Lethal Attraction: Against the Rules\Fatal Affair (36 page)

“She has, Chief. We’ve been through it several times, and she’s never wavered from her initial statement.”

“I’ll let you get back to work then,” Farnsworth said. “Thanks for being here.”

“No problem.” With an encouraging smile for Sam, Charity got up and left the room.

“If there’s nothing else, I’ve got a few more threads to tie up before my tour ends,” Sam said.

“There’s just one more thing,” Farnsworth said, reaching for a file on his desk.

Sam refused to acknowledge the twinge of pain that hovered in her gut. “Sir?”

“I had lunch with your father earlier this week.”

“Yes, sir, he mentioned that. I know he appreciates your visits.” To the others, she added, “All of you.”

“And I know you go out of your way to downplay your family’s history with this department.”

“I don’t want nor do I expect special treatment because of the rank my father attained prior to being injured in the line.”

Farnsworth replied with a hint of a smile. “Regardless, he was curious as to whether I’d gotten the results of the lieutenant’s exam.”

Just those words were enough to override any success she’d had in keeping the pain at bay. It roared through her, leaving her breathless in its wake. When she was able to speak again, she said, “I’m aware it’s a source of embarrassment to my father and to you as my superior officers that I’ve been unable to pass the exam on two previous attempts.”

“What I’d like to know is why the fact that you’re dyslexic isn’t mentioned anywhere in your personnel file.”

Stunned, Sam opened her mouth and then closed it when the words simply wouldn’t come.

“I’ve done some basic research on dyslexia and discovered that standardized tests are one of the dyslexic’s greatest foes.”

“Yes, but—”

“Allow me to finish, Sergeant. I have to admit this information was a relief to me.” He gestured to the deputy chief and captain. “To all of us. We’ve been hard pressed to understand how the best detective on this force has been unable to attain a rank that should’ve been hers some time ago.”

“I...um...”

“You passed this time,” Farnsworth said. “Just barely—but you did pass.”

Sam stared at him, wondering if she had heard him correctly.

He rifled through some other papers until he found what he was looking for. “With the distinct exception of Lt. Stahl, you’ve received outstanding superior officer recommendations, high marks on your interviews and evaluations. We also factored in the graduate degree in criminal justice you earned from George Washington. All in all, you make for an ideal candidate for promotion.” He looked up at her. “Under my discretion as chief of police, I’m pleased to inform you that your name will be included in the next group of lieutenants.”

“But, sir,” Sam stammered, “people will talk. They’ll scream favoritism.”

“You met the criteria. The test score is only one element, and no one but the people in this room will know it was low.”

“I’ll know,” she said softly.

“Sergeant, do you believe you’ve earned the rank of lieutenant?”

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have sat for the exam in the first place, but—”

“Then you should have no further objection to a promotion you have earned and deserve. You’ll be taking command of the detective squad at HQ.”

Staggered, Sam stared at him. “But that’s Lieutenant Stahl’s command.”

“He’s being transferred to internal affairs.”

The rat squad
, Sam thought, her stomach grinding under the fist she had balled tight against it. “You’re setting me up to have a powerful enemy.”

“Lieutenant Stahl is skating on very thin ice these days,” Captain Malone said. “I don’t believe he’ll give you any trouble, and if he does, he’ll deal with us. Let me add my congratulations, Sergeant, on a well-earned and highly deserved promotion. I look forward to working with you in your new role.”

“Thank you, sir,” Sam said, still shocked as she shook his outstretched hand and then Conklin’s.

“Ditto,” Conklin said, following Malone from the room. “You’ve earned it.”

“Thank you, sir.”

When they were alone, Sam turned to the chief.

“You’ll piss me off if you ask if this is because I’m your chief or your Uncle Joe,” he said, his tone full of friendly warning.

“I was just going to say thank you,” Sam said with a smile that quickly faded. “Will the, ah, dyslexia be added to my jacket?”

“It’ll remain your personal business, provided it continues to have no bearing on your ability to do the job.”

“It won’t.”

Farnsworth sat back in his big chair and studied her. “I have to ask how you managed to get two degrees while battling dyslexia.”

“I got lucky with professors who worked with me, but everything took me twice as long as it took everyone else. And I’ve always choked on standardized tests. I just can’t get them done in the time allotted.”

“I can only imagine how much harder you’ve had to work to compensate. Knowing that only adds to my respect for you and your work.” He stood up, came around the big desk, and offered his hand. “Congratulations.”

