Fatal Deception (19 page)

“I told you,” Sam said, annoyed. “Agent Hill.”

“What kind of agent?” Shelby asked, looking a bit flushed and doe-eyed.

“FBI.”

“That accent,” Tracy said. “Listening to him talk was almost as good as sex.”

“I know!” Shelby said. “I was thinking sex-on-a-stick, baby. I call dibs”

Tracy dissolved into laughter. “Sadly, I’m already married. He’s all yours.”

“I’m so going to like working here,” Shelby said. “All the guys I get to meet in my current line of work are already spoken for. Will we be seeing more of the very yummy Agent Hill?”

“God, I hope not,” Nick said.

“Is he single?” Shelby asked.

“Hell if I know,” Sam said. “If you’re done drooling over my colleague, we’ve got a fundraiser to get to.”

“The car will be here in five minutes,” Nick said.

“Tell me again why we aren’t we driving ourselves?” Sam asked.

Nick slipped an arm around her bare shoulders and drew her in close to him. “I don’t get much time alone with my wife. Why would I spend two hours driving there and back when I could use that time with her so much more...productively?”

“Y’all are too damned cute,” Shelby said.

“
He
is cute,” Sam said with a pointed look for her new assistant. “I am most definitely not cute. Got me?”

“Absolutely.” Shelby made a poor attempt to hide her smile. “Gotcha, boss.”

* * *

“Are you going to tell me why you were crying before?” Nick asked the minute they were settled in the backseat of the black sedan. A privacy screen sealed them off from the driver as they headed south toward Leesburg.

Sam reached for his hand. “I talked to Celia about the birth-control shot wearing off and the big decision.”

He seemed to stop breathing. “And?”

“She pointed out that if we don’t try at least once more, I’ll always wonder what might’ve been.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“She’s right. I would always wonder. For so long, I didn’t think it was possible, and now...”

“Now that you know it’s possible, it’s all you can think about.”

“Yes.” She forced herself to look directly into his eyes. “I want to try again. One more time. If it doesn’t work, we’ll adopt or hire a surrogate or do whatever people do when they can’t have kids of their own.”

“You’re sure?”

Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded.

“If you were to get pregnant, how would you handle work and everything?”

“That’s something I’ve thought a lot about. There’s no way I could roll up into a ball for ten months and do nothing. I’d want to keep my routine as regular as possible for as long as I could.”

“And then you’d roll up into a ball?”

Smiling, she nodded. “I wouldn’t take any foolish chances, but I can’t roll myself in bubble wrap, either.”

“Trust me, if that was possible, I would’ve done it a long time ago.” He raised his arm, inviting her closer.

Sam rested the uninjured side of her face on his chest, using her hair to protect his suit from her makeup.

“We’re really going to do this?”

She nodded.

“And you’re really going to be all right if it doesn’t go our way?”

“Will you be there to put the pieces back together?”

“Always.”

“Then I’ll be all right.”

“I love you so much, Sam. You have no idea how much.”

“If it’s anywhere near as much as I love you, it’s an awful lot.”

He squeezed her shoulder and ran his lips over her forehead. “I have a good feeling about this.”

“I’m glad.” She closed her eyes tight against the rush of emotion, mindful of the mascara Tracy had applied. “Other than the last five minutes, this has been such a shitty day.”

“Does your face hurt bad?”

“It’s bearable, but that’s the least of my problems.” She told him about what’d happened with McBride and Tyrone as well as the unsatisfying confrontation with her father.

“Jeez,” Nick said. “As if getting pistol whipped in the face wasn’t enough for one day.”

That made Sam laugh and then moan when the wound protested the movement. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“What do you think your dad is keeping from you?”

Sam was still trying to get her head around the awful certainty that he was hiding something that would blow his life—and maybe hers, too—to smithereens if it was ever revealed. “I think he was having an affair, and somehow it’s tied to the Fitzgerald case.”

“Really? I so don’t see him as the cheating type.”

“Well, to be fair, you’ve only known him as a quadriplegic.”

“Still, I know him, and I don’t see it.”

“Tracy has alluded to something big going on between my parents around the same time as the Fitzgerald case, but even she doesn’t know what exactly. Apparently, that was the first time my mother moved out. I don’t remember it, though.”

