Fatal Flaw (10 page)

“No one deserves what happened to you.”

“No, but sadly it happens far too often. Perhaps I’ll be a better cop because I understand the victim’s point of view now.”

“I’m glad you’re able to see some positives coming out of it. I’ve been hard-pressed to think about anything other than how I’d like to kill the son of a bitch who did this to you.”

“As tempting as that might be, it won’t change what happened. It wouldn’t do much for your career, either.”

At that, he finally cracked a small grin.

“I really appreciate your friendship and all the support. It’s meant a lot to me.” She smiled when the compliment made him blush. “How about I give the Fitzgeralds a call to let them know we’d like to talk to them?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

During four hours in the ICU, Sam got a total of fifteen minutes with her dad. Listening to a ventilator breathe for him had shredded her nerves as she wondered if she’d ever again be able to bounce a case off him when she was stuck, to consult with him about every aspect of her life. He’d been her touchstone, and in many ways her very best friend for so long that she couldn’t begin to entertain the notion of having to spend the rest of her life without him. Being back in the ICU also brought back grim memories of the horrible days that followed his shooting when they’d been told to expect the worst.

Maybe now, like then, he’d defy the odds. In the meantime, the waiting was making her crazy. Nick had gone home to change out of his suit and to pick up a change of clothes for her. Listening to her sisters and stepmother run the scenarios of how her father’s illness could play out had driven Sam from the waiting room, and now she was doing laps of the long corridor outside the ICU.

Nick returned with the clothes just as Freddie came bursting through the double doors from the ICU.

“What’s up?” Sam asked him.

“We’ve got a murder.”

“Where?”

“Chevy Chase, near the Alice Deal Middle School.”

“A kid?”

Freddie shook his head. “Stay-at-home mom, discovered by her daughter when she got home from school.”

Sam glanced at Nick who watched her intently.

“There’s not much you can do here, Sam,” he said.

“I probably shouldn’t leave, though. Even for a little while.”

“Is there anything you need to say to him that you haven’t already said?”

He knew her so well it was frightening at times. “No.”

“Then go. That’s what your dad would want you to do. I’ll stay with Celia and the others, and I’ll call you if anything changes.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind? It’s not like you don’t have things to do too.”

“I cleared my schedule for the rest of the day, and I don’t mind.”

How, she wondered, had she ever managed without him? She went up on tiptoes to kiss him. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“I’ll be here.” He ran a finger over her cheek. “Be careful out there.”

“Always am.”

“Be extra careful today. You’ve got a lot on your mind.”

“You’ll tell Celia where I’ve gone?”

“Absolutely.”

“Thanks.” She kissed him once more and then followed Freddie to the elevator, still not entirely certain that she should leave. If the worst should happen while she was gone, Sam would deal with it because Nick was right—her father would want her to go. The job, he’d say, pauses for no one and nothing. She hoped her stepmother and sisters would understand. If they didn’t, Nick would smooth things over with them.

Sam and Freddie arrived a short time later at a two-story colonial home on a leafy street in Chevy Chase. Emergency vehicles lined the street, and the usual crowd of concerned neighbors had gathered outside the yellow crime-scene tape. Flashing their badges, Sam and Freddie pushed their way through and ducked under the tape. A patrolman greeted them.

“What’ve we got?” Sam asked.

The officer consulted a notebook. “Crystal Trainer, age thirty-five, found on the back patio by her daughter Nicole, age twelve, when the daughter arrived home from school.” He gestured to the yard where a female officer was comforting the distraught girl. “No sign of forced entry, and as far as we could tell, nothing had been disturbed inside the house. Mrs. Trainer’s purse and cell phone were found on the kitchen table. The cash in her wallet seemed to be untouched. The deceased’s son, Josh, age eight, is due home from school momentarily.”

Where, Sam thought, he’d learn his life had been permanently changed. “Husband?”

“Was notified by his daughter and is on his way home from work.”

“Neighbors?”

He gestured to the tapeline where two other officers were interviewing the people who’d gathered there. “So far no one has reported seeing or hearing anything out of the ordinary.”

“Good job,” she said to the patrolman. Sam snapped on latex gloves and headed for the open front door. To Freddie, she said, “Check on the canvass.”

“On it,” he said.

