by Marie Force
Since the District wasn’t a state, there was no state police to lead the investigation, so the Feds had been called in by the mayor. On the plus side, Sam trusted Avery Hill to oversee a fair process.
She grabbed her notebook and pen and headed for the conference room attached to the chief’s suite of offices. The office next to the chief’s that had once belonged to Conklin was now dark and the door closed. A fresh wave of grief assailed Sam when she recalled her father occupying the deputy chief’s office, next door to his best friend, Joe Farnsworth.
Grief was such a weird thing, attacking as it did out of nowhere, on a perfectly ordinary Monday morning, nearly five years since that office had belonged to her dad. She stood in the hallway staring at the closed door, the buzz of voices from the conference room in the background.
“Sam.”
She blinked and turned to look up at the chief, the man she’d called Uncle Joe as a child.
“Are you all right?”
“I, ah… Yeah. I’m fine.”
“I still look for him in there too. Even when Conklin was deputy, I’d walk in there expecting to find Skip.”
“It was such an inconvenience to me that he was deputy chief.” Sam offered him a small smile as she recalled the early days of her career. “Everyone assumed I got special treatment because he was my father, when he actually went out of his way to avoid anything that smacked of favoritism toward me.”
“He always held you to a higher standard than anyone else.”
“Believe me, I know. And then I’d walk into O’Leary’s to meet him for a beer after work, and he’d hug me and kiss me and call me ‘baby girl’ in front of the guys. I wanted to stab him.” As she laughed at the memory, her eyes filled with tears that she refused to allow at work. She blinked them away and took a deep breath, determined to push through the way she always did, even when her heart was broken.
“He loved you so much and was so damned proud of you.” He kept his voice low so they couldn’t be overheard. “That goes for both of us.”
“Means a lot. Thank you—and P.S., back atcha.”
He glanced at the conference room. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”
“Yes, please. I’ve got a new vic that needs me.”
“Heard about that. The woman who scammed her friends and family.”
“Yep, and left me with nearly five hundred people with motive, not to mention their families and friends. Good times.”
“I have no doubt you’ll get to the bottom of it.”
“We shall see. Please make this ordeal as short as possible.”
“Wish I could, but it’s not my meeting.” His gaze shifted to Avery Hill as he approached them. “Morning, Agent Hill.”
“Chief, Lieutenant, how are you this morning?”
“We’ll be better after this meeting,” Sam said.
Avery laughed, which made the handsome devil even more so. “Duly noted. Shall we?”
Chapter Six
Avery gestured for them to precede him into the conference room, where the other division commanders and department leadership had already gathered, along with Avery’s deputy, George Terrell.
Sam’s direct supervisor, Detective Captain Jake Malone, came rushing in, apologizing for being late, even though he wasn’t late.
Sam took a seat at the far end of the room, tucking herself into a corner so she could observe without being observed. All the cases they were here to discuss involved her in some way or another, and the last freaking thing she wanted was anyone checking her reactions.
Speaking of handsome devils, Lieutenant Archelotta, head of IT, caught her eye and lifted his chin, offering silent support that Sam appreciated from the only other officer she’d ever dated after her marriage to Peter shit the bed. Although, calling what she’d done with Archie “dating” was a stretch. Mostly, they’d had sex, but that was ancient history now that she was happily married to Nick. Archie remained a valued friend and trusted colleague.
“Thank you all for being here.” Avery stood at the head of the long table around which the MPD’s top brass had gathered. “I understand and appreciate this is an intrusive and unwelcome process. It won’t be quick or painless, but our goal is to make it as efficient as possible for all of you while providing the public with an accounting of what happened, who was involved and where we go from here. A few ground rules. First, we expect you to make yourself and your officers available to us as needed. Second, we expect you and the others on your team to be truthful with us. This will go a lot faster if we’re all on the side of getting to the truth. If we later prove that members of this department lied to us, we’ll file charges.”
Sam noticed no one was looking at Avery as he spoke. Rather, everyone focused on the table or their own hands or some other random thing. It never came naturally to police officers to be investigated, but recent events had led to this day of reckoning that was sure to impact them all in some way.
Avery went through the list of interviews they planned to conduct. Homicide was far enough down the list that she shouldn’t have to worry about the Feds for a few days, which was good. She had better things to do, with Ginny McLeod’s murder to investigate.
After reviewing the schedule, Avery asked if there were questions.
Captain Roback from Vice raised his hand. “I’d like to know why we need this when we know who the criminals are, and all of them have been charged and put into the system.”
“If I may?” the chief said.
Avery gestured for him to go ahead. “I hear what you’re saying, Captain Roback, and at first, I felt the same way. In my mind, we’ve done a good job policing our own team and weeding out the people who don’t belong here. But if there’re others, I want to know who they are, and I want them gone before they can further sully the reputation of this department. We all know there are more hardworking, dedicated officers in this department than there are criminals. I welcome this investigation and fully support it. I expect all of you to do the same.”
