06 Fatal Mistake (5 page)

“What’s that?”

Even though it went against her nature to be forthcoming with potentially troublesome information, she’d learned the hard way to be truthful with her husband. It saved her a shitload of aggravation where he was concerned. “Hill has been promoted to agent in charge of criminal investigations. He’s moved to D.C. permanently. He grew up with the Feds’ owner, Ray Jestings, so we’ll be calling on him for assistance with the investigation. I wanted to be upfront with you about his involvement, so there’s no trouble between us over it.”

Nick’s expression never changed, but his lips tightened, a sure sign that he was annoyed.

When they arrived at HQ, the agents brought the SUV to a stop outside the main entrance. “Thanks for telling me about Hill.” He looked over at her, slaying her with those amazing hazel eyes that saw right through her. “You’ve come a long way, babe.”

“What does that mean?”

“Not that long ago, you would’ve kept that tidbit to yourself and hoped I wouldn’t find out you were working with him again. While I wish he’d go away and never come back, I’m glad you told me yourself.”

“Even an old dog like me can learn a few new tricks. I can be trained.”

Rolling his eyes, he let out a guffaw of laughter. “You? Trained? That’ll be the day.” He leaned over to leave her with a kiss. “I love you.”

She patted his face and kissed him back, even though they were outside HQ and inside her no-PDA-zone. The tinted windows on the SUV preserved their privacy. “Love you too. I’ll see you when I see you. Take good care of our kid later. He’s going to need a shoulder.”

“He’ll have both of mine for as long as he needs them.”

“He’s a lucky boy.”

“I’m the lucky one. Be careful. Watch your back.”

“I will. Don’t worry.”

“What? Me worry? Go to work, babe.”

Even after almost a year together, she still hated to leave him. But she had a job to do, and so did he, so she got out of the car and waved as the SUV sped off toward the Capitol.

Chapter Five

Sam headed for the main doors at HQ, through the courtyard that would be mobbed with reporters once the word got out about Willie.

She was holding a mock news conference in her head, thinking about how she might approach the press without igniting another riot, when she smacked into a hard wall of white chest that sported a gold badge. Shit.

“In my office, Lieutenant. Right now.”

Sam let out a huff of aggravation as she followed the chief to his suite, which was located behind the dispatch area.

The chief’s receptionist gave Sam a sympathetic smile when she passed the desk, which only made Sam more anxious about the reaming she was in for.

He stood at the door, stone-faced as she walked past him.

The slam of the door behind her made her startle.

“What part of ‘don’t step foot outside this building without me knowing about it’ did you not understand, Lieutenant?”

“I looked for you. I couldn’t find you.”

“Since I was here all night, I’d say you didn’t look very hard.”

“I didn’t want to bother you with something I could easily handle.”

“Which is how you ended up in a Dumpster with a dead body.”

“Yes. It’s Willie Vasquez. The body, that is.”

His face went blank for a second before he recovered his mojo. “You’re kidding me.”

“Wish I was.”

“Ah, God.” All at once he looked exhausted and every bit his sixty-plus years. “We just got things under control, and now this.”

“My first stop will be his home, followed by the ballpark to speak to the team leadership.”

“I don’t want you on this one, Sam. Assign it to one of your people.”

“Sir, with all due respect—”

“I said assign it to someone else.”

“And what am I supposed to do? Sit in the office and twiddle my thumbs?”

“There’s plenty you can do without being on the street.”

“You know that’s not true. There’s no way I can run an investigation of this magnitude without being out there doing what I do.”

He went around his desk and sat down, seeming as if the weight of the world rested on his formidable shoulders.

“You know I can take care of myself, Uncle Joe,” she said this softly, using her old name for him for the first time since she’d been under his command.

“Something’s always happening to you.”

“And yet here I am, still providing a daily pain in your ass.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. You know that.”

Their rare foray into sentiment was no doubt due to the long night they’d both put in, but Sam wasn’t above using it to her advantage. “I also know you care about me, and I appreciate that. But you’ve got to let me do my job. I’m the most qualified detective to handle a case like this. You know that as well as I do.”

Watching him as he weighed the decision, she noticed he’d aged since she’d last looked closely. When had that happened? The observation left her strangely unsettled. Men like her dad and Uncle Joe were supposed to stay forever young and live for as long as she needed them, which was always.

“I don’t think I’ve ever told you that Marti and I weren’t able to have kids of our own,” he said, further startling her. “We had you and your sisters, our nieces and nephews... You all were our kids. I think we’ve done a good job, you and me, of navigating the personal as we deal with the professional. But if you think it’s ever easy for me to send you out into harm’s way, you don’t know me at all, Sam. Someone threatened one of my officers, but they also threatened one of my kids—one of my favorite kids. Don’t forget that.”

