“That’s on the docket for today.” She fiddled with her mug for a moment before she glanced over at him again. “I heard yesterday that it’s possible Peter could get sprung.”
Her father and Celia gasped.
“You can’t be serious,” Celia said.
Sam told them what she knew, even though she hated to upset them. It was all part of her new effort to be more forthright with the people she loved. “Nick’s going to talk to Forrester,” she said, referring to the U.S. Attorney. “But I told him not to stick his neck too far out. He needs to be thinking about his campaign.”
“He needs to be making phone calls,” Skip said emphatically. “Maybe he can do something to stop this insanity.”
“Since when do you believe in taking advantage of friends in high places?” Sam asked in an attempt to lighten the mood.
“Since the monster who tried to murder my little girl might get sprung from jail.”
“Let’s try not to think about it until we have to,” Sam said, touched by his fiercely spoken words. “That’s what I’m trying to do.”
Celia patted her shoulder. “Probably easier said than done, honey.”
“I’m sure Farnsworth and Malone are doing all they can from their end,” Skip said.
“They are.” Anxious to end the discussion about one of her least favorite subjects, Sam stood up and bent to kiss her dad’s forehead. “I gotta hit it.”
“Let me know if I can help.”
“I’ll probably be back later to run through it with you. Don’t know enough yet.”
“I’ll be here.”
Sam smiled. “Counting on that.” She glanced around at the homey kitchen and was swamped with relief at knowing her gravely injured father had someone who genuinely loved him overseeing his care. It freed Sam to dare to have a life of her own. For the first time in the two years since he was shot by an unknown assailant during a routine traffic stop gone bad, Sam was able to stop worrying constantly about him. “So Nick’s making noise about me officially moving down the street.”
“Probably time,” Skip said.
“I guess so. Especially since we’ve set a wedding date.” Sam still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to this.
“Is that so?” Celia said, clapping her hands together with glee. “When?”
“Um, March 26.”
“
This year?
” Skip and Celia said in stereo.
“It’s all his idea. He’s convinced it’s no big deal.”
“Oh my goodness!” Celia said. “We have to get going right away!”
“Nick said something about hiring someone to deal with all the details.” Sam hoped her bold-faced lie wouldn’t be obvious to them. As much as Sam loved her new stepmother, no way was Celia getting her hands on this wedding.
No way
. “We’ll probably go that route.” No doubt he knew someone who could make it all go away for them. She wondered why they hadn’t thought of it sooner. “Well, I’m off. See you later.”
“Let us know how we can help with the wedding,” Celia called after her.
“You’ll be the first to know,” Sam said, scooting out the front door and taking her guilty conscience with her.
Sam scanned the faces of the detectives gathered in the conference room to go over the facts of the de Castro and Espanosa cases. Some of them looked like they had Monday morning-itis, especially Cruz, who was yawning his head off, and Gonzales, who seemed totally preoccupied. She hated that she was going to have to tell three of her loyal detectives about the situation with Peter Gibson, but she couldn’t let them hear about it through a grapevine that was no doubt already buzzing with the news.
After she ran through what they knew so far on the current cases, Sam handed out assignments and sent the others on their way. “Detectives Cruz, Gonzales and Arnold,” she said. “A minute of your time, please?”
They stopped and waited until the others left the room.
“Shut the door,” Sam said.
They exchanged nervous glances.
“What’s up, L.T.?” Cruz asked.
“Yesterday I received word that Peter Gibson’s attorney has requested a hearing to determine whether the evidence collected at Gibson’s apartment was fruit of the poisonous tree because you went in without a warrant.”
As she expected, they erupted in protest.
Sam held up her hands to stop them. “I know exactly how it went down, and I would’ve done it the same way. We had every reason to believe he was involved.”
“Except at that time we only had suspicion,” Gonzo said. “Not solid proof.”
“Yes.” Sam was not at all surprised that he was the first to figure out what Gibson’s attorney was using to force the hearing. “I want to be clear on this—no matter what happens, I don’t blame you, and I don’t want you to blame yourselves. We were all operating on adrenaline and high emotion that day. I appreciate how fast you all worked to find him and bring him in.”
“It sounds like we worked
too
fast,” Cruz mumbled, clearly undone by the news.
“Maybe so, but let’s wait to see what the judge has to say before we jump to any conclusions. In the meantime, we have two vics who need our full attention right now, so let’s keep our focus where it needs to be.”
With muttered agreements, they headed for the door, shoulders stooped and heads down. Sam hated to see them like that. “Detective Gonzales, one more minute, please?”
After Cruz and Arnold stepped out, Sam took another long look at Gonzo’s face, concerned by the unusual pallor. “Are you feeling better today?”
“Yeah. Sorry about yesterday. Something came up that I had to deal with.”
“And everything’s all right now?”
He hesitated. “It will be. I hope.”
“Anything I can do?”
Once again he hesitated, and she realized he was tormented over something. “Gonzo, what is it? What’s going on?” She really,
really
hoped he wasn’t going to say that things weren’t going well with Christina. Sam truly did not want to hear the details of their romance. She already had her hands full enough with Cruz’s romantic troubles.
Gonzo looked so tortured that Sam experienced a pang of fear. “Sit.” She gestured to a chair and took the one next to him. “Talk.”
He dropped into the chair and released a deep sigh. “It seems that I have a son.”
She stared at him. “
Whoa
.”
“That’s what I said too.” He filled her in on what he knew as well as the steps he was taking to confirm paternity and file for custody. “I hope it’s okay that Christina set me up with Nick’s lawyer friend Andy. He specializes in family law. I know I should have called you first.”
