Fatal Flaw (9 page)

When Sam was certain Jeannie was okay for the time being, she turned to Freddie. “Thanks for laying the groundwork.”

“No problem. We’re all happy to have her back.” He gestured to the conference room. “Come with me, will you?”

“What’re you up to?”

“You’ll see.”

Sam was dismayed to find another huge pile of cards on the conference room table along with three towering stacks of file folders.

“More mail?” she said. “You gotta be kidding me.”

“Sucks to be so popular, huh?”

“Seriously. What’s with all the files?”

“All your cases.”

“
All
of them?”

“Every one. I figure we go through them and maybe we can figure out who might have a beef with you.”

“They
all
have a beef with me.”

“Until we get the report on the cards from the lab, we can narrow the list of suspects to who might’ve gotten paroled recently.”

Eyeing the huge pile of files, Sam yearned for the beach in Bora Bora. She so didn’t feel like dealing with this.

“Lieutenant?”

“I appreciate what you’ve done, gathering the files and the thought you’ve put into this.”

“But?”

“I’m afraid we’re spinning our wheels. In about four seconds last night I thought of a hundred people who’d never want me to know a minute of happiness.”

“We’ll look at every one of them,” he said fiercely. It bothered him, she knew, that someone was threatening her.

“It’s a waste of time, Freddie.”

“How can you say that? Someone is threatening you—
and your husband.
You can’t just ignore that.”

“I don’t plan to ignore it.” She thought of the week the chief had given her to investigate the threats, but the sheer magnitude of the task hadn’t settled on her until she saw the huge stacks of file folders on the table. “I’d much rather investigate Gardner’s role in my father’s shooting.”

“No reason we can’t do both.”

Sam felt like her head was going to explode. Her phone pinged with a text message. She reached for it and flipped it open, her heart sinking as she read the text from Celia: “Pneumonia. They are admitting him to GW’s ICU. Call when you can.”

When her legs seemed to liquefy beneath her Sam sank into a chair.

“What?” Freddie asked.

“My dad. He’s got pneumonia.”

“Oh God.”

“Yeah.”

“What do you need?”

“I have no idea.” The mountain of file folders seemed to get larger as she absorbed the news about her dad. Her phone rang, and Sam flipped it open. “Holland.”

“Sam,” Celia said, her voice wavering. “Your dad is asking for you. They’re talking about putting him on a vent and he wants to see you before then. Can you come?”

Sam’s stomach began to ache fiercely. “I’m on my way.”

“Hurry,” her stepmother added before ending the call.

“I’ll drive,” Freddie said after Sam filled him in.

With his hand on her shoulder, he urged her out of the chair and steered her from the conference room. In the hallway, they ran into Lt. Stahl.

“A moment of your time, Lieutenant,” Stahl said with a glare for Freddie.

“Not now,” he snapped.

Stahl’s beady eyes narrowed with rage. “Watch your tone, Detective.”

Freddie ignored him and propelled Sam into her office. “Get your stuff.”

Sam wanted to shake off her overly concerned partner the way she normally would when he tried to hover, but somehow she couldn’t seem to form the words. She grabbed her keys from her desk drawer.

Freddie was locking the office when Gonzo approached them. “Everything all right?”

“The lieutenant’s father is in the hospital. We’re on our way over there now.”

Gonzo turned his gaze on Sam. “What can I do?”

“Go through the unopened cards in the conference room. See if there are any others that need to go to the lab,” Freddie said. “Put some pressure on the lab for results on the first two.”

“Will do. Keep me posted?”

Sam nodded and glanced at the pit. “Keep an eye on McBride. Don’t let her do too much today. See her home after a while.”

“No problem. Just so you know, I’ve been doing some more digging on Gardner. I don’t have anything new yet, but I feel like I’m getting closer.”

“I appreciate that. Thank you.” Sam felt the eyes of everyone at HQ on her as she and Freddie headed for the main door. It wouldn’t take long for news of her father’s illness to whip through the ranks. A popular, decorated officer, Skip Holland had been three months shy of retirement when a gunman’s bullet changed their lives forever. Finding that gunman had turned out to be one of the more frustrating challenges Sam had faced in her life.

