SAM SAW HER dad out and then went to check on the kids, who were playing a game of Candy Land with Shelby at the table. “Where’d that come from?”
“Tracy brought it with the clothes.”
“Who’s winning?”
“Alden,” Aubrey said. “He just sent Shelby all the way back to the beginning.”
Shelby pretended to glower at him, and Alden laughed. The joyful noise was the best thing Sam had heard all day. Then she remembered what was ahead for Alden and his sister, and her heart began to ache for them again.
“Hey, guys, I was thinking you might want to take a little rest since you were up so late last night.”
“That’s a really good idea,” Shelby said. “There’s been some yawning during the game.”
“Can we finish the game later?” Aubrey asked.
“I’ll make sure no one touches it,” Shelby said.
“Okay.”
Sam and Shelby took them upstairs and got them settled in the room Nick had made up for them the night before.
“Can we go in Scotty’s room?” Aubrey asked.
“Not this time,” Sam said. “He’ll be home from school soon, and he needs to do his homework, but I’m sure he’ll want you to come see him when you wake up.”
They tucked in the kids and drew the blinds to darken the room.
“We’ll be right downstairs if you need us,” Sam said, leaving the door partly open so they could hear the kids if need be.
Their little faces looked particularly tiny in the big bed, and Sam’s eyes welled with tears as she left the room and leaned against a wall to gather herself.
“I feel the same way,” Shelby whispered. “It’s unbearable.”
Sam took a step toward Shelby, who had moved to hug Sam.
They pulled back from each other a minute later, wiping their faces and laughing at themselves.
“We’re a hot mess,” Shelby said.
“This is why my dad is always telling me not to bring my work home.”
“You did the right thing. Those babies needed us, even if it’s only temporary.”
“Keep telling me that when I have to let them go.”
“I will if you do the same for me.”
“It’s a deal.”
The portable baby monitor attached to Shelby’s pocket came to life with a little cry from baby Noah. “One nap ends as the other begins.” They walked downstairs together. “What’s the plan for telling the kids about the parents?”
“We’ll do it after their brother gets here from New Jersey.”
“I’ll stay if you think it would help. I can have Avery pick up Noah.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I’d like to be there, if you don’t mind.”
“I’d actually appreciate it, but I didn’t want to ask.”
“I’ll do whatever I can to make this easier on them. Please feel free to ask for whatever you need.”
“Thanks, Shelby. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem. My colleague from the shop got waylaid by a bridezilla, but she said she’ll be here soon with the clothes I asked her to pick up for the kids. Just to make sure they have what they need wherever they end up.”
“The mother’s family doesn’t want them. What do you suppose will become of them?”
“How could their family not want them?”
“They were living under a threat from a former associate. Cleo’s family believes he’s responsible for their deaths. Hell, everyone thinks so. Cleo’s mom said they can’t live like that anymore. Neither she nor the aunt I talked to even asked about the kids.”
“Unreal. They’re family. How do you turn your back on two innocent five-year-old kids? There is nothing—and I do mean nothing—that would keep me from taking my sisters’ kids if the need ever arose, God forbid.”
“Same. I don’t get it, but we aren’t the kind of people to let fear drive us.”
“Well, you’re not,” Shelby said. “I’m afraid of my own shadow.”
Sam laughed at that. “I worry all the time about something happening to him.” She nodded toward the dining room where Nick was still sequestered with his team and Harry. “Especially when he’s far away.”
“He’s surrounded by the best security in the world.”
“I still worry. So many people love him, but those who don’t, really don’t.”
“He wouldn’t want you to worry about him.”
Sam smiled. No, he wouldn’t, but she did anyway, the same way he worried about her.
The front door opened to admit Scotty with his Secret Service detail in tow.
“Are they still here?” he asked when he spotted Sam and Shelby.
Sam knew exactly what he was asking. “They are. They’re taking a little nap right now, and their older brother is due to arrive later.”
“Will you have to tell them then? About their parents?”
Sam nodded, slipped an arm around him and kissed the top of his head. He’d brought the scent of fresh air in with him. “Yeah, buddy.”
“I should be there when you tell them. I’ve been through it myself. I understand better than anyone what it’s like to lose the most important people in your life when you’re way too young to understand it.”
Struck by his maturity and insight, she hugged him tighter as Shelby dabbed subtly at her eyes. “You’re absolutely right. We’d appreciate your help when we tell them.”
“How about a snack?” Shelby asked.
“Do we still have the brownies you made yesterday or did Mom eat them all while she worked from home?” he asked with a cheeky grin for Sam, who play-punched him.
“I didn’t touch them!”
“I hid them for you,” Shelby said, hearing Noah begin to chatter in earnest through the monitor. “Let’s go get Noah up and find the brownies.”