Inside the nicely furnished home, Sam nodded to the officer who greeted her.

“This way, Lieutenant.”

She followed him from the living room to a spacious kitchen that boasted modern appliances in brushed stainless. A designer purse sat on the kitchen table next to keys and a smartphone.

“I was sorry to hear your father is ill,” the officer said, jarring Sam from her thoughts about the case.

“Thank you.”

“We’re all pulling for him.”

“I appreciate that, and I’m sure he will too.”

They stepped through a sliding glass door to a stone patio that boasted a glass table and wrought-iron chairs with green-and-white-striped pads. Pots of well-tended blooms added a cheerful dose of color.

The officer pointed to the dead woman, who was sprawled facedown on the far side of the table. “Hit from behind with a blunt object is my guess,” he said, pointing to the back of her head. She’d bled so profusely that it was almost impossible to tell that her hair had been blond.

A gasp from behind them caught Sam’s attention, and she turned in time to watch the color drain from the face of a man in a dark business suit as he caught sight of the dead woman. He staggered and gripped one of the chairs to steady himself. Something about him was familiar to Sam.

“Oh my God,” he said. “
Crystal.
What happened?”

“We don’t know yet. What’s your name?”

“Jed. Jed Trainer.”

“And she’s your wife?”

“Yes.” He nodded and then glanced at Sam. “We’ve been separated for a few months, but we’d been working on it.” His voice caught, and his eyes filled. “God. Crystal. I can’t believe this.”

“One of the officers said your son is due home momentarily,” Sam said.

He raised a shaking hand to consult his watch. “Yes, any minute. How will I tell him? They were so close. And poor Nicole to come home and find this…”

“Go meet your son, and we’ll discuss this further when you’ve had a chance to tell him what’s happened.”

“Yes. Yes, okay.” He took another long look at the woman on the patio before he turned and went inside.

Lindsey McNamara came through the slider next. “We meet again,” she said to Sam, shaking her head with dismay as she took in the scene. She squeezed Sam’s arm. “I was sorry to hear about your dad. He’s a fighter.”

“We’re counting on that.”

“If there’s anything I can do—anything at all—you know where I am.”

“Thank you.”

Lindsey tugged on gloves, knelt on the patio and went to work examining the body.

“I need a time of death to get me started,” Sam said.

“Judging from the clotting and rigor, I’m guessing about three hours ago.” Lindsey lifted some strands of hair to better expose the wound on the back of her scalp. “Looks like one lethal blow from behind. Probably took her by surprise.”

An anguished scream came from inside the house, and Sam shuddered. “That’d be the son hearing the news.”

“How old?” Lindsey asked.

“Eight.”

“God. Poor kid.”

“Kids, plural. The twelve-year-old daughter found her.”

“Ugh.”

Sam had so many competing emotions storming around inside her—worry about her father’s health, thoughts of the new case and the poor children who’d lost their mother—that she had to force herself to focus on her job. She was concerned about McBride and whether she’d made a mistake bringing her recovering detective back to work so soon after the egregious attack. Then there was the matter of Gardner and the offer she’d made him hoping to gain some new information about her father’s shooting. And not to be forgotten were the threats they’d found in the wedding cards. It was all too much for one brain to process.

“Sam?” Lindsey jarred her out of the pensive state she’d slipped into. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just thinking it through.”

“When you have a spare minute in the midst of the madness, I could use some advice.”

“About?”

“You want to do this now?”

“We’ve got a minute. What’s going on?”

“Terry O’Connor.”

“Ahh. What about him?”

“He told me about the alcoholism.”

“And?”

Lindsey glanced at the officer who was canvassing the yard. “We should probably talk about it another time.”

“I’ve got time now while I wait for the husband.”

“Well, he’s put the ball in my court. It’s up to me to call him.”

“So what’s stopping you?”

“I grew up surrounded by alcoholics. My father, grandfather, uncle. I’m not sure I have it in me, you know?”

“I can see how it would be daunting.”

As they spoke, Lindsey sealed Mrs. Trainer’s hands in plastic bags to preserve evidence and prepared the body for transport. “How well do you know him?”

“Not all that well. We didn’t get off to the best of starts with me accusing him of his brother’s murder and all that.”

Lindsey continued to prepare the body for transport. “And since then?”