Sam’s throat closed as her hand was enfolded between both of his. “Thank you, sir. I’ll do my very best to be worthy.”

“I have no doubt. Let me know what you uncover in Chicago.”

“I will, sir. Thank you again. For everything.” She closed the door behind her, managed a nod to the chief’s admin, and made for the nearest ladies’ room. The relief, the sheer overwhelming relief, left her staggered. She gave herself ten minutes to fall apart before she pulled it together, wiped her face and blew her nose.

Studying her reflection in the mirror, she whispered, “Lieutenant,” as if to try it on for size. For once her stomach had no comment. Taking that as a positive sign, she splashed cold water on her face and decided to leave on time for a change. The report could be written and transmitted from home. Besides, she needed to go tell the only other person in the world who would care as much as she did that she would soon become Lieutenant Holland.

CHAPTER 19

Before Sam could call for him, she heard the chair.

“What’s this? Home on time?”

She went to him, rested her hands on his shoulders and was startled to encounter sharp bones where thick muscle used to be. Jarred by the discovery, she bent to kiss his forehead. Eye to eye, she said, “I should be furious with you.”

“For?”

“Don’t play coy with me.”

“It should’ve been in your jacket. From day one. I’ve always said that.”

“It wasn’t for a reason. I don’t want people feeling sorry for me or treating me differently. You know how I feel about it.”

“That fierce pride of yours is only going to get you so far.”

“And my daddy is going to get me the rest of the way?”

“I simply gave him a piece of information he didn’t have. What he did or didn’t do with it was up to him.”

“No, Dad, it was up to
me
. I don’t want you interfering in my career. How many times do I have to say it before you get the message?”

“I’ve been duly chastised. Now, are you going to tell me what he did with it?”

“Not until you’ve suffered a little first. What’s for dinner?”

He followed her to the kitchen. “That’s mean, Sam.”

“Are you being mean to your father again?” Celia asked.

“Believe me, he deserves it. Oh, jeez, is that
roast beef?
”

“Sure is. Are you hungry?”

“Starving. I didn’t even realize it until right this very minute.” She peeked into a pot and groaned. “Mashed potatoes? God, my ass is growing just smelling it.”

“Now you stop that,” Celia said as she served the meal. “You have a lovely figure that I’d kill for. How was your day?”

“The usual chaos.”

“Nothing special?” Skip asked. “Nothing different?”

Sam pretended to give that some significant thought. “Not really. Freddie and I are working the case, pulling the threads. Got a couple of good angles to pursue.”

“What are they doing about Johnson?” Skip asked.

Hanging on their every word, Celia fed him and herself with a practiced hand.

“I was ordered to ‘lay low’ until I testify on Tuesday.”

“To which you said...?”

She shrugged. “I’m fine with it. I have to go to Chicago tomorrow, I’m taking most of Sunday off, and have the funeral on Monday. I should be fine.”

“Should be isn’t good enough.” He swallowed, cleared his throat and turned his steely blue eyes on his daughter. “Anything else happen at your meeting with Farnsworth?”

Deciding she had tortured him long enough, she said, “Oh, you mean about the promotion?”

He growled.

“I got it.” She took another bite of mashed potatoes and tried not to think about the calories. “You can soon call me Lieutenant, Chief.”

“Yes,” he whispered. “Yes, indeed.”

“Oh that’s wonderful, Sam!” Celia jumped up to hug and kiss her. “That’s just wonderful, isn’t it, Skip?”

He never took his eyes off his daughter. “It sure is. Come give your old man a hug.”

Pained that he’d had to ask and embarrassed by Celia’s effusiveness, Sam got up and did her best to work around the chair. With her lips close to his ear, she whispered, “Thank you.”

“For?”

Sam pulled back to smile at him. “Love you.”

“When you’re not being mean to me, I love you, too.”

* * *

Two hours later, Sam was laboring her way through the report of the day’s activities on her laptop when Celia knocked on the door.

“Sorry to interrupt your work, but I thought you might enjoy some warm apple pie. It’s so darned cold out.”

Sam moaned. “Tell me it’s fat free, calorie free and can’t find an ass with a roadmap.”

Chuckling, Celia handed her the plate. “All of the above. I swear.”

“If the nursing gig doesn’t pan out, you might consider a life of crime. You’re a convincing liar.”

“You’ve made your father very proud tonight, Sam. He’s always proud of you, but he wanted this promotion for you. More, I think, than you wanted it for yourself.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Sam used a finger to swirl a dollop of whipped cream off the pie and pop it into her mouth. “Sometimes I feel so selfish where he’s concerned.”