She stared at him, astounded and moved and uncertain of what she should say, which didn’t happen very often. “I... I won’t forget. I won’t ever forget.”

“See that you don’t.” He combed his fingers through wiry gray hair in a gesture filled with exhaustion and resignation. “Run Vasquez, report directly to me, watch your back and don’t take any foolish chances, you got me?”

“Yes, sir.”

Because of what he’d said, because he’d been her Uncle Joe a lot longer than he’d been her chief, because she loved him, she went around the desk, put her hands on his shoulders and kissed his cheek. “I love you too.”

As she walked toward the door, he said, “I never said I loved you.” His gruff tone was more in keeping with what she’d come to expect from him.

“You didn’t have to.” She smiled all the way back to the pit.

* * *

Ready to do battle on Willie’s behalf, Sam strolled into the pit to find it empty except for Cruz, who was sprawled out in his office chair, sound asleep. Was there something wrong with her that she took perverse pleasure in booting the chair and sending him flying into the wall of his cubicle? The look on his face when he came to and realized she’d caught him asleep in the pit was priceless.

“Up and at ’em, Sleeping Beauty. We’ve got work to do.”

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Where is everyone?”

“Home sleeping if they’re smart.”

“Aren’t you the lucky one to be teamed up with the LT?”

“The luck never ends. Don’t you need sleep like the rest of us mere mortals?”

“I’ll have lots of time to sleep when I’m dead. In the meantime, let’s hit the morgue.”

“If I’m going to be expected to work twenty-four hours straight, I need food. Real food. Not sprouts and weeds and that crap you consider food.”

He needed a hit of grease to restore his equilibrium. Since she needed him performing at top capacity, she decided to indulge him. “I’ll feed you after we hit the morgue.”

“That ought to do wonders for my appetite.”

In the morgue, they found Lindsey working on Willie’s autopsy, assisted by her deputy, Dr. Byron Tomlinson.

“Give me something, give me anything,” Sam said as she strolled into the examination room with Cruz in tow. He took one glance at the Y-shaped cut in Willie’s chest and looked away.

“So far all I can tell you is we’re looking at a single stab wound to the chest that severed his aorta,” Lindsey said.

“Look at the angle.” Byron pointed to the wound. “Judging by the angle of entry, my guess is the perp is a lefty.”

“Could they have come at him from behind?” Sam asked.

“Not likely,” Lindsey said. “I’m thinking it was a seven-to-nine-inch blade. They wouldn’t have been able to get the angle needed to reach the aorta from behind. I’m leaning toward a front-facing attack, a one-shot deal that took him out very quickly.”

“And it would’ve made a big mess,” Byron added. “The aorta blowing would’ve been like a geyser when the knife was pulled from his chest.”

“Let’s hope CSU gets us a murder weapon.” Sam reached for her phone to place a call to the patrol lieutenant, then cursed under her breath when she got his voice mail.

“That would help,” Lindsey agreed. “We’re running toxicology and other labs now. We’ll let you know if we get any hits.”

“Thanks, Doc. We’re on the street, so hit my cell.”

“I thought you were grounded,” Lindsey said.

“Not anymore.”

Chuckling and shaking her head, Lindsey gave her a thumbs-up. “I don’t know how you do it, Holland.”

“Charm, Doc. It’s all charm.”

Cruz snorted loudly as he followed her from the morgue, earning him a glare. “Something wrong with your nose?”

“Nothing a little sleep wouldn’t fix.”

“Don’t act like you’d sleep if I sent you home.” He and his girlfriend Elin spent half their lives screwing like bunnies, or so it seemed as he showed up sleepy and dopey-looking to every crime scene, no matter what time of day or night.

“I’d sleep.” He gave her the slow, lazy grin that drove the girls crazy—other girls, of course. Not her. “After.”

“Ewww. Spare me the details and drive me to Georgetown.”

“What’s in Georgetown?”

“Willie’s condo.”

“You promised there’d be food.”

“And there will be. Soon. We have to notify the family, and I can’t do that on a full stomach.”

“Right. Me either.”

He understood. There was nothing either of them hated more than having to tell people their loved ones had been murdered.

“What’s the address?” he asked as he drove her car out of the parking lot.

Sam consulted her notebook where she’d jotted down the details from the license in Willie’s wallet. “3032 K Street, Northwest. What did you do with Willie’s wallet?”

“Inventoried and photocopied everything and locked the wallet with the cash in the evidence locker.”

“Good. Get Gonzo on the phone.”

“Anything else you want me to do while I’m driving you around, your highness?”

“That’ll do for now, but thanks for asking.”

He grunted out a laugh and had Gonzo on speaker half a minute later.

“Speak to me,” Sam said. “What’ve you got?”

