by Marie Force
“Are all new parents this much of a mess?” he asked as he tugged the T-shirt over his head.
“Probably, but most of them have nine months to prepare for it. You’ve only had a few days.”
“What do you think about Angela offering to watch him for me while I’m at work?”
“It sounds ideal to me. She’s someone you trust who certainly knows what she’s doing.”
He sat next to her on the bed and reached for her hand. “I can’t believe how it all worked out. A week ago, I didn’t even know he existed. And now…”
Christina leaned her head on his shoulder. “Now you can’t imagine your life without him.”
“Yes. Exactly.” He squeezed her hand, appreciating that she seemed to understand how he was feeling. “I have to find a way to tell my parents about this—soon.”
“I’m sure they’ll be very excited for you and on the first plane back from Arizona.”
“I hope they won’t be disappointed about how it happened. Not my finest hour.”
“But look what it got you—an adorable son.”
“True.”
“They might be upset at first by how it happened, but once they see him and that dimpled chin of his, they’ll fall in love too.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Come on.” She tugged his hand to urge him into bed. “You need to sleep.”
“Shouldn’t I check on him one more time?”
She laughed. “He’s fine, Tommy.”
Reluctantly, he let her draw him into bed. If she hadn’t been there, he probably would’ve stood watch by the crib all night long. After she shut off the light, he reached for her. When she was settled in her usual spot with her head on his chest, her arm across his belly and her leg intertwined with his, he exhaled a long deep breath. So this was what it felt like to have a family of his own, he thought. A woman who’d become indispensible to him and a baby he’d fallen for at first sight.
It hadn’t happened the conventional way his mother probably would’ve preferred, but somehow it had happened.
“What’re you thinking about?” she asked.
“That I like this—having you here with me and him sleeping in the next room.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I guess I am a little. I never saw my life turning out this way.”
“And what way is it turning out?”
“Settled.”
“Is that bad?”
He heard vulnerability in her question and wanted to reassure her. Kissing the top of her head, he said, “It’s good—very, very good. I know it’s a lot for you to take on, Christina. You didn’t sign on for a guy with a baby…”
“I signed on for you, and Alex comes with the package now. I get that, Tommy, so please don’t worry about me.” She rested her fingers on his lips. “Shut it all off for a while and get some sleep. You’re going to need it.”
He tried to close down his whirling mind because he knew she was right. The baby would be up before the night was out, and he needed to sleep while he could. For a long time after she drifted off, he stared into the darkness. When he was sure she was asleep, he extricated himself from her embrace, got up, tugged on a pair of boxers and went across the hall—just to make sure his son was still breathing.
Sam woke up to find Nick studying the ceiling. She shifted to her side and rested her hand on his chest. “Did you sleep?”
“Some.”
Which meant not much. “Want to talk about it?”
“Nope.” He surprised her when he abruptly got up and headed for the shower.
“Hmm,” Sam said to the empty room. Not sure how to play this one, she lay there for a few minutes mulling over her options. Then she got up and went into the bathroom. She opened the shower door. “Want some company?”
“Sure.”
The one-word answers were driving her nuts, but she kept her mouth shut and got busy washing her hair. Usually, he liked to do that for her, but today he didn’t offer, and she didn’t ask. In the aftermath of Julian Sinclair’s murder, she’d learned to give him space to let him deal with things his own way. But Sam worried about him bouncing back from yet another setback when he was still grieving his lost friends.
“I wonder how Gonzo is making out with the baby,” Sam said, deciding that he’d prefer to talk about anything other than the elephant in the room.
“He got custody?” Nick asked.
At least he was up to three words. That was progress. “Yes.” Sam filled him in on what had happened the day before.
“Wow. That’s amazing. Good for him.”
“Tough timing right in the middle of the case.”
“I can imagine.”
Under normal circumstances, Sam might try to talk to him about the odd feelings pinging around inside of her since hearing that Gonzo won custody of the son he hadn’t even known he had until a few days ago. Here she was, desperately wanting a baby she probably couldn’t have, and one had landed in her friend’s arms. While she was genuinely happy for Gonzo, she couldn’t help being a little jealous too. But with Nick nursing his own hurts, she didn’t think this was the time to mention hers.
They went through the motions of getting dressed and eating breakfast, and still Nick remained quiet and withdrawn.
Sam put her cereal bowl in the dishwasher and turned to study him. He seemed to be absorbed in the Washington Post, but she wondered if he was really reading or using the newspaper to avoid talking to her. She went to him and rested her hands on his shoulders, bending to press a kiss to his smooth cheek. “May I say something?”
Reluctantly—or so it seemed to her—he nodded.
“I get that you’re used to dealing with this stuff on your own because you didn’t have anyone else to share it with, but now you do. You don’t have to go through this or anything else by yourself anymore.”
He reached up to take her hand and brought it to his lips. “I appreciate that you want to help, babe, and as soon as I figure out what I need, you’ll be the first to know, okay?”
“Fair enough. I can’t stand to see you suffering in silence, Nick.”
