Fatal Identity (24 page)

“How could you be?”

“As much as I'm worried about Gonzo, I've got my eyes on the rest of my squad too. After something like this, it's not unusual for people to decide it's not worth the potential sacrifice.”

“You picking up any vibes?”

“Here and there. Nothing solid. Not yet anyway.”

“I have every faith that if anyone can get them through this, you can.”

“That's nice of you to say, but I'm fumbling my way through it just like they are. First time I've lost someone close to me on the job, and it's hard.”

“It will be for a while.”

“So we're told by the counselors they've sent to talk to us. I'm also under pressure to fill the spot that's now open in my squad, but it feels too soon to be talking about that.”

“You'll know when the time is right.”

“I guess.” Eager to change the subject, she pointed. “That's the house.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

A
S
THEY
CROSSED
the street, Sam took a call from Nick. “Hey, what's up?”

“I just got a visit from Derek Kavanaugh,” he said of their close friend, who was also deputy chief of staff to the president.

“How are Derek and Maeve?”

“They're good, but this wasn't a social call. Apparently, the Oval is in full panic mode over Hamilton's murder, and the White House press corps is foaming at the mouth. The president's staff wants information, and they want it now.”

“Don't we all,” Sam said with a sigh. “So they put Derek up to asking you to pump me for information.”

“Something like that.”

“You can tell them we're working the case and making progress. That's all I've got for right now.”

“I had a feeling you'd say that, so that's what I told him. I also might've mentioned that I resent being used for my connection to you.”

Sam smiled. “Good.”

“I guess Nelson is also furious that the Feds aren't running the investigation, even though the AG has explained about conflict of interest and jurisdiction.”

“You can tell him the Feds don't have jurisdiction for the same reason they didn't have it when John was killed at the Watergate.” The murder of Nick's boss and best friend, Senator John O'Connor, had brought Nick back into her life six years after she first met him. “Our city, our case.”

“I'll pass that along. How's it going there?”

“Slow but good. We found some people who knew the Hamiltons when they lived here. Got some insight, but nothing huge yet. More like pieces in the puzzle.”

“You'll put the picture together, babe. You always do.”

“I hope you're right. Call you later?”

“I'll be waiting. Love you.”

“Um, you too.”

He was laughing when he ended the call, and Sam immediately felt bad for not saying it back to him. After a year of marriage, she was still navigating the work-home dynamic, and telling her husband she loved him in front of a colleague, especially this particular colleague, was a challenge for her. Maybe she should make saying it any time she damned well wanted to a goal for year two.

“The White House is unglued over Hamilton's murder,” Sam said.

“You can see why they would be.”

“They're also screaming about jurisdiction when we all know that's a nonstarter.”

“You can't blame them for trying.”

“Sure I can,” she said with a cheeky grin.

Sam and Avery approached a yellow ranch house with a well-kept yard and mulched flower beds that were dormant now but would probably be extraordinary in the spring and summer. Avery rang the doorbell.

A woman in her mid to late fifties came to the door. She was petite with short dark hair and a friendly, if wary, smile.

They held up their badges. “Special Agent Avery Hill, FBI, Lieutenant Holland, Metro D.C. Police. Could we please have a moment of your time?”

She did a double take when she heard Sam's name.
“You're the second lady!”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Oh my goodness! Come in. Please!”

Sam rolled her eyes at the grin Avery sent her way. It was too much to hope that she'd go unrecognized twice.

“What an honor to have you here! My husband and I are huge fans of your husband. We hope he goes all the way.”

It was on the tip of Sam's tongue to say he goes all the way quite regularly, but she kept the thought private. “Thank you.”

“And what you did at the parade! Oh my Lord! You're like a superhero!”

As the woman went on and on, Sam began to sweat while Avery became more amused.

Sam cleared her throat. “So the reason we're here—”

“Where are my manners? Can I offer you something? Some coffee or tea or iced tea or
anything
?”

“We're fine, thank you,” Sam said as Avery said, “Some coffee would be wonderful.”

She wanted to stab him through the heart with her famous rusty steak knife. The bastard was enjoying this far too much.

