Fatal Destiny

by Marie Force

  “Oh, well, no problem,” Cruz said, clearly flustered by her appreciation.

  “Means a lot to me,” she added. “I won’t forget it.”

  “Let’s hope it leads somewhere this time,” Gonzo said. He handed her another sheet of paper with the last known addresses for Simmons and Gardner as well as the bagged newspaper clippings about her father’s shooting that they’d found in Reece’s house.

  “Yes,” Sam said. “Let’s hope.” She wasn’t sure she could withstand another disappointment just then.

  Chapter 3

  “I want to see Roberto first,” Sam decided.

  “Been a while,” Freddie replied.

  Sam didn’t like to think about the six months she’d spent undercover with the Johnson family. The investigation into a far-reaching drug ring in the city, a special assignment she’d been handpicked for, ended so badly she still had nightmares about the hail of gunfire that took young Quentin Johnson’s life.

  Intellectually, Sam knew it hadn’t been her fault. Yes, she’d ordered her officers to return fire, but how could she have known that Marquis Johnson would be stupid enough to bring his young son to a crack house? In all the months she’d been undercover with the Johnsons, she had never once seen Quentin in that house. She was still struggling with the outcome more than nine months later.

  “Don’t go there, Sam,” Freddie said, knowing how she’d suffered in the aftermath of that calamitous night.

  “Hard not to.” For months after the incident, she had repeatedly woken in a sweat, after hearing Marquis’s tortured screams in her sleep. Sam shuddered. Only to close her father’s baffling case would she take a step back in time to the lowest point in her career.

  “What do you think Roberto knows?”

  “Everything that goes on in Washington Highlands. I should’ve thought to ask him about Reece’s house before now.”

  “Don’t feel bad—I didn’t think of him, either.”

  They arrived at a public housing complex on Southern Avenue. As Sam and Freddie made their way from the parking lot to a first-floor unit, they caught the attention of those gathered outside. The residents of the crime-riddled neighborhood knew cops when they saw them. Before Sam could knock on Roberto’s door, a gorgeous young woman with long dark hair and eyes opened it. She eyed Sam suspiciously.

  “What do you want?” she asked. “We got no trouble around here.”

  “I’m not looking for any trouble,” Sam said. “Is Roberto around?”

  She looked Sam up and down. “Who wants to know?”

  Sam showed her badge. “Lieutenant Holland. MPD.”

  “Let her in, Angel,” came a voice from inside the apartment.

  Giving Sam a glare, she stepped aside to let Sam pass but put up a hand to stop Freddie. “He said her.”

  “She doesn’t go in there without me,” Freddie said.

  Sam turned to see Freddie and Angel locked in a battle of wills. Just as she was about to tell him to wait in the hallway, Angel backed down and let him by. He gave Sam a satisfied grin.

  “Long time no see,” Roberto said. He held up a closed fist to Sam.

  Sam returned the fist bump, looking down at the good-looking young man in the wheelchair whom she had befriended during the Johnson investigation. As one of the lower-ranking members of the Johnson organization, Roberto hadn’t much registered on Marquis Johnson’s radar, which is how Sam had been able to get close to him. He had short dark hair and world-weary eyes. He’d seen far too much far too soon. “How goes it, Roberto?”

  He shrugged. “Good days, bad days. Today’s been a good day. You ain’t gonna change that, are ya?”

  “Nope. I’m wondering what you know about Trace Simmons and Darius Gardner.”

  Roberto let out a low whistle. “What’s a nice girl like you asking about a couple hard-core bangers like them for?”

  Sam smiled at him. The shootout in the crack house had changed his life too—in some ways for the better. While the bullet wound had stolen his legs, it had also given him a way out of a life that was going nowhere fast. Sam had helped him get a job as a clerk with the city.

  Sam filled him in on what’d happened at Reece’s house and the possible connection to Simmons and Gardner.

  “I read about that dude taking you hostage. You like to keep it real, huh?”