He shifted the chair and brought her down to sit on his lap, wrapping his strong arms around her. They sat there for a long time, until Sam pulled back to caress his face and kiss him. “I love you. I wish I had time to go to Cleveland and tell her what I think of her.”
That drew a short laugh from him. “She wouldn’t know what hit her.”
“Might be just what she needs.”
“No doubt, but it won’t change anything. It is what it is.”
“Will you be okay today?”
He nodded. “I’ve got another long day and dinner with Richard and Judson at the Old Ebbitt after work,” he said, referring to the Virginia Democratic Party leadership.
Recalling that John O’Connor had spent his last night alive doing the exact same thing, Sam shuddered.
“What?”
“That was how John spent his last night.”
“Yeah.”
The sadness she saw on his face made her sorry she’d mentioned it, especially right now when he had something else making him sad.
“Life goes on,” he said. “Even when we think it won’t.”
The statement reminded her of the aftermath of the ectopic pregnancy during her marriage to Peter that had nearly taken her life and her sanity. “I’m here if you need me today.” She got up from his lap. “Don’t hesitate to call. I’m never too busy for you.”
“You’re being extra careful, right?”
“I’m being tailed.” She frowned as she checked her watch. “In fact, my posse should be arriving any second.” As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Sam forced a smile. “Right on time.”
He stood up to hug her. “I know you hate it, but remember, it’s temporary. The faster you find this guy, the faster you lose the tail.”
“I know, I know. I just wonder if they’d insist on a tail if he’d threatened a m
ale cop.”
“They probably would.”
“Right…”
“I haven’t forgotten that I offered to do some digging on the senators Maria and Regina cleaned for. I’ll do that today.”
“Thanks. While you’re at it, see if Christina gave your cell number to anyone new this week.”
“Be careful today, Sam.”
“I always am.” She cradled his face in her hands and left him with one last kiss. “Hang in there, Senator.”
“I always do.”
“Tell me you have something,” Sam said to Lindsey McNamara.
“Just stuff you already suspected—the DNA from Maria matched guy number two from Regina, and he’s not in the system. Regina’s fetus was definitely Lightfeather’s.”
“Okay,” Sam said. “I needed the confirmation even though we already knew, so thanks for that. How soon until you can confirm that guy number two grabbed Jeannie?”
“I’m running her rape kit now.” Lindsey’s green eyes went soft with compassion. “How is she?”
“Not good,” Sam said. “Not that all rapes aren’t vicious, but this one was particularly so. Probably because she’s a cop.”
Dismayed, Lindsey shook her head. “Unbelievable. Let me know if I can do anything else to help catch this asshole.”
“You got it, Doc. Thanks.”
Malone came in as Lindsey was leaving.
“What’s up?” Sam asked him.
“No luck from our end figuring out who your mole is.”
“You talked to Stahl?”
“Denied it vehemently and was ‘offended’ you suggested it could be him.”
“Whatever.”
“They’ve set a date for Peter’s hearing.”
Sam braced herself. “When?”
“Tomorrow.”
“I can’t believe they’re really going through with this.”
“Neither can I or anyone else around here, but you need to prepare yourself, Sam.”
“How do I prepare myself to have the ex-husband who tried to kill me and my fiancé back on the streets?”
“If he screwed up once, he’ll do it again, and next time we’ll nail him.”
“Will that be before or after he kills me—or Nick?” Remembering that day—the huge explosion, being propelled through the air into the bushes outside Nick’s former home in Virginia, the smells, the blood on his face, the shattered glass, the ringing in her ears…A shudder rippled through her.
“We’ll be watching him, Lieutenant. Count on that.”
“Well, since my life—and Nick’s—probably depends on it, I’ll count on you to make sure we have eyes and ears on him.” She glanced up at him. “You really think he’ll get sprung.”
He gave a short nod. “Unfortunately.”
“Sometimes our justice system really sucks.”
“Yes, it does, but it’s the only one we have. We’ll get him next time, Sam. I promise.”
“I just hope I’m alive to see it.”
Malone winced. “I’m sorry about all of this. I feel like we failed you so profoundly.”
Sam shook her head. “No, you didn’t. I was as responsible as anyone for what happened that night. I should’ve known better.”
“Will you attend the hearing tomorrow?”
Sam thought about that for a minute. “No, I don’t think I will. Why should I give him the satisfaction of thinking he’s that important to me? You’ll be there, right?”
Malone nodded. “You bet I will.”
“Just make sure he comes out with a big fat restraining order keeping him as far away from me, Nick and my family as we can get him. I want every member of my family named in the order.”
“That much I can do,” he said on his way out.
Just the thought of Peter back on the streets was enough to make her sick, so Sam took a moment to clear her mind and refocus.
Freddie came in a few minutes later.
“Grand Central Station around here this morning,” Sam said.
“What’s the matter with you? You’re pale as a ghost.”
“Peter’s hearing is tomorrow.”
“Crap.”