“You gotta stop calling me on Cruz’s phone. You’re freaking me out.”

Despite the horrible errand they were headed to do, Sam flashed a big smile in Freddie’s direction.

“You make her day when you say that stuff,” Cruz told his friend.

“I can only imagine.”

“Where are you right now?” she asked.

“Almost to HQ.”

“Ask Malone to figure out who owns the cameras in the area behind Air and Space and adjacent locations. I’m assuming they belong to the Smithsonian, not us, so we need to get warrants. I want as much film as we can get from the ballpark too. Especially the players’ parking lot and anything you can get from the Potomac Avenue area.”

“Got it. Will do.”

“Gimme what you’ve got on Vasquez.”

“Pulling over so I can refer to the notes.” Less than a minute later, he said, “Born in Santo Domingo in the Dominican Republic on February 10, 1985. Parents are Carlos and Belinda Vasquez. Willie was a standout baseball player from the time he was a child and was drafted right out of high school by the San Diego Padres. He bounced around several National League teams before being picked up by the Feds at the trade deadline during their inaugural season in 2010. Since joining the Feds he’s come into his own, hitting .325 in 2010 and .327 in 2011. This season has been his best so far with 42 home runs, 102 runs batted in and 162 hits. He was a two-time All Star and by all accounts most likely a future Hall of Famer.”

Sam took notes as Gonzo rattled off Willie’s accomplishments on the field.

“Married for five years to Carmen Peña Vasquez. Two kids—Miguel, age four, and Jose, age two.”

“Shit,” Sam muttered, noting that Freddie gripped the wheel a little tighter.

“Yeah. Sucks big-time.”

“Financials?”

“Not yet. A lot of his accounts were in the Dominican Republic. I’ve left messages.”

“What’re they saying on the radio?” Sam asked.

“People are extremely pissed. The guys on WFBR, the Feds’ radio station, are really fanning the fire.”

“We’ll have to pay them a visit at some point.”

“I can do that if you’d like.”

“That’d help. Work it until sixteen thirty and call it a day. Meet up at HQ at zero seven hundred.”

“Will do. I’ll let you know what I find out. Um, Lieutenant, could I speak to you about something unrelated to the case?”

“Sure.”

“Off the speaker, if you don’t mind. No offense, Cruz.”

“None taken.” Freddie fiddled with his phone and handed it to her.

“What’s up?”

“I wanted to let you know that I might need some time off in the next couple of weeks. The situation with Alex’s mother looks to be heading to court.” He filled her in on the latest developments.

“I’m sorry, Gonzo. That sucks.”

“Yeah. I haven’t said too much to Christina about it yet because of the campaign and how busy she’s been, so I’d appreciate it if you kept it quiet for now.”

She got that he was asking her not to tell Nick, in particular. “I understand. Let me know if I can do anything to help.”

“I might need some character witnesses, beginning with a decorated police lieutenant and her senator husband.”

“Whatever we can do. You only have to ask.”

“Thanks. It’s okay to tell Cruz what’s going on. I can use all the support I can get, but I wanted to let you know about the time off.”

“I’ll tell him, and don’t worry about the time. We’ll cover for you.”

“Thanks, Sam. I’ll get back to you after I hit the radio station.”

“Talk to you then.”

She handed the phone to Freddie.

“Everything okay?”

“He said I could tell you that he’s heading into what could be an ugly custody battle with Alex’s mother.”

“Oh, crap. Can she do that? Show up months later and stake a claim?”

“She’s his mother, and from what Gonzo said she’s apparently gone to great lengths to clean up her act.”

“He must be freaking out.”

“Just a little, and he’s not saying much about it to Christina until after the election.”

“I won’t say anything to anyone. Don’t worry.”

“You could say something to him. He’s going to need his friends.”

“I will.” He drove the car into the parking lot and flashed his badge at the security guard. “Detective Cruz and Lieutenant Holland to see Mrs. Vasquez.”

“What’s this in reference to?”

“It’s personal.”

The guard studied both their badges before returning them to Freddie. “You’re that cop who’s married to the senator.”

“Really? I didn’t know that. Let us in. Now.”

“No need to be cranky about it. You’ll be met in the lobby by a member of security and escorted to the Vasquez residence.”

“Excellent.”

Freddie put up the window and waited for the security arm to rise before he drove on.

“I wasn’t being cranky.”

“You’re never cranky.”

“Why do people think I need to be told who I’m married to?”

“Because they’re afraid you might forget?”

“That’s always a possibility, I suppose.”

The banter helped to keep their minds off the dreadful task that awaited them inside. He pulled into a visitor parking space and cut the engine but made no move to get out of the car.

“I hate this,” he said.

“I do too, but sitting here another five minutes isn’t going to make it any easier. Let’s get it over with and get back to figuring out what happened.”