“How old were you?”

“Ten.”

“And you don’t remember your mother moving out?”

“She was always going off somewhere with her girlfriends or her sisters, so I wouldn’t have thought anything of her being gone. She eventually came back.”

“I hate to say this...”

“I’m already thinking it,” Sam said.

“If your father won’t talk about it, maybe she will.”

The thought of calling her mother after so many years of silence filled Sam with anxiety.

Nick rubbed a soothing hand up and down her arm. “You don’t have to do anything about it until you feel ready.”

“I’m afraid my father will never speak to me again if I pursue this, but how can I not now that I know there were leads that weren’t fully investigated?”

“As the lieutenant in charge of the homicide division, you have an obligation to do your job. Wouldn’t he do the same in your position?”

“Probably, but it’s hard to remember it’s my job when my dad is telling me to leave it alone.”

“He’s put you in an untenable position.”

“That’s putting it mildly. Not that you ever would, but you can’t say anything about this to anyone. I had no choice but to suspend McBride and Tyrone, but if I have my way, no one will ever know why. Of course Stahl is already sniffing around.”

“Don’t worry, babe. I won’t say a word.”

“I wish I’d hear something from Freddie about the raid.”

“You will. As soon as they have something to tell you, you’ll hear.”

* * *

Freddie knew the goal was the safe recovery of Maeve Kavanaugh, and every cell in his body was focused on the baby. That didn’t mean, however, he wasn’t rankled to be taking orders from the Fed who’d put himself in charge of this operation in Sam’s absence.

Ramsey and his partner were stuck in traffic in Maryland, where they’d gone to check out a couple of leads that’d been called in after the Amber Alert was issued.

While they waited for the SWAT team to move into place, Freddie held his position, awaiting Hill’s order to go in. Sweating like a pig from the combination of the Kevlar vest he wore over his clothes and the oppressive heat, he had his weapon drawn and kept his gaze fixed on the small, shingled house. From the outside, it appeared the place had seen better days, which meant it fit right in with the other houses in the tired neighborhood.

With SWAT in position, Hill ran through a roll call, checking to make sure everyone was in position. When he was finished, Freddie waited to hear the word in his earpiece.

“Go,” Hill said, signaling SWAT to take control of the house. Using a battering ram, they took down the front door as if it were made of paper. A woman’s shrill shriek greeted them.

“Secure,” the SWAT team commander reported less than thirty seconds later.

“Cruz, Arnold,” Hill said. “Go.”

Freddie ran for the open door with Detective Arnold right behind him, providing cover. Inside, they found an older black woman crying hysterically. Her hands were up in deference to the two-dozen semiautomatic weapons trained on her.

The house appeared clean and well kept on the surface. Sitting in a high chair in the kitchen that adjoined the living room, Maeve Kavanaugh watched the goings on warily, as if she didn’t know what to make of all the commotion.

“Hi, Maeve,” Freddie said gently, trying not to scare the poor kid any more than necessary. “My name is Freddie, and your daddy sent me to get you.” A quick assessment showed the child to be clean and apparently well cared for. There were no outward signs of trauma, which didn’t mean the kid hadn’t been traumatized.

“Dada.”

“Yes, Dada sent me.” As Arnold arrested the hysterical woman and recited her rights, Freddie fumbled with the tray, trying to figure out how to get it off the chair.

One of the SWAT officers took mercy on him and reached beneath the tray to release it.

“Thanks,” Freddie said. “No kids.”

“No kidding,” the officer said with a grin. The relief in the room was palpable now that they’d found Maeve unharmed.

When Freddie lifted the blond-haired toddler from the chair, she stiffened and let out a shriek of protest. Her tiny body went rigid in his arms. She was probably tired of being handled by strangers.

“Mama! Mama!” Maeve began to cry in earnest as Freddie carried her out of the house to the paramedics, who whisked her away.

“I’ll ride with her,” Freddie said to Hill as the agent met him outside. “Have you notified Mr. Kavanaugh?”

“Already done. He’ll meet you at GW.”