“Yeah,” she said, shaking it off. Time to get back to work. She refused to give that asshole one more ounce of her energy. She’d already given him far too much. “What’s up?”
“Someone here to see you, boss.”
“Who is it?”
“Patricia Donaldson,” he whispered.
Sam’s eyes widened. She was the mother of John O’Connor’s son—the son who had murdered his father and several other people. “What does she want?”
“To talk to you. That’s all she would say.”
“Ugh,” Sam said. “Like I need this today. While I’m with her, get me the names and addresses of the numbers that showed up on both Regina’s and Maria’s phones. Also, tell Archie he has thirty minutes to get me the dump on Lightfeather’s phone and Nick’s,” she said, referring to Lt. Archelotta, who ran the IT squad. “I don’t care what he has to do.”
“I was just going to tell you—the phone company wants a subpoena for Nick’s phone.”
“Tell them to call him. He’ll authorize it, for Christ’s sake.”
Freddie scowled at her use of the Lord’s name. “Should I show Patricia in?”
Sam moaned. “If you must…”
A well-dressed blonde came through the door a minute later, looking nervous and out of place. “Thank you so much for seeing me, Lieutenant.”
“Of course. Please, have a seat.”
She perched on the chair on the other side of Sam’s desk. “I understand you were the detective in charge of John’s case.”
“I was, yes.”
“I wanted to thank you for moving so quickly to get justice for him, even if I wish justice had led in a direction other than my son.”
“Ms. Donaldson…”
She fiddled with a tissue she produced from her purse. “It’s just, I wondered…you’re absolutely certain that it was my Thomas who killed his father?”
Oh God, Sam thought. God, God, God.
“They were always so close, and I’m having trouble imagining that my son could’ve done these horrible things he’s accused of. I figured you’d tell me the truth. I don’t know who to believe anymore.”
“I’m absolutely certain it was Thomas,” Sam said. “I’m sorry if that’s not what you want to hear, but the evidence is irrefutable. In addition to the evidence, he confessed in front of me as well as Senators O’Connor and Cappuano. I’m afraid the case against him is solid.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “He must’ve had some sort of breakdown and didn’t know what he was doing. The boy I raised would never hurt anyone, let alone his father or those other people he didn’t even know.” Two of his father’s ex-lovers and the husband of one of them had been among Thomas’s victims.
“I’m sure his attorney will take that under consideration,” Sam said, desperately wanting to end this excruciating interview. “Hearing that his father had been unfaithful to you did something to him.”
“They’re considering an insanity plea, as you must already know.”
“I’ve heard that.”
“I’m sorry to have taken up your time. I was just looking for some answers.”
“I wish I could’ve been more helpful.” As she said the words, another thought occurred to Sam. “I know someone you could talk to who might understand what you’re going through.”
Patricia’s eyes brightened with hope. “Who?”
“Laine O’Connor.”
Patricia’s hope was quickly replaced by despair. “She won’t want to talk to me. They think I ruined John’s life by getting pregnant. I’m sure they blame me for his death too.”
“They don’t,” Sam assured her. “If anything, they blame themselves for forcing John to live a double life. I’ve come to know them quite well in the last few months, and I’m fairly confident Laine would welcome
the chance to make amends with you.” At least Sam hoped so. She was dallying in areas she probably had no business butting into. The bad blood between the O’Connors and Patricia went back decades. “Would you like me to call her for you?”
“If you’re sure she won’t mind,” Patricia said.
“I’m sure she won’t.”
Chapter 22
“That was a good thing you did back there,” Freddie said when they were in the car.
“Huh?”
“Hooking Patricia up with Laine—two grieving mothers, two women who loved John O’Connor. It was a good thing.”
“I hope so,” Sam said. “I’m half expecting a ‘what the hell were you thinking’ phone call from Nick.”
“Nah.” Freddie bit into one of the three cream donuts he’d bought from the roach coach outside HQ. “He’ll approve. In fact, I hate to say it, L.T., but you’re becoming sensitive in your old age. Being in love has softened you.”
“Screw you.”
He chortled with laughter and then downed a second donut.
Sam’s mouth watered at the smell of sugar and cream. “If you’re done stuffing your face, tell me what we know about Bradford Tillinghast.”
“He’s a lobbyist with the firm Tillinghast-Young. They represent oil company interests to Congress.”
“And what was his number doing on the cell phone records for both our dead cleaning ladies?”
“A very good question indeed.”
Sam smiled. “I have a feeling this interview is gonna make my day.” Sensitive. Whatever. She loved nothing more than watching smug, powerful people—or people who thought they were powerful—come unglued when they became the subject of a murder investigation.
“What about our plan to talk to Senator Trent first thing?” Freddie asked.
“We’ll get to him. Eventually. Gonna be a long-ass day.”
At the well-appointed K Street offices of Tillinghast-Young, Sam and Freddie were told that Mr. Tillinghast was in a meeting and couldn’t be disturbed.
“I love that answer,” Sam said to Freddie. “Don’t you love that answer?”
“It’s one of my favorites,” he said.