  Sam rolled her eyes. “A little too real lately.”

  “For what it’s worth, I ain’t never heard either of them brag about shooting no cop—and those two? They woulda talked.”

  Sam kept her expression neutral to hide the rush of disappointment. She knew she should be used to it by now after so many dashed leads, but the letdown never got easier to take.

  “That don’t mean they didn’t do it, though,” he quickly added. “They both got long sheets, and doing a cop would put ’em away for a long stretch. They mighta kept it on the down low cuza that.”

  “What do you know about them?”

  “Simmons busted outta the foster system a million times ’til they finally gave up on him and let him go. He’s been on the streets since he was a kid. Rotten little bastard. Takes care of number one. Gardner’s a total douche bag. That girl who said he raped her?”

  Sam nodded.

  “She’s my second cousin. I saw her right after it happened. No doubt he did it.”

  “Why’d it get squashed?”

  “No fuckin’ clue. The U.S. attorney tossed it and never told us why.”

  Something stunk to high heaven there, and Sam planned to find out what.

  “You can’t go from me to them,” he said, looking like a fearful kid. “You’ll get me iced.”

  “You’re not tied up in that shit any more. Are you?”

  “Hell, no. That don’t mean nothin’ to them though. They hear I’m squealing to a cop, and my life ain’t worth shit. You know that.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be careful.”

  Roberto studied her for a long moment. “You still dream about it? That night?”

  Sam nodded. “Not as often as I used to, but when I do…”

  “It’s bad,” he said, his tone full of understanding. “I hear Quentin…”

  “I do too. That’s the part I can’t forget.”

  “Such a cute kid with two assholes for parents. Worst thing I ever did getting mixed up with Marquis Johnson.”

  “At least you figured that out before you ended up in jail or dead.”

  “Came damn close to dead,” he said, his hands resting on useless legs.

  “How’ve you been adapting?”

  “As well as anyone ever does, I guess.” He glanced at Angel. “Thank God for my girl. She’s got my back.”

  “I’d like to get you together with my dad some time.”

  “He’s in a chair too, right?”

  “Yeah. C3-C4.”

  Roberto winced. “That blows.”

  “Big time.”

  “If you want me to meet him, I’m down with that.”

  “We’ll set it up. After the wedding.”

  His face was transformed by the innocent smile. Not that long ago he’d been living a life of crime, and Sam couldn’t be more proud of the changes he’d made. “I’ve been reading all ’bout you and your senator.” He let out a low whistle. “Fancy, fancy.”

  Embarrassed, Sam rolled her eyes. “Not all that fancy.”

  “Whatever you say, lady cop. I watch the news. I see the way that guy looks at you. He’s diggin’ you big.”

  Roberto’s teasing words sent a twinge of discomfort through Sam. She had to stop holding Nick at arm’s length and find a way to reconnect with him before the wedding. Now that she had taken the chance of pregnancy off the table, maybe it wouldn’t be so damned hard to look into his amazing eyes and not see the pain he tried to keep hidden from her.

  Losing their baby had hit him hard too. He had grown up without a family of his own. More than anything, Sam had wanted to fill that void for him with a house full of kids.
But now… She just couldn’t go there anymore. Not even for him.

  “Hey, yo,” Roberto said. “Where’d you zone out to?”

  “Sorry.”

  “Didn’t mean to bum you out.”

  “You didn’t. Thanks for the info.” She lifted her fist to him. “It was good to see you.”

  Rather than fist bump her, he curled his hand around hers in a gesture that touched her. “Don’t be a stranger.”

  “I won’t.”

  He released her hand. “Have a nice wedding, Sam. You deserve to be happy.”

  “So do you.”

  “I’m getting there.”

  “Keep up the good work. Make me proud.” Following Freddie out of the apartment, Sam ignored the glare she received from Angel. Outside, she took deep breaths of the unseasonably cool air.

  “He seems good,” Freddie said. He’d worked behind the scenes to support Sam while she was undercover and knew better than anyone what she’d been through during that difficult assignment.