“I see him once in a while when Nick and I go to Sunday dinner at the O’Connors’. For what it’s worth, he’s a much different person now than he was when I first met him.”

“How so?”

“For one thing, he’s sober and seems committed to staying that way. Nick made rehab and daily AA meetings a condition of his job offer.”

“He’s thrilled to be Nick’s deputy chief of staff,” Lindsey said.

“Nick has been pleased with his contributions so far. That’s all I can really tell you.”

“That’s quite a lot, actually.” She glanced up at Sam. “If you were me, would you give him a chance?”

Sam thought about that for a minute. As much as it drove her crazy to have her people dating Nick’s people, she liked Lindsey and wanted her to be happy. “In light of how hard he’s worked to reclaim his life, I’d guess he’s a pretty good bet right about now. Of course, I can’t know anything for sure, but since you’re only talking about dating not marriage, I can’t see what a few dates would hurt.”

At the word
marriage,
Lindsey made a grimacing face. “No talk of marriage.”

“Then I guess it’s up to you to decide whether he’s worth the risk.”

Escorted by Freddie, Jed Trainer stepped through the sliding door, his eyes red from crying. “That was the most brutal thing I’ve ever had to do,” he said, his voice catching on a sob. “I’ve sent the kids next door so they won’t have to see their mother removed from the house.”

“That’s a good idea,” Sam said. “However, I’ll need to speak with both of them.”

“I’ll take you over there when you’re done here.”

“I sent a patrol officer with the kids to keep them from talking to each other about their mother or speculating about what might’ve happened until you have a chance to talk to them,” Freddie said.

“Good, thank you.”

Crime scene detectives arrived, and Sam turned to Jed. “Mr. Trainer, could we please step inside for a few minutes?”

“Of course,” he said, taking a last look at the body on the patio before leading them into the living room to sit on the sofa. He tugged at his tie and released his top button.

Sam took a seat across from him on a love seat. Freddie sat next to her. “Can you tell me when you last saw Crystal?” she asked.

“The day before yesterday. I took the kids to dinner and saw her when I brought them home.”

“What was your custody arrangement?”

“They lived with her and spent every other weekend with me. I travel a lot for work, so I see them when I can during the week.”

“And Mrs. Trainer was okay with that?”

“We went out of our way to keep things cordial for the kids.”

“Who initiated the separation?”

“She did.”

“What was her reasoning?”

He ran a hand over his mouth as his posture tightened with tension. “I had an affair. She found out about it, and that was that.”

“You said you’d been working on the marriage. Were you in therapy?”

Nodding, he said, “We were making some progress, but now… I just can’t believe she’s really gone.”

“Where were you today?”

The implication of what she was asking settled on him all at once. His expression went from cooperative to angry in a flash. “At my office.”

“All day?”

“Except for twenty minutes when I went to get a sandwich.”

“We’ll need to confirm your alibi so we can rule you out as a suspect.”

“Fine.” He got up, went into the kitchen and returned with a pad of paper. Withdrawing a pen from his shirt pocket, he wrote down a name and number. “My assistant can confirm my whereabouts for the entire day.”

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t kill her. I loved her, and I wanted to fix our marriage. I screwed up. I was doing what I could to make amends. What am I supposed to do now?”

“You take care of your kids the best you can,” Freddie said.

“Mr. Trainer, did your wife have problems with anyone in her life? Family members, friends, anyone in the community?”

He shook his head. “Everyone loved Crystal. She had tons of friends and was president of the PTO at Nicole’s school. People liked her.”

“Is it possible she had problems with someone and didn’t tell you?” Freddie asked.

“Doubtful. Even though we were separated, we talked often. She would’ve told me if something was wrong.”

“Did she work?” Sam asked.

“No, but she did a ton of volunteer work.”

“Can you give us a list of the organizations where she worked as well as friends we might speak to?”

Jed added the names and addresses to the page he had given them.

“If you can think of any problem she might’ve had or anyone she was at odds with, please let us know.” Sam handed him her card. “Even the smallest thing can make a difference.”

“The officer outside said there was no damage to the doors, so does that mean it was someone we know?” he asked. “Did she let in a friend not knowing they’d come to do her harm?”

“That’s possible,” Sam said. “Or the door was unlocked, and this was totally random.”

“Do you really think that?”