“Thank you, Chief,” Avery said. “Any other questions?”
When there were none, he thanked them for attending the meeting. “We’ll be in touch with each of you over the next few weeks.”
That wasn’t bad, Sam thought as she hung back, waiting for the others to leave the room before her. Fourteen minutes. She was on her way to the pit when someone called her name from the lobby. Turning, she was shocked to find Lenore Worthington, the stunning Black woman Sam had met during her first year in Patrol when she’d responded to a call for help and found Lenore’s son, Calvin, shot to death outside their Southeast home.
Sam walked toward Lenore and hugged her. “It’s so nice to see you.”
“You too. I’m sorry about your dad.”
“Thank you. You look gorgeous, as always.” Lenore was always dressed to the nines, her nails done and her makeup perfectly applied. Sam recalled feeling like a slouch next to Lenore when she’d first known her.
“You’re too kind.”
“How’ve you been?” Sam asked.
“Oh, you know…” Lenore shrugged. “It’s been almost fifteen years, but it doesn’t ever get any easier. Calvin would’ve been thirty next month, which is so hard to believe. I have trouble picturing him as a thirty-year-old. He’s frozen forever at fifteen.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Do you have a minute?”
She didn’t, but she’d make time. Sam had never forgotten Calvin Worthington or his mother’s gut-wrenching grief. “Come on in.” She led the way to her office in the pit and gestured for Lenore to go ahead of her.
When Freddie caught her eye, his brow lifted in inquiry. Sam raised her index finger to let him know she needed only a minute, and then they’d hit the streets.
“Have a seat.” Sam went around to sit behind her desk. “What can I do for you?”
“I read about how you solved your dad’s case after almost four years, and I know fifteen is a lot longer, but
I wondered if maybe you might be willing to take another look at Calvin’s case. There were so many things that didn’t make sense, and I just thought that you…” Her voice broke, and she looked down. “I’ve followed your career. I know you’re the best.” She looked up at Sam, her chin quivering. “Doesn’t my Calvin deserve the best?”
Sam swallowed the lump in her throat. She’d thought of Calvin often over the years. When he’d been killed, he was just two years older than Scotty was now. “He does. Of course he does.”
Lenore’s eyes brightened with hope. “So you’ll look at it?”
“I’ll mention it to my commanders and ask if we can put some people on it. It’ll completely depend on what they say. If it were up to me, I’d do it in a second, but it’s not.”
“I understand,” she said with a sigh. “I appreciate anything you can do. You were always so kind to me and my family, and it meant a lot to us. Even if there’s nothing you can do, we won’t forget that.”
Sam had stayed with Lenore, her mother and daughter for two hours while they waited for the medical examiner to arrive. She’d made herself available to them in the days that followed and had spoken with Lenore several times over the years at events for victims. “I’m starting a new grief group for people who’ve lost loved ones to violent crime. I think it would mean a lot to people starting out on this journey to have your voice in that group. It would mean a lot to me.”
“Tell me when and where, and I’ll be there.”
Sam handed her a flyer Dr. Trulo had made that included the details of the grief group’s first meeting.
“Thank you.”
“I’ll consult with my command about a fresh look at Calvin’s case and let you know. Is your number the same?”
She nodded. “It’ll never change until I get the call that they’ve found my baby’s killer. I’d be afraid to miss that call.”
“I’ll get back to you. It may not be this week, but as soon as I can.”
“I’ll look forward to hearing from you, and I’ll be at the grief group.”
“It was good to see you, Lenore.”
“You too. I was so, so happy to read that you’d nailed the guys who shot your dad.”
“Thank you. It was a relief to finally know, even if the answers were shocking.”
Lenore stood to leave. “I can only imagine. But at least now you know.”
“Yes, we do. I’ll be in touch.”
“Thank you for your time.”
A minute after Lenore left the office, Freddie appeared in the doorway. “What was that about?”
“A homicide from my first year on the job. I was in Patrol, took the call for a shooting in Southeast. Calvin, a fifteen-year-old, was already dead in the driveway when I got there. That was his mother.”
“Oh, wow. Did you remember her?”
Sam nodded. “I’ve never forgotten her.”
“Did we get whoever did it?”
Sam shook her head. “The case was never closed. That’s why she was here. She heard we closed my dad’s case and wondered if we might take another look at Calvin’s.”
“What’d you tell her?”
“That I’ll run it up the pole, which I will.” She stood, gathered her keys, phone and notebook and put on her coat. “Let’s hit it.” As they walked toward the morgue, Sam said, “Talk to me about Haverson.”
“He’s the president of a community bank in Bethesda.”
Sam groaned. “So we have to drive to freaking Bethesda?”
“We do.”
“Why did I know you were going to say that?” Sam asked, resigned to an hour in the car. Nothing chapped her ass more than wasting time. Well, receptionists chapped her too. And needles. And flying. Her ass was chapped a lot, if she were being honest. And what did that even mean? Chapped the ass. She huffed out a laugh at the direction her thoughts had taken.