  “Better than the last time I saw him. That’s for sure.” Seeing Roberto took Sam right back to the horrible days that followed the crack house shooting. She’d snuck into the hospital under the cover of darkness to check on the young man who’d become one of her only friends among the Johnson crowd.

  At first Roberto had been furious to learn her true identity, but when Sam offered to find him a way out of his life of crime, he’d come around and let her help him. Knowing he was just a kid who’d been sucked into something way bigger than he’d ever bargained for, Sam stepped up for him with the U.S. attorney. As a result, they’d declined to prosecute him as one of Marquis Johnson’s group of drug runners.

  Sam figured the permanent loss of his legs was punishment enough for the petty crimes Roberto had committed to earn favor with Marquis.

  “You did a good thing for him, Sam,” Freddie said when they were in the car. “He’s gotten his life back on track.”

  “So it seems.” Who, she wondered, was going to help get hers back on track?

  “What’s next?” Freddie asked.

  “Let’s go see Faith Miller. I want to know why that rape charge got quashed.”

  “So do I.”

  Sam and Freddie waited twenty minutes in the U.S. attorney’s reception area for Faith to return from court.

  “Ah,” she said, lighting up when she saw them waiting. “Here comes the bride!”

  “Very funny,” Sam said. “Thank God it’s almost here so I can be done with all the bride jokes.”

  “Just FYI,” Freddie said, “I’d planned on another six to eight months of jokes.”

  Sam rewarded him with her sweetest smile. “Not if you expect to continue carrying a gold shield, Detective.”

  Faith laughed at their banter and showed them into her office. She was one of the identical triplets who served the District as assistant U.S. attorneys. While Sam had also worked closely with Hope and Charity, she was friendliest with Faith.

  “What can I do for you?” Faith asked.

  “Darius Gardner,” Sam said.

  All the color drained from Faith’s face, and she sat perfectly still behind her file-laden desk. “What about him?”

  Sam watched Faith closely. “You remember the case?”

  The AUSA shrugged. “Rape accusation a few years back. Didn’t go anywhere.” She affected a casual tone of voice, but Sam caught the slight tremble of her hand. Glancing at Freddie, she saw that he’d noticed it too.

  “What the hell is going on here, Faith?” Sam asked.

  “I don’t know what you mean. You asked about a case, and I answered you. What more do you want?”

  “I want the truth!”

  “Why do you care about an old rape case that never made it to court?”

  “Why do you remember an old rape case that never made it to court?”

  The two women stared at each other.

  “I asked first,” Faith said.

  “Fine. The place where he ‘allegedly’ raped that girl is the same house where Clarence Reece lived.”

  “The guy who killed his family and carjacked you.”

  “Right. Cruz, the clippings?”

  Freddie handed her the plastic bag containing the clippings about her father’s shooting.

  Sam placed the bag on the desk in front of Faith. “This was found in Reece’s place. Before he offed himself the day he carjacked me, he told me the stuff belonged to a former tenant who’d left it there and never come back to claim it.”

  “And you think that’s Gardner?”

  “I don’t know. He was one of several people who lived there before Reece moved in.”

  “Who are the other people?”

  “Trace Simmons is one of them.”

  “I know the name. Gangbanger.”

  Sam nodded in agreement. “Are you going to tell me why hearing Gardner’s name freaks you out so badly?”

  Faith’s eyes shifted to Freddie and then back to Sam.

  “Give us a minute, will you, Cruz?” Sam said.

  “Of course.” He got up and left the room, closing the door behind him.

  Sam waited patiently, giving the other woman a moment to collect herself. “What happened, Faith?” she finally asked.

  “This stays between us.”

  “I need to hear what’s staying between us before I agree to anything.”

  Faith gripped a pen with both hands.

  Sam had never seen the usually cool, unflappable prosecutor so undone.

  “I want to help you find the person who shot your father, Sam, but I’m not talking about Gardner.”