“I want to get Noah.” Scotty dropped his backpack and took off toward the kitchen with Shelby right behind him.
Smiling, Sam picked up his backpack and marveled at the weight of it. “What the hell is in here? Rocks?” She put it by the stairs just as the dining room doors opened and Nick came out with Harry.
“Did I hear Scotty?” Nick asked.
“Yep.” Sam gestured to the kitchen. “He went after Noah and brownies—in that order. How was your meeting?”
“Very good,” Nick said. “Meet the vice president’s new personal physician.”
“I thought you already were his personal physician?” Sam asked Harry.
“I was, or I should say I am. Now, however, I get to travel with him.” Harry waggled his brows. “It’s all official and stuff.”
“That’s cool,” Sam said, strangely comforted to know that Harry would be with Nick whenever he traveled on official business. “So you’ll make sure he doesn’t get poisoned or anything?”
Nick’s eyes bugged. “What’re you talking about? I’m not going to be poisoned.”
“Harry? If something like that happened, you’d know what to do?”
“I’d know what to do.”
“And you’d do anything to keep him safe?”
“Anything and everything possible.”
“Then I approve of you being his official physician.”
“I’m still in the room, you know,” Nick said dryly.
“I’m not talking to you,” Sam said. “I’m conferring with your personal physician.”
“Why do I feel like I’ve made a huge mistake here?” Nick muttered.
Harry laughed and kissed her cheek. “Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll take good care of him. I’ve got to run, but I’ll see you at the wedding.”
“I’ll be the one standing next to the groom,” Sam said.
“What the hell was he thinking?”
“I’ve made sure he’s asked himself that every day since he was stupid enough to ask me.”
Harry was still laughing when the Secret Service let him out.
“You’re worried I’m going to be poisoned?” Nick asked when they were alone—or as alone as they ever were in the public spaces of their home these days. “This is new.”
“It was just a thought that occurred to me when I was talking to my dad earlier.”
“Your imagination has run away with you, babe.”
“You’re saying it can’t happen?”
“I’m saying it won’t happen. I don’t want you worrying about stuff like that when I’m away.”
“I worry about a staggering array of things while you’re away.”
“Samantha,” he said, sliding his arms around her and nuzzling her neck. “Don’t. I promise you have nothing to worry about.”
“You can’t promise that, and you shouldn’t promise things that’re out of your control.”
“I have to go back in there and finish up with Terry. But we’re going to talk about this later, you hear me?”
“Yes, dear.”
He kissed her. “Let me go say hi to my boy real quick.”
“You have to hear what he said about Aubrey and Alden.” Sam filled him in and watched the emotion of Scotty’s statement register in the way Nick’s face softened.
“That’s really amazing,” he said. “I hate that he lost his mother and grandfather so young.”
“I know.”
He kissed her again and went into the kitchen to see Scotty.
Sam watched him go, her stomach twisting with anxiety. Even though he’d shortened the duration, she wished he didn’t have to take the trip at all.
* * *
WITH AN HOUR until they had to report in at Sam’s, Freddie and Jeannie hunted down Emma Knoff, head of the PTO at Northwest Academy. After checking to see if she was at the school, they were told they could find her at her home in The Palisades neighborhood on the city’s far western border. The neighborhood was tucked between the Potomac River and Georgetown University.
“Of course, it had to be way the hell out here,” Freddie grumbled. They’d have to battle traffic across the city to get to Sam’s and then he’d have to come back this way to go home.
“This is where the one percent live,” Jeannie said, taking in the massive house that had to be at least five thousand square feet. “What do people do with all that space?”
“I’d imagine they spread out,” Freddie said, ringing the doorbell that chimed through the house like bells in a cathedral. “Sam always says that rich people have the craziest doorbells.”
“That noise would scare the crap out of me.”
A middle-aged woman came to the door, wearing yoga pants and a sweatshirt. “Yes?”
Freddie showed his badge while Jeannie did the same. “Detectives Cruz and McBride for Mrs. Knoff, please.”
She glanced between their badges. “Wait,” she said, closing the door.
“Friendly,” Freddie said.
“People are always so happy to see us,” Jeannie said, her tone tinged with sarcasm.
“We’re nice people.”
“Try telling them that,” she said, nodding toward the door.
Freddie rang the bell again. “Sam would give them a lecture about wasting our time.”
“You should do it. She’d be so proud.”
He rang the bell again.
A blonde woman came rushing from the back of the house and opened the door, seeming out of breath. “I’m so sorry. I was on a call, and Frieda just told me you were here. I’m Emma Knoff. What can I do for you?”
Freddie wanted to ask if she was deaf, because she’d have to be not to hear that doorbell. He produced his badge and introduced himself and Jeannie. “May we have a few minutes of your time?”