“Do I dare ask what’s so funny?”
“I’m thinking about things that chap my ass.”
“I withdraw the question due to lack of interest in the things that chap your ass, or anything involving your ass.”
“I have a very fine ass. Just ask Nick.”
“Stop it right now.”
Sam cracked up laughing at his testy tone. She loved nothing more than to drive him crazy any way she could. When they were in the car, she said, “Tell me more about Mr. Haverson.”
“He’s fifty-four, married with three college-aged kids. Lives in Gaithersburg.”
“How did he know Ginny McLeod?”
“I’m still trying to figure that out. I did a deep dive on her social media accounts but didn’t see anything connecting her to him. That’s at the top of my list of questions for him.”
“So you have a list of questions. That’s good. One of us should.”
He shook his head and released a long-suffering sigh. “You’re lucky you have me around to make you look good.”
“Indeed, and I know it. Cam is making me look pretty good lately too. He did a shit ton of work yesterday that saved me from being up all night, which saves you from dealing with Cranky Sam today.”
“Thank God for that. He’s one of the best detectives I’ve ever worked with. I learn from him every day.”
“Not as much as you learn from me, though, because if you say it’s more, we’re done.”
“You continue to amaze and inspire me on a daily basis, Lieutenant.”
“Are you being sarcastic? It pisses me off when I can’t tell for sure.”
That made him laugh—hard. “I like to keep you on your toes.”
It took more than an hour to get to Bethesda, by which time Sam was on the verge of full-on rage at the waste of valuable time. “I’m ready for George Jetson travel anytime now.”
“You’d be a psycho in one of those flying cars.”
“People would get the hell out of my way. I should’ve used the lights.” She tended to save them for actual emergencies, and last she checked, her time being wasted wasn’t an actual emergency to anyone but her.
Inside the First National Bank and Trust on Arlington Road, Sam was greeted by one of her favorite things—a receptionist. Even better, this one did a double take when she recognized Sam.
“Mrs. Cappuano,” she said, practically sputtering. “Welcome. What can I do for you?”
Sam flashed her badge to remind the woman what Mrs. Cappuano did for a living. “I need to see Mr. Haverson, please.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
That was one of Sam’s favorite questions. “Nope. What I do have is a dead body and a homicide investigation. Tell him I’m here, and I’d like to speak to him.”
Her eyes went wide as she got up to see to Sam’s directive.
“I like when people do what I tell them to.”
“I like when they ask the appointment question. In my head, I’m counting down. Five, four, three, two…”
Sam laughed to herself at what an absolutely perfect partner he was, not that she could ever let him know that. He was already borderline unmanageable.
The receptionist returned a minute later with a gray-haired man wearing a dark suit and a scowl on his face. “What do you need?”
“Lieutenant Holland, Detective Cruz, Metro PD. We need a minute of your time. Either here or at our place. Your choice.” No one ever chose their place, which was a crying shame. She loved nothing more than taking smug, entitled people into custody and didn’t get to do it nearly often enough. “What’s it going to be?”
“Come in.”
Figured you’d say that.
Sam and Freddie followed him past cubicles of workers who reacted with surprise when they recognized her. Haverson’s spacious office in the back had glass walls so he could see the goings-on in all corners of his little kingdom.
Freddie closed the door, and they both sat in the visitor chairs while Haverson settled behind his desk.
Sam glanced at Freddie and lifted her chin to tell him to get things started.
“How do you know Ginny McLeod?” Freddie took the baton and ran with it the way she’d taught him.
Haverson grimaced ever so slightly at the mention of Ginny’s name. “She was my wife’s high school classmate. They were close all through school and after. She and her husband were our friends.”
“Were. Past tense.”
“Hell yes, past tense. She ruined my life.”
“How so?” Sam asked, wanting to hear the story in his words.
He stared at Sam as if he couldn’t believe she was actually asking that question. “She stole more than two hundred thousand dollars from us.”
“How did she do that?” Sam asked.
Continuing with the stare, he said, “Surely you’ve taken the time to review the details of her scam before you came to my place of business to interrogate me. It’s all in the FBI reports.”
“Mr. Haverson, I’m not appreciating your tone. We have a murder victim, which gives us the right to ask any questions we see fit.”
“Good luck finding anyone who cares that she’s dead. You’ll have a long line of people celebrating her demise.”
“Including you?”
“Fuck, yes. I’m glad she’s dead. Did I kill her? No, but I’m glad someone else did. She had it coming.”
“No one has murder coming,” Sam said.
“They do when they steal someone’s life savings so they’ll never be able to retire or help their kids through college. People like her deserve anything and everything they get.”
“We’ll have to agree to disagree on whether anyone deserves to be murdered. Tell me how the money was transferred. I can read the reports, but I’d prefer to hear it from you.”
Seeming to realize he was going to have to tell her what she wanted to know, he began to speak in a tightly controlled tone that seemed almost practiced, as if it was something he’d taught himself to get through the retelling of this story.