As Freddie drove them to George Washington University Hospital on 23rd Street, Sam called Nick and got his voice mail. Hearing his voice made her long for him. “Hey, it’s me. They’re admitting my dad to GW ICU with pneumonia. That’s where I’ll be for now. Freddie’s with me. I, um, I guess I’ll see you when I see you.” She closed the phone and returned it to her pocket.

“You know he’ll be there the second he gets that message,” Freddie said.

Sam looked out the window as the city raced by. “Yeah.” Just over two years ago, they’d come so close to losing Skip. Since then, he’d done an admirable job of adapting to the hand life had dealt him. At some point, Sam realized, his family had accepted his limitations and learned to live with them. To lose him now, especially before she caught the person who shot him, would be unimaginable.

They arrived at the Intensive Care Unit where Celia waited with Sam’s sisters Angela and Tracy as well as Tracy’s husband Mike. Celia’s green eyes were rimmed with red. She hugged Sam and then Freddie.

“What’re they saying?” Sam asked. Seeing her stepmother and sisters in tears didn’t do much to help her already out-of-control anxiety.

“They’re putting him on a ventilator, but he wants to talk to you first.” Celia put her arm around Sam. “He sounds awful, so prepare yourself.”

Sam nodded and let Celia lead her into the room where monitors were beeping and a nurse was typing into a computer. Her father’s labored breathing was all Sam could hear.

Celia leaned over the bed and kissed her husband’s forehead. “Honey, Sam’s here.”

Skip’s eyes fluttered open. “Sam.”

Sam rested a hand on his arm and was startled by the heat radiating from his skin. “I’m here, Dad.”

Skip shifted his eyes to Celia. “Give us a minute, hon.”

“I’ll be right outside,” she said.

Sam turned to the nurse. “Could we have just a minute?”

“The doctor wants him on the vent ASAP.”

“We’ll be quick.”

The nurse left the room, and Sam focused on her father. She brushed the hair off his forehead because she wanted him to be able to feel the caress. It occurred to her that this could be the last time she ever spoke to him, a thought so overwhelming she had to force herself to take the next breath.

“You remember,” he said between wheezing breaths.

Sam knew exactly what he meant. She thought of the prescription bottle she’d stashed in a safety deposit box.

“Sam. Please.” He gulped in a deep breath. “Don’t let this go on. Promise me.”

Her heart felt as if someone was squeezing it. “I promise. Don’t worry about anything.” Years ago she’d agreed to help him if the time came, but now… The thought of actually doing it was beyond devastating.

“Love you, Sam Cappuano,” he whispered, saying words they rarely uttered out loud.

Sam bent to press her lips to his forehead, tears spilling from her eyes. No doubt he could feel them too. “Love you too, Skippy. You’re going to beat this. I know it.”

“If I don’t…”

“I’ll take care of it. I’ll never stop looking for the person who did this to you.”

“Stop looking.” His eyes fluttered closed. “Live your life, baby girl.”

“Get some rest.” She wiped the dampness from her face and stayed with him until the nurse returned. Outside the room, she leaned against a wall, eyes closed, heart beating fast. The last two years had been a nightmare for him in so many ways. He had to be tired of such a limited existence. But Sam wasn’t ready. If she had another twenty years to prepare herself, she’d never be ready to lose him.

“Sam.”

She opened her eyes to find Freddie watching her with concern etched into his adorable face. He too was very fond of her father.

“How is he?”

“Not so good.”

“What can I do for you?”

She shrugged, helplessly. “Since you have a direct line to God, maybe, you know…”

“Already done.”

“Thanks. You don’t have to stick around. You can go back to work if you want.”

“If it’s all right with you, I’d rather be here. I’ll take vacation time.”

Grateful for his presence, she nodded. They rejoined the others in the waiting room where the doctor found them half an hour later. He reported that Skip was being given massive doses of antibiotics and had been put on a ventilator to help him breathe. They’d sedated him to keep him comfortable.

“It’s more or less a waiting game at this point,” the doctor concluded. “We’ll have to see how he responds to the medication.”

“So he could be all right,” Angela said hopefully.

“I don’t want to make any promises I can’t keep,” the doctor said. “The next twenty-four hours will be telling.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Celia said.