“Coming right up! My friends are never going to believe this! Can we take pictures while you're here? If we don't take pictures, everyone will think I made it up!”

“We'd be happy to do that,” Avery said, pouring on the Southern charm.

Squealing, she went into the kitchen to make his coffee while Sam stared daggers at him.
“Really?”

“Sorry. This has been such a shit day. I couldn't resist some comic relief.”

“At my expense.”

“I'm very sorry about that.”

“No, you're not!”

“My apologies.”

Nancy returned with a tray containing coffee for both of them, a plate of delicate cucumber sandwiches and lemon cookies that looked homemade. Was there anything quite like Southern hospitality? Because she knew it would mean the world to this very nice woman, Sam poured some cream into her coffee and took two of the tiny sandwiches.

“I wish I'd known you were coming. I would've made something better.”

“This is very nice of you,” Avery said. “Now about the reason we're here. You were friends with Courtney Hamilton while she lived here in Knoxville?”

“Yes, I was, and I'm devastated for her today. Troy was such a lovely man, and they were a beautiful family. My David and I had so many good times with them. Our children were roughly the same ages, and we spent many a weekend night playing cards and having a few drinks while the kids played. Those were good times.”

“Did Courtney confide in you when things between her and Troy began to fall apart?” Sam asked.

“She did,” Nancy said. “She was heartbroken over it, and she struggled with the decision to leave.”

“Did she say why they were having problems?” Avery asked.

“She never came right out and said it, but I got the feeling that one of them might've had an affair. Now mind you, I couldn't figure out when either of them would've had the time. They were so busy with work and the kids and the house and all the stuff young parents deal with. David and I speculated endlessly about what might be going on, but we never did know for sure. It's further proof that the only two people who truly know what goes on in a marriage are the two people in it.”

Wasn't that the truth
. “When they lived here and you were socializing with them,” Sam said, “did you ever meet his colleague Dustin Jacoby?”

Seeming startled by the question, Avery shot her a look.

“I met him a couple of times. They ran around together, and he joined us for cards sometimes. Dustin was single, and I got the feeling that they were like his family away from home. They did holidays together, that kind of thing. She joked about them being her two husbands.”

Sam's skin tingled with the sensation she often got when she was on to something in an investigation, but this time her ears were buzzing too, which was odd.

“Was there ever any sense of something more than friendship between either of the Hamiltons and Dustin?” Sam asked.

“I don't think we need to go there,” Avery said, scowling at her.

“Not that I ever saw,” Nancy said. “They were the best of friends.”

“This has been very helpful,” Avery said. “Thank you for your time.”

Nancy whipped out her phone. “How about a photo?”

Sam wanted to run for her life, but she smiled and nodded. “Sure.”

Avery seemed to take great pleasure in dragging it out, taking multiple shots until he got one he was happy with.

“I will treasure this always,” Nancy said, hugging Sam.

Trying not to bristle, Sam said, “Um, thank you.” She couldn't get out of there fast enough.

“Why are you dragging Jacoby into this?” Avery asked the second the door closed behind them. “We've got nothing to tie him to any of this.”

“Except for the fact that he's gone missing at the same exact time his boss was murdered and his boss's kidnapped son was kidnapped again. There's nothing curious about that to you?”

“It's far more likely that Jacoby is a
victim
in this than a perp.”

“You say that with such certainty. The same certainty you had that there was
no way
Hamilton could possibly be involved with a baby's abduction. Remember that? Your exact words were
no way
, and now the DNA says
yes way
.”

“I know what the DNA says. I still say Hamilton didn't know that baby was Taylor.”

“And I call
bullshit
on him not knowing. He was involved in the investigation. How could he
not
know?” All of a sudden, her brain began to swim, the buzzing in her ears got louder and the ground tilted. What the hell? She stopped walking and bent in half, hands propped on knees, breathing through the dizziness.

“Sam? What's wrong?”

“I don't know.” Despite the chilly bite in the air, her body felt hot, and her stomach wanted to reject Nancy's delicate cucumber sandwiches. Ugh. She forced herself to stand upright and instantly regretted it. The world was now actively spinning, and only Avery's quick thinking and his arm around her shoulders kept her from keeling over.