Celia lowered herself to the edge of Sam’s bed. “How do mean? You’re here for him every day, despite a demanding, time-consuming job.”

“It would’ve been better...for him anyway...if the shot had been fatal. I can’t imagine how he stands living the way he does, confined to four small rooms and wherever he can go in the van the union bought him. But I wasn’t ready to lose him, Celia. Not then and not now. I thank God every day that bullet didn’t kill him. As much as I hate the way he has to live now, I’m so grateful he’s still here.”

“In his own way, he’s accepted it and come to terms.”

“I wish you could’ve known him.” Sam sighed. “Before.”

“I did,” Celia said with a smile, her pretty face blazing with color and her green eyes dancing with mirth.

“You’ve never told me that! Neither of you ever did!”

“I met him at the Giant, about two years before he was wounded. I helped him pick some tomatoes in the produce aisle, he asked me out for coffee and that was the start of a lovely friendship.”

Sam slipped into detective mode as she narrowed her eyes. “Just friends?”

Laughing, Celia said, “I’ll never tell.”

“You dirty dogs! How did you slide this by me? By everyone?”

“You weren’t looking,” Celia said, her expression smug. “Why do you think I asked to be assigned to his case?”

“You love him,” Sam said, incredulous.

“Very much. In fact, we’ve been talking about maybe...getting married.”

Sam’s mouth fell open. “Seriously? You said he’s been down lately, worried about something. Is this it?”

“It’s one of several things. He’s been terribly upset about what happened to you in the Johnson case and fretting over your safety as well as the promotion he thinks you’ve been due for some time now.”

“I wish he wouldn’t spend so much time worrying about me.”

“Sam,” she said with a smile. “You’re his life. His heart. He loves your sisters and their children very much, but you...”

“I know. I’ve always known that.”

“And you’ve always struggled to live up to it.”

Startled, Sam stared at her. “Been doing a lot more than nursing around here, haven’t you?”

“I hope I haven’t overstepped.”

“Of course you haven’t. You’re already family, Celia. I don’t know what we would’ve done without you the last two years.”

“So you wouldn’t mind too much if I married him?”

Sam put down the plate and reached for the older woman’s hand. “If you make him happy and can bring some joy to whatever time he has left, the only thing I can do is thank you for that.”

“Thank
you
,” Celia said, her eyes bright with emotion. “It matters to him, to both of us, that you’d approve.”

“I guess I need to get busy looking for another place to keep my clothes.”

“Why?”

“You crazy kids won’t want me underfoot.”

“He wants you to stay. We both do. There’s no reason for you to move out. I’ll take one of the other bedrooms up here. We’ll work it out. I’m here most of the time anyway. I don’t expect much will change.”

“This’ll change everything for him, Celia. It’ll give him a reason to keep fighting.”

“Perhaps. I’ll consider myself blessed for whatever time we get.”

“Did he bully you into telling me?”

“He was afraid it would upset you, so I offered.”

“You can tell him that not only am I fine with it, I’m thrilled for him. For both of you.”

“That means a lot, Sam. I’m tired of hiding it. He’s the most remarkable man I’ve ever known and the best friend I’ve ever had.”

“Ditto,” Sam said with a smile as Celia got up to leave. “Thanks for the pie.”

“My pleasure. Don’t work too hard.”

When she was alone, Sam had to resist the urge to call her sisters to share the huge scoop that had just fallen into her lap. “Not my news to tell,” she muttered, deciding that maturity wasn’t much fun at all.

While Celia’s news had surprised her, Sam realized it shouldn’t have. With hindsight, she could see there was something special between her father and his devoted nurse. Their banter, the carefree caresses Celia showered him with even though he couldn’t feel them, the genuine affection.

Comforted by Celia’s disclosures, Sam finished the pie and turned back to her report. She ran through it twice more before she sent it off to Freddie, who always checked them for her before she passed them up the food chain. If he wondered about the random mistakes, odd phrasings or twisted wording, he never said. Rather, he corrected the errors and returned the reports to her without comment.

Might be time to bring him into the loop
, she thought. Dyslexia had cast its long net over every corner of her life, and until its diagnosis in sixth grade, she had believed herself to be as stupid as she was made to feel by teachers who had no idea what to do with her and parents who had been frustrated by her less-than-stellar performance in school.