“I’ll check on him again later. In the meantime, one visitor at a time, please.”

As the doctor left the room, Nick came in, his eyes seeking out Sam.

She got up and went to him, leading him into the hallway.

He put his arms around her. “I got here as fast as I could. I was in a meeting.”

“Glad to see you.” With her face pressed to his muscular chest she brought him up to date on her father’s condition.

“God, it happened so fast,” he said.

“I know.”

“I was thinking I should call Scotty and let him know we might have to postpone the trip.” Nick had befriended the adorable twelve-year-old in a state home for children in Richmond, and the boy had since become a close friend of theirs. In fact, before their wedding, Sam and Nick had discussed the idea of adopting Scotty, who they’d both come to love. Sam’s wedding gift to Nick had been tickets to opening day at Fenway Park in Boston for him and Scotty who, like Nick, was a huge Boston Red Sox fan.

“You can’t disappoint him,” Sam said. “My dad helped me get the tickets. He’d want you to go.”

“I can’t leave you with this going on.”

“I’ll be all right. I’ve got Celia and my sisters. Freddie will stay close. It’s okay. Really.”

Nick released a deep sigh. “Let’s see what tomorrow brings.”

Sam’s eyes burned with tears she fought to contain. Blubbering all over her husband wasn’t going to make her father any better. “Are you still going to talk to Scotty this weekend?” While on their honeymoon, they’d agreed that Nick would broach the subject of Scotty coming to live with them during the Boston trip.

“I was planning to, but we’ll see what’s going on.”

She knew he meant with her father. Everything was on hold until Skip recovered.

Nick tightened his arms around her. “Whatever happens, Sam, I’m here. I’m right here.”

She’d managed to contain the tears until he said that.

He kissed her forehead. “It’ll be okay, babe.”

While she’d never be ready to lose her dad, knowing Nick would be by her side somehow made this awful situation a little more bearable.

Jeannie went through the Tyler Fitzgerald file page by page. Skip Holland’s notes were thorough and detailed. He’d interviewed people who’d known the seven-year-old and his family, who’d frequented the school playground where he’d vanished on a Saturday night in June of 1986 and children who’d attended second grade with the boy. Jeannie read every word on every report. The family’s heartbreak was palpable, and her own heart ached imagining what they’d been through in the ten days from when he went missing until his body was found in a Maryland landfill. There were photos of the adorable child from before and after his death and a medical examiner’s report that detailed death by asphyxiation.

Skip had included articles from Washington newspapers and from papers around the country that had picked up the story that summer. Immersing herself in the file helped to keep her mind off her own troubles. For that she had to give her lieutenant credit. Coming back to work had been a good move.

“I heard you were here,” a familiar voice said.

Jeannie looked up at the smiling face of her partner, Detective Will Tyrone. Tall with close-cropped blond hair, a muscular physique and a sweet baby face, Will too had been a pillar of strength in the dark days after the attack.

“Hey there,” Jeannie said. “What’re you doing here?” They normally worked third shift, 11:00 p.m. to 7:00 a.m.

“The LT has had me on days lately.”

“Who’ve you been partnering up with?”

“Cruz while she was on vacation, but now I’m not sure. Are you back to stay?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m taking it an hour at a time.”

Will grabbed a stray chair from another cubicle and straddled it. “What’re you doing?”

Jeannie explained about the Fitzgerald case and how Sam had asked her to take a fresh look at it.

“Can I help?”

“Actually, I was thinking I’d like to talk to the parents, but I don’t have my car.”

“I can take you.”

“That’d be great. Thanks.” She reached for a notebook in her bottom drawer and ran a hand over her hair to make sure it was under control. “Just let me tell Gonzo. Sam left him in charge of me.”

“Before we go…”

Jeannie took a closer look at his tormented expression. “What is it?”

“I want you to know I can’t stop thinking about that day, about whether there was something I could’ve done to change what happened.”

Seeing him so distraught saddened her. “It wasn’t your fault, Will. We’d gone our separate ways. There was nothing you could’ve done.” She put a hand on his forearm. “I’ve come to the conclusion that this happened to me for a reason. I don’t know why yet, but I hope down the road at some point it’ll become clear to me.”