Shit
,
fuck
,
damn
,
hell
, she had the goddamned flu.

* * *

T
HIS
HAD
TO
be what it felt like to die. Sam wasn't sure which was worse, the chills, the constant puking or the fact that she'd actually needed Avery Hill's help—desperately. Everything was a blur from the time they left Nancy's house until he somehow got them into a hotel room where she'd done nothing but puke since he half walked, half carried her in there.

“Sam, I think we ought to call EMS,” he said after another vicious bout of vomiting.

Curled into the fetal positon on the bathroom floor, she shivered violently as she tried to control the nausea long enough to speak. “Go. Away. Avery.”

“I can't leave you alone like this.”

“Go!”

She didn't know if he stayed or left because she couldn't move to find out. In fact, if she never had to move again, that would be fine with her. The next time she woke up it was dark, she was in bed and he was asleep in a chair in the corner. Sam realized she'd been awakened by her ringing cell phone.

Avery stood. “I'll get that for you.”

Sam summoned the last of her energy to lunge for the phone. “No.” Though she was sicker than she'd ever been, somehow she knew that if she let him answer that phone she'd have the biggest problem of her life. She fumbled with the phone and managed to flip it open before her eyes closed again.

“Sam!” Nick's cry got her attention.
“Samantha.”

“Sick.”

“What? Honey, what's wrong?”

“What you had.”

“Oh my God, baby. Where's Avery?”

“Won't go away.”

“Let me talk to him.”

Sam was on her way back to sleep. “Sam! Let me talk to Avery, honey.”

She held up the phone. “Talk to him.” She fell asleep to the lyrical sound of Avery's accent, which was strangely comforting under the circumstances, conveying the details of their afternoon and evening to Nick. Until she remembered that Nick hated Avery, who was now alone in a hotel room with her. Nick would be mad about that, but she couldn't keep her eyes open long enough to deal with it.

She dreamed about the case, about Arnold, Gonzo and Scotty. Where was Scotty? Did Nick have him? Sam woke up sweating, thrashing at the blankets that were wrapped around her legs, her anxiety spiking when she couldn't remember who had Scotty.

“Scotty. Where's Scotty?”

“Home with his dad.”

Sam's eyes flew open to see Avery Hill wearing a T-shirt and sweats. He was seated on the edge of her bed.

“You need to drink some water so you don't get dehydrated.” He held a cup of ice water and helped her sit up to take a sip.

The cold water sliding down her throat was the best thing she'd ever experienced. He forced a few more sips into her before Sam couldn't hold herself up any longer. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow and woke to the sound of men's voices. Sam thought she was still dreaming when she heard Nick. She had to be dreaming. He was in D.C. She was somewhere with Avery. Where were they again?

Tennessee.

She was in Tennessee, and her husband was in Washington. But then she heard him say, “I'll take it from here.” The door to the room clicked shut, and she forced her eyes open to see if she was hallucinating. She had to be dreaming this.

Nick leaned over the bed to kiss her forehead, his familiar scent letting her know she wasn't imagining him. He'd really come. His thumbs on her cheeks wiped away dampness. “I'm here, baby. Everything is okay now.”

“Are you mad?”

“What? Why would I be mad?”

“Avery,” she said, swallowing a new wave of nausea. “He was here. In my room.”

“He made sure you were okay until I got here.” His fingertips on her face brushed away the hair that had stuck to her sweaty forehead. “How could I ever be mad about that?”

“He makes you crazy.”

“He took care of you for me. It's okay.”

Sam wanted to ask how he'd gotten there so fast and who was with Scotty and what was happening with the case, but she couldn't stay awake any longer. She drifted off only to be awakened sometime later when a wave of nausea had her sitting up in bed.

Nick was there, holding a bucket or maybe it was a trash can while she vomited. He held back her hair until it was over. The cool washcloth he used to wash her face felt like heaven. And when he got back in bed and put his arms around her, warming her chills with the heat of his body, she began to feel the tiniest bit better.