“Is this about Cleo? It’s such a tragedy! And the children. Are they all right? No one seems to know where they are.”
“Mrs. Knoff,” Freddie said, running out of patience. “May we come in?”
“Oh yes, of course. Please come in. I’m so sorry. This day has just been... It’s been awful. We’re organizing a fund-raiser for the children and trying to do what we can to help. I’m just heartbroken.”
Behind her back, Jeannie rolled her eyes at Freddie.
They were led into a formal living room. “May I get you something? Coffee or other refreshments?”
“No, thank you,” Freddie said. “This isn’t a social call, unfortunately.”
“I’m sure you’re very busy at a time like this. I heard the vice president’s wife was investigating the case. Do you work with her?”
“We do,” Freddie said. In the back of his mind, he could hear Sam’s voice telling him to take control of this interview—and do it now. “Mrs. Knoff, our investigation has found there was no love lost, for lack of a better way to put it, between you and Cleo Beauclair.”
Emma’s mouth fell open and then snapped shut, her eyes flashing with what could only be called rage. “Who said that?”
“We’ve heard it from multiple sources. Can you please describe your relationship with Mrs. Beauclair?”
“I’m just...” She shook her head. “I’m so sorry. I’m stunned to hear that anyone would describe my relationship with Cleo as less than cordial.”
Freddie wanted to groan with frustration. “I understand, but that is in fact how it was described to us. If you’re unable or unwilling to answer our questions here, we’d be happy to take you downtown for a formal interview.”
“Are you saying I’m a suspect?”
“I’m saying we have questions, and either you’re willing to answer them, or we’ll make you our guest at the city jail,” Freddie said. “Is that clear?”
“Y-yes,” she said, the slight stammer a welcome hint of humility. “What do you want to know?”
“How would you describe your relationship with Cleo Beauclair?” he asked. “And I’d advise you to be honest with us. There’s nothing we dislike more than people who waste our time.”
“If I’m being honest,” she said, haltingly, “I’d have to say I didn’t like her very much.”
Now we’re getting somewhere, Freddie thought, as he took notes. “And why was that?”
“Who did she think she was coming into my school and trying to turn herself into volunteer of the year? I’m the PTO president. I decide who does what and when, not her. And what’s with her never leaving the building while her children were there? Who does that?”
“She did,” Jeannie said. “And I guess I wonder why it would matter to you if she wasn’t asking you to do the same.”
“It’s just not done,” Emma said, her glare frosty. “New mothers don’t come into the school and take over the volunteer positions. That’s not how it works.”
“Most people would be thrilled to have the extra help,” Jeannie said.
“I wasn’t,” she snapped back.
“Were you angry enough to kill her?” Freddie asked.
Emma’s face went completely white before it turned bright red, the entire cycle occurring within seconds. “Absolutely not! Ask anyone who knows me! I wouldn’t harm a fly!”
“What the hell is going on here?” A good-looking man came into the room wearing a three-thousand-dollar suit and a frown on his face. He was the picture of success and good fortune, from his styled hair to his Italian shoes.
“Oh, Cal,” she said, jumping up to hug him. “Thank goodness you’re here. These detectives had the gall to ask if I killed Cleo Beauclair. Can you imagine such a thing?”
“Are you accusing my wife of a crime?” he asked.
“Not at this time.”
“Then I’ll need you to leave my house. If you wish to speak to her again, you’ll do so only with an attorney present.”
Without another word, Freddie and Jeannie stood and headed for the front door.
Behind him, Freddie heard Emma say, “That’s it? They’re just going to leave after accusing me of murder?”
“Shut up, Emma,” the husband said. “Just shut your mouth.”
Freddie closed the door and took a deep breath of the fresh air.
“Holy shit,” Jeannie muttered. “That was intense.”
“I don’t know about you, but I’d like to request an interview with her downtown just to give those people a dose of humility.”
“Right there with you.”
“It sure would be fun to make her twist in the wind.”
“Yes,” Jeannie said, laughing. “It will be. And PS, Sam would’ve been proud of you back there. You were awesome.”
“Oh thanks. She’s always in my head, for better or worse.”
“I’d say it’s for better—most of the time anyway.”
“Except until I want to unleash a string of profanity. Then it’s not so good.”
“Such as shit, fuck, damn, hell?” Jeannie asked, referring to one of Sam’s favorite sayings.
“Yes, that. Exactly that.” They got in Freddie’s car and started battling their way through late-day traffic on the way to Sam’s house.
“Ugh, this traffic,” Jeannie said. “This is why people say things like shit, fuck, damn, hell.”
Freddie laughed. “Seriously.”
“Could I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“What’s going on with Gonzo?”
“I wish I knew. Whatever it is, it’s not good.”