Giving it a name had helped somewhat, but the daily struggles that went along with it were exhausting at times.

With the report finished, she finally allowed her thoughts to drift to Nick. As if floodgates had opened, she was overwhelmed by emotions and yearnings she had managed to resist all day. She had a list of questions she wanted to run by him, so she had every reason to take out the card he had given her. The call was about the case, right? There was nothing wrong with reaching out to him in a strictly official capacity. If she was also dying to tell him about her promotion and her father’s pending marriage, what did that matter?

She flipped the card back and forth between her fingers for several minutes until her stomach twisted with the start of the dreaded pain. Thinking of the case and
only
the case, she dialed his cell number.

He sounded groggy when he answered.

“Oh God, did I wake you?”

“No, no.” A huge yawn made a liar out of him. “I was hoping you’d call.”

Deciding to keep it strictly business, she said, “I have some questions. About the case.”

“Oh.”

She winced at the disappointment reverberating from that single syllable. “You sound...I don’t know...kind of lousy.”

“It’s been a lousy day, except for the very beginning when I was with you.”

Without saying much of anything he had managed to say it all. And she knew she couldn’t tell him what she needed to tell him over the phone. “You’re at home?”

“Uh huh.”

“Do you mind if I come by? Just for a minute?”

“Are
you
at home?”

“At the moment.”

“You’re just going to ‘drop by’ all the way over here in Arlington? And only for a minute?”

“I need to talk to you, Nick. I need...Oh hell, I don’t even know what I need.”

“Come. I’ll be waiting. And babe? You don’t ever,
ever
have to ask first. Got me?”

She melted into a sloppy, messy puddle of need and want and desire. “Yeah,” she managed to say. “I’ll be there. Soon.” Her heart doing back flips, Sam reached for her weapon, badge and cuffs. She released her hair to brush out the kinks and primped for a few more minutes before she headed downstairs to tell her dad she was going into work for a while. Celia told her he was already asleep.

“He was especially tired tonight.” She held Sam’s coat for her. “You’ll be careful, won’t you?”

“Always.” Impulsively, she turned to kiss Celia’s cheek on her way to the front door. “See you.”

* * *

He’d turned on the outside light for her. A simple thing, but it evoked such a powerful sense of homecoming that Sam sat there for several minutes reminding herself of why she was there—and why she wasn’t. “It can’t be about you,” she whispered. “Not now. This is about finding justice for John O’Connor. Nothing more.”

But when Nick came to the door looking so...well...
lost
was the best word she could think of, nothing else mattered but him.

“Nick.” Closing the door behind her, she let her coat drop to the floor and reached for him.

They stood there, arms wrapped around each other, comfort seeping through to warm the chill she had brought in with her.

Raising her hands to his face, she looked up at him. “What is it?”

Shrugging, he said, “Everything.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I’ve gone from having every minute of every day programmed to not knowing what the hell to do with myself, which gives me way too much time to think.”

Even after what she had learned that day about John O’Connor, she was still able to feel Nick’s pain over the loss of his friend and boss. Used to his unflappable, polished demeanor, seeing him disheveled in a ratty Harvard T-shirt and old sweats was jarring. Sometime in the course of that long day, the shock apparently wore off and gritty grief set in.

“I’m glad you’re here.” He shifted to press her against the closed door. “I’ve been worried about you. That stuff in the paper...”

“We’re handling it.”

“I don’t like the idea of you being unsafe.” The light caress of his hand on her cheek caused her heart to lurch. He leaned in, bringing with him the scent of spice and soap.

“Nick, wait—”

His lips came down hard and insistent on hers, sucking the breath from her lungs and the starch from her spine. If he hadn’t been holding her up with the weight of his body, she might have slid to the floor. Somehow he maneuvered them so her legs were hooked over his hips, his hands were full of her breasts and his tongue was tangled up with hers—all in the scope of thirty seconds.

Having forgotten everything she’d vowed in the car the moment she saw his grief-stricken face, Sam wove her fingers through his damp, silky hair and pressed hard against his straining erection. Then they were moving, falling. She yelped against his lips and clung to him as he lowered them to the sofa.

Tearing at clothes, desperate for skin, for contact, for relief, they wrestled through layers until there was nothing left between them but raging desire.

“You’re just like I remembered.” His tongue darted in circles around her nipple, and his hands seemed to be everywhere at once. “Tall and curvy and strong...soft in all the right places.” Nick gazed with reverence at breasts that had always seemed too big to her, but he appeared to like what he saw.