  “Then I’ll go to Forrester,” Sam said, referring to the U.S. attorney. “I’ll ask him why a slam dunk rape case was thrown out by one of his AUSAs before it ever got to court.”

  “Don’t.”

  “Tell me why I shouldn’t.”

  “For Christ sake, Sam! Just leave it the hell alone! You’re wading into something you can’t even begin to understand.”

  “You’re seriously saying that to me? What the fuck, Faith? What waters do you think I won’t understand after twelve years on this goddamned job?” The other woman’s hands were now visibly shaking. “Whatever it is, you can trust me with it. You know that.”

  When Faith looked up at her there was none of the hard-nosed prosecutor Sam had come to know and respect. Rather, she looked into the eyes of a very frightened woman. In a low, soft tone, Faith said, “He threatened to have my baby niece Molly killed if I didn’t drop the case.”

  Sam tried to digest that. “And you believed him? Surely you’ve been threatened before.”

  “Not like this. There’s something truly evil about this guy, Sam. You bet your ass I believed him.”

  “Who knows about this?”

  “You and me. Hope had just had Molly. I couldn’t exactly share this with her or Charity. If Forrester ever found out, it would end my career—and theirs, if they knew. I never told anyone why we declined to prosecute.”

  “What did you tell Forrester?”

  “That I didn’t think we could win. He’s a politician. He wants wins. It didn’t take much to convince him to dismiss the charges.”

  “How about the special victims detectives?” She could only imagine what her police colleagues had thought about their solid case being tossed.

  “Gardner claimed the sex was entirely consensual. I told the SVU detectives it would turn into a he said, she said in court.”

  “And you knew that wasn’t true.”

  “The pictures from the victim’s rape kit haunt me,” she said with a defeated sigh. “Nothing about that encounter was consensual. I have no doubt I could’ve gotten a conviction.”

  “Why didn’t you come to me?”

  Faith’s green eyes flooded with tears. “They said they’d chop up the baby and send her back to us in pieces.”

  Fury, hot and potent, streaked through Sam. “Start at the beginning. Don’t leave anything out.”
/>   “Sam, please. I’m asking you as a colleague and a friend—leave it alone.”

  Sam rested her elbows on Faith’s desk and leaned in. “I’m going to nail his ass to the wall, and you’re going to help me.”

  Faith shook her head and wiped the tears from her face. “Molly is almost three now. How can you ask me to risk that beautiful child—my sister’s child?”

  “How can you sleep knowing you’ve let a violent rapist roam free all this time?”

  “I haven’t gotten a full night of sleep in years.”

  “Faith, come on! You took an oath!”

  “Don’t you dare talk to me about oaths! She’s my niece! Tell me how well I’d sleep if I go after this sleezeball and something happens to her!”

  “You need to talk to Hope about this. She’ll tell you the same thing I’m telling you.”

  Faith snorted with disdain. “She’ll agree with me. We’re talking about her child. Don’t you have nieces and nephews, Sam?”

  “Four,” Sam muttered. “Fifth one on the way.”

  “Put yourself in my place—what would you do if someone threatened to chop one of them up and mail him or her back to you in pieces?”

  Sam couldn’t even get her head around the idea of it, so she didn’t try. “How did he get to you?”

  “One of his buddies conveyed the message along with up-close photos of the baby with a gun pointed to her head. I have no idea how they got that close to her, but it certainly got my attention. The next day, Gardner and I came face-to-face in the courthouse. He smiled at me…” A shudder rippled through her willowy frame, and her face lost every bit of remaining color. “The evil…Just pure evil. I knew, right in that moment, that he’d have Molly killed if I pursued prosecution.”

  “I have to ask you… Has anything like this ever happened before?”

  “If you’re asking if I’ve been threatened before, the answer is yes. Almost weekly. But I’ve never before or since backed away from a prosecution because of a threat. This one was different.”

  Sam sat back in her chair, frustrated and furious. “I wish you’d come to me.”