“Not good at all,” Jeannie said with a sigh.
“Christina called me this morning and asked me to come by after work and pick up the bags she’d packed for him.”
“Ahh, crap.”
“That’s what I said too. I tried to talk to her, but she wasn’t having it.”
“What do you suppose this means for Alex?” Jeannie asked.
“I don’t know, but I really hope they aren’t going to end up fighting over him, because that would truly suck.”
“Yeah, for sure.”
* * *
WHEN DR. ANDERSON came through on afternoon rounds, Gonzo demanded to be released from the room they’d taken him to after they’d admitted him. “I’m totally fine, and while I’m sitting on my ass in here, my life is falling apart.” When he’d had the room to himself, he’d gotten up to find his jacket in the closet and had taken a pill that had gone a long way toward calming his nerves and settling the relentless pain.
He’d overdone it with the meds yesterday. That’s all it was. He wouldn’t do that again. He’d take just enough to keep the pain manageable but not so much that he blacked out or half killed himself looking for relief. As bad as he felt—and he felt pretty damned bad most of the time—he didn’t actually want to die. He wanted to watch Alex grow up and become a man. His son needed a father, and Gonzo was determined to be there for him.
So he only took one pill when he really, really wanted two.
Anderson checked Gonzo’s chart, listened to his heart and sat on the stool next to the bed to type notes into the computer. “I’m not going to lie to you, Sarge. I’m worried about you, and for the record, I don’t believe one word you said to me yesterday.” When Gonzo started to object, the doctor held up his hand to stop him. “As you well know, the opioid epidemic is out of control. We see it every day in here. I know what it looks like, and it looks just like this.”
He gestured to Gonzo. “A professional guy who has his shit together until he suffers some sort of injury that requires pain meds. Suddenly, the pain meds are essential, and the perfectly healthy person can’t do without them. Couple that with the tragedy you suffered earlier this year, and you’ve got a recipe for disaster.”
“I’m not hooked on anything, Doc. You’ve got it all wrong.”
“Maybe I do. But if you don’t mind giving me five more minutes of your time, let me tell you where it goes from here. Soon enough, whatever you’re taking isn’t going to be strong enough to feed the beast. That’s when you’ll turn to heroin.”
Gonzo recoiled. “I would never touch that shit. Come on, Doc. I’m a cop, for Christ’s sake. I know what happens to people who get hooked on that crap. That’s not going to be me.”
As if Gonzo hadn’t spoken, the doctor continued. “When heroin doesn’t do it for you anymore, that’s when you’ll go looking for fentanyl. And that shit... That shit makes heroin look like aspirin, and it will kill you. We’re losing people just like you to fentanyl every single day. If you think it can’t happen to you, think again. If you stay on the current path, it will happen to you. The best thing you can do for yourself is ask for whatever help you need. Get help. If you don’t want to end up dead, get help. I promise you this isn’t going to end well if you don’t stop it right now.”
“I know all this,” Gonzo said, his teeth gritted. “I’ve had the training at work.”
“And I haven’t even mentioned the career you’ve worked so hard for,” Anderson said, again as if Gonzo hadn’t spoken. “If you’re scoring heroin or fentanyl or anything else that’s not prescribed for you by a doctor, you’re risking your badge, and you damned well know that. You’ve had the training. You know better than most people that this is a path that ends in the morgue. Is that what you want for your kid? A father who OD’d and left him to fend for himself in this world? What about that really pretty girlfriend of yours? You think she’s going to be sitting on her ass at home waiting for you to get your shit together? A woman who looks like her, who takes care of your son the way she does—she’s not going to be on the market for long. You want some other guy raising your kid and loving your girl? That’s where this is heading, Tommy. That’s the only place this is heading—you dead and the two people you love best going on without you. But hey, if that’s what you want, far be it from me to get in your way.”
Anderson scrawled his signature across the bottom of a piece of paper, took it off the clipboard and handed it to Gonzo. “Your walking papers.”
Gonzo stared at the stark white paper as an image of Christina and Alex with another man—a nameless, faceless guy walking between the two of them, holding hands with them—appeared in vivid detail. The man wasn’t him. He’d been replaced. Someone else was raising Alex in the scenario he could see so clearly it made his heart ache with agony. They were in a park, and Alex was laughing and talking. To someone else. A stranger. A stranger who Alex would love because he’d be the only father the child would ever know. He wouldn’t remember his real father.
In all the words that had been thrown his way in the last twenty-four hours, those were the ones that finally got his attention. The thought of Alex growing up without him, calling another man Dad. That was truly unbearable to him.
“Tommy? You’re free to go.”
“I...” His heart raced, and the pain lanced through him like a live wire, stealing the breath from his lungs. “I think I need help.”