As a homicide detective, Freddie didn’t get to see many happy endings. Reuniting Maeve Kavanaugh with her father was something he was truly looking forward to.

“What do we know about the woman?” Freddie asked. There hadn’t been much time for questions before the raid.

“Only her name. Bertha Ray. Apparently, she’s known around the neighborhood as a grandmotherly type, always taking in strays.”

“That doesn’t jibe with the profile of a kidnapping murderer.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Hill said, seeming as frustrated as Freddie felt. “I’m going to HQ to question Mrs. Ray. Keep me posted on Maeve’s condition.”

“I will, and I’ll let the lieutenant know that—”

“I’ll take care of notifying her,” Hill said.

What the hell was that all about? “Yes, sir, Agent Hill.” Freddie made no effort to keep the sarcasm out of his tone. “Whatever you say.”

With a curt nod, Hill went to talk to the SWAT commander.

* * *

“So fucking stupid,” Hill muttered to himself as he walked away from Cruz. He was doing a piss-poor job of hiding his feelings for the outrageously sexy lieutenant. When he thought about how she’d looked floating down the stairs in that shimmering evening gown...

Her husband had noticed her at the same instant Hill did, which was the only reason Hill was still alive. If the senator had seen the reaction Hill had to the sight of his gorgeous wife, Hill wouldn’t have blamed the senator for resorting to violence.

He’d stooped to an all-time low by lusting after another man’s wife. Now Cruz was wondering why he was so insistent on calling the lieutenant himself rather than the far more logical scenario of her partner taking care of it.

Hill stormed over to talk to the SWAT commander, who viewed him suspiciously.

“Everything all right, Agent Hill?”

“Yeah,” Hill said. “We’re good. Pass along my thanks to your team.”

“Will do. Glad we found the kid.”

Hill nodded in agreement. His every emotion was simmering on the surface of his skin, reminding him of the time he’d stumbled upon a nest of fire ants as a kid. He waited for the crime scene unit to arrive and got them started processing the scene before he got in the car and turned the air-conditioning to blast.

For a long time he sat there, letting the cool air pummel him. He wasn’t thinking about the interrogation he needed to oversee or the child he’d helped to rescue or the confusing case that promised to expose a scheme of epic proportions. No, his every thought was still focused on the image of Sam coming down the stairs in that amazing dress. If he lived to be a hundred years old, he’d never forget how gorgeous she’d looked in that moment.

Burying his fingers in his hair, he took a series of deep breaths, hoping to calm his fast-beating heart. He needed to call her and tell her the raid had been a success. Even though he could more than handle the interrogation on his own, he wanted her thoughts on how best to proceed.

When the hell had her voice become the one in his head? At this very moment, she was snuggled up to her dashing husband in the back of a limo on the way to the fundraiser. She probably hadn’t given him a thought since he left her house. Whereas she was all he could think about.

Why had he gone to the house in the first place? He couldn’t really say, except he’d assumed she’d be suffering more than most over the missing child. He knew about her history of miscarriage—hell, everyone knew after the
Reporter
printed the salacious story about her earlier in the year. He’d wanted her to know as soon as he did that they’d had a break. When she didn’t answer her phone, he’d acted without thinking, and now he had an image burned into his brain that would stay with him forever.

“That’s what you get, asshole. Poking your nose into places you don’t belong. Get it together, for crying out loud.” He could lecture himself all night, but it wouldn’t change anything. Reaching for his cell phone, he found her number in his contacts—why her number was in his contacts was another cause for concern—and pressed Send.

While he waited for her to answer, he pinched the bridge of his nose, where a headache had formed in the last hour.

“Holland.” Her voice sounded husky and sexy, as if she’d been sleeping or—

No. Don’t think about that. Do. Not. Think. About. That.

“Hill? Are you there?”

“Sorry, someone was talking to me. We got the kid.”

“Is she...”

“She seems fine. The paramedics are taking her to the ER where her father is meeting her. Cruz went with her.”

“That’s good. What a relief.”

“For sure.”

“Who had her?”

“An older woman named Bertha Ray. My gut is telling me she’s got nothing to do with the kidnapping. Word on the street is she’s the neighborhood babysitter. A real grandmotherly type. The goal will be to figure out who hired her.”