and cheek before he finally let go.

  The spontaneous demonstration of affection caught her off guard. Unless it was leading to sex, Peter had never bothered with the random acts of affection that Nick doled out so effortlessly. Nick seemed to need to touch her if she was near him. That she liked it so much was just another reason to keep her distance.

  The O’Connors’s home was located two miles up the main road from John’s cabin. Once again, Carrie met them at the door and was surprised to see them out so early.

  “Are they up?” Nick asked.

  “They’re having breakfast. Come on in.” She led them into the cozy country kitchen where Graham and Laine sat at the table lost in their own thoughts. Neither of them seemed to be eating much of anything.

  Both had dark circles under their eyes. Weariness and grief clung to them.

  “Nick?” Graham said. “You’re out early. Sergeant.”

  Carrie handed mugs of coffee to Sam and Nick.

  “Thank you,” Nick said.

  “I’m sorry to barge in on you so early.” Sam stirred cream into her coffee and wished it was a diet cola. “But I have something I need to ask you.”

  “Of course,” Laine said. “Whatever we can do to help.”

  Sam retrieved the photo from her bag. “Who is this?” She placed the photo on the table between them.

  They looked at the photo and then at each other.

  “Where’d you get this?” Graham asked.

  “At the cabin,” Nick said. “The photo was tucked into the essay book you had made for him.”

  “It’s John’s cousin, Thomas,” Laine said, glancing up at Sam with cool patrician eyes. “His father is Graham’s brother Robert.”

  “I don’t remember John mentioning a cousin that young,” Nick said.

  Laine shrugged. “There were almost twenty years between them. They were hardly close.”

  “He looks an awful lot like your son,” Sam said, testing for reactions.

  “Yes, he does,” Graham said, his expression neutral. “Is there anything else?”

  “Do you know where I can find Terry?” Sam said.

  The question seemed to startle both O’Connors.

  “I believe he’s working in the city this morning,” Graham said.

  “The address?”

  He rattled off the name and K Street address of a prominent lobbying firm, which Sam wrote down in the small notebook she pulled from her back pocket. “If you have no objection, I’d like to send a team into the cabin today to make sure we’re not missing something that could help with the case.”

  “Strange people in John’s home?” Laine asked, visibly disturbed by the notion.

  “Police,” Sam clarified. “They’ll be as respectful as possible.”

  “That’s fine,” Graham said with a pointed look at his wife. “If it’ll help the investigation, do it.”

  “Can you tell me, Senator, who might still have keys to the apartment at the Watergate from when you lived there?”

  Graham pondered that for a moment. “Only my family.”

  “No staffers or aides?”

  “My chief of staff had one, but I distinctly recall him giving it back to me when we left office.”

  “Any chance he might’ve had others made, given them to other people?”

  “No. He was a guard dog about my privacy. He didn’t even like having the key himself.”

  “Are you aware, either of you, that John spoke with Patricia Donaldson in Chicago several times a week for an hour or more each time?”

  Again the O’Connors exchanged glances.

  “No, but I’m not surprised,” Graham said. “They were close friends as children.”

  “Just friends?”

  “Yes,” Laine said pointedly, so pointedly in fact that it raised Sam’s hackles and her radar. There was more to this story. Of that she had no doubt. She’d be speaking to Patricia Donaldson as soon as she could arrange a trip to Chicago.

  “John is still due to be moved today to Richmond?” Laine asked Nick.

  He nodded. “The motorcade is leaving Washington at noon.”

  “We’ll be going down to Richmond this afternoon,” Graham said. “The state police are escorting us and clearing the way for us to get in and out before they open it to the public.”

  “The staff will have a private viewing in the morning,” Nick said.

  “You got the clothes they needed?” Laine asked.

  “Yes. I’m heading to the funeral home from here. Um, about the funeral… Have you decided who you want to have speak on behalf of the family?”

  “You do it,” Laine said with a weary sigh.

  “Are you sure? You wouldn’t rather have a family member?”

  “You are family to us, Nick,” Graham said. “You’ll do him proud. We know that.”

  “I’ll do my best,” he said softly. “We should let you get back to your breakfast.”

  “We’ll see you Monday, if not before,” Laine said.

  Nick leaned over to kiss her cheek. “I’ll be in touch.”

  She squeezed the hand he rested on her shoulder. “Thank you for all you’re doing. I know it can’t be easy for you.”

  “It’s an honor and a privilege.”

  Patting his hand once more, she released him.

  Nick hugged Graham and kissed Carrie on his way out of the kitchen. With his hand on the small of her back, he steered Sam to the front door. Once they were outside, he took a deep, rattling breath of cold air.

  Since there was little else she could do to comfort him, she held his hand between both of hers all the way back to Washington.

  After fighting their way through rush-hour traffic, Nick pulled up to the Watergate with fifteen minutes to spare before Sam’s appointment with Senator Stenhouse.

  “So much for going home to change first,” she grumbled. “Freddie will have a field day with this.”

  “Tell him you worked all night. Won’t be a total lie.”

  “It’ll be a good excuse to remind him that I outrank him and can order him to shut up. He likes that.”

  Nick smiled and reached for the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He withdrew a small leather case and handed her his business card. “Call me? My cell number is on there.”

  She took the card, stuffed it in her pocket and reached for the door.

 
He stopped her before she could get out. “Talk to me before Monday so we can arrange to go to the funeral together if you still want me to help you ID people.”

  “I do. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Remember to eat and sleep, will you?”

  “Yeah, right,” she said on her way out the door.

  Nick waited, probably to make sure her car started because he was polite that way, and then pulled into traffic just ahead of her.

  On the way to Capitol Hill, Sam called Gonzo and asked him to oversee the sift through John O’Connor’s cabin.

  “It’s not a crime scene, so I’m not interested in fingerprints or DNA. I’m just looking for anything we don’t already know about him.”

  “Gotcha. So we got confirmation that the blood in Christina Billings’s car was her own.”

  “Well, I guess that closes that loop,” Sam said. “There’s no way she made it across town, killed him, showered, cleaned up the bathroom and got back with Chinese food in twenty-eight minutes. Not in this town with this traffic, even at midnight.”

  “No way is right,” Gonzo agreed. “I’ll get a team together and get out to Leesburg this morning.”

  “You’d better notify Loudoun County, too, so we don’t have jurisdictional trouble.” She paused before she added, “Full disclosure—I crashed in the guestroom there last night. I needed to see his parents in the morning, and it saved me some time. Cappuano slept in the senator’s room.”

  “Okay.”

  “If you could keep that tidbit to yourself, I’d owe you one.”

  He laughed. “I like having you indebted to me. Just let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”

  “There is one thing,” she said, playing the hunch. “Do a run on Graham O’Connor’s brother, Robert. I need the deal on his family, offspring in particular. If you can get photos, even better.”

  “Will do,” Gonzo said. “I’ll call you with what I find out. So, um, you saw the papers this morning I assume…”

  Sam’s stomach took a queasy dip that reminded her she hadn’t eaten or had either of the two diet colas she usually relied upon to jumpstart her day. “No, why?”