“Of course it’s okay,” Sam said. “That’s exactly what you should’ve done. What do we know about the mother and her boyfriend?”
“Nothing about him, except he looks like a biker dude. Tattoos everywhere. Leather, the works. Doesn’t make him a criminal, but I caught a bad vibe from him.”
“If I’m you, my first order of business is to get a last name on him and run them both to see if they have priors.”
“Except I’m not supposed to use department resources for personal matters.”
“Of course your superior officer never made this suggestion and you never told her you planned to use department resources for personal matters.”
“Of course.” A hint of a smile graced his face. “I won’t let this affect my work. Don’t worry.”
“Never crossed my mind that you would. Let me know what I can do to help.”
“Thanks. I’d appreciate you keeping this between us for now. Until I know for sure he’s mine…”
“I understand.”
He got up, seeming somewhat relieved to have shared his burden. “Thanks, L.T.”
“Any time.”
“This thing with Gibson…if he gets sprung, it’s on me. I should’ve known better—”
“Don’t,” Sam said. She had expected nothing less from him as the most senior detective on the scene that night at Gibson’s apartment. “Don’t take this on. There were three of you there, and I knew what you were going there to do. Even my dad and Malone were aware of it. Any of us could’ve stopped you just as easily as you could have stopped it. We can’t rewrite history. We can only go forward from here.”
“How are you staying so calm about this?”
“Compartmentalization. You oughta try it.”
“I suppose that’s as good a plan as any. I still can’t believe everything that’s happened this weekend.”
“Hang in there, and let me know what I can do to help you.”
“Thanks.”
On the way to reinterview JoAnn Smithson, Sam called Nick. “So color me crazy,” she said when he answered. “But I had what might be my most brilliant idea ever this morning.”
He snickered. “Can’t wait to hear this one.”
“You won’t be laughing when you hear my idea. You’ll be basking in my brilliance.”
In the passenger seat, Freddie made barfing noises.
Sam shot him a glare.
“I’m breathless with anticipation,” Nick said.
“Good. I like you that way. What do you say we hire someone to make all this wedding crap go away?”
“Hire someone? To plan
our
wedding?”
“Yes, exactly. They can figure out the where, the what, the how. We’ll do the who and the clothes and the personal stuff.”
“I don’t know, Sam. How do we turn something that important and personal over to a total stranger?”
“How about we turn over the most important day of our lives to a trained professional who can tell us exactly what to do so we can just show up and get married without all the stress and aggravation of trying to plan it ourselves?”
“When you put it that way…do you know any of these people who magically make weddings happen?”
“No, but I’m sure you do.”
“I can assure you that I don’t. You’ll recall that this is my first rodeo.”
“Oh, come on. With that network of yours, someone knows someone who knows someone. Put the word out, and you’ll have a dozen people clamoring for the job by the end of the day.”
“You aren’t seriously suggesting I make use of our newfound notoriety, are you?”
“Maybe I am. For once it might actually benefit us.”
“All right. If you’re sure you want to go that route, I’ll look into it.”
“Good. Thank you. I promise this will keep us from losing our minds over the next six weeks.”
“Speaking of losing our minds, I just got off the phone with Forrester.”
At the reference to the U.S. Attorney, Sam’s good mood dissipated. “And?”
“After he chastised me for abusing my office, he let me know that he wasn’t inclined to do the police any favors.”
“Isn’t he a Republican?”
“Gee, how’d you guess?”
“Well, thanks for trying.”
“I’ve got a few other irons in the fire.”
“Seriously, Nick, don’t set yourself up for trouble over this. He’s not worth it.”
“Don’t worry about me, Samantha.”
“I
am
worried about you doing something on my behalf that causes you political trouble. We don’t need that on top of everything else.”
“I hear ya, babe, but I’ve got to run. Committee meeting in ten.”
“Talk to you later.”
“Be careful out there.”
“Always am.” Sam pulled into the parking lot at the Capitol Cleaning Services’ office and cut the engine.
“Good idea on the wedding planner,” Freddie said.
“I’m glad you approve. I have another brilliant idea I wanted to run by you.”
“And what’s that?”
“Have a dinner party for your mother and Elin. Give them a chance to spend time together in a relaxed setting.”
“Are you really helping me with this problem when I’ve caused such a huge problem for you?”
“How do you figure? What problem did you cause for me?”
“Hello? Gibson? I can’t
freaking believe
he might get sprung.”
“I’ll tell you the same thing I told Gonzo—it’s not your fault. I was aware of what you were doing, my dad and Malone were aware of it. None of us stopped you.”
“We should’ve waited for the warrant.”
“Maybe so, but you had good reason to believe he had bomb-making supplies in there. I can’t say I would’ve waited either.”
“Sam, if he gets out—”
She held up her hand to stop him. “
If
he gets out, I’ll deal with it then. I don’t have to deal with it now.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, his expression rife with regret and dismay. “I feel so awful about this. I wanted to nail him so badly.”
“We all did. So let’s talk about this dinner party you’re going to have.”
She watched him make an attempt to rally past his worries about Gibson getting sprung. “I thought you didn’t approve of her any more than my mother does.”
“I don’t disapprove of her. I just wonder if she’s right for you.”
“But you’re still offering me advice?”
“You say she is what
you
want. I’m trying to respect that.” Sam got out of the car. “Take or leave the dinner idea.”
“It’s not a
bad
idea.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“We’re in the middle of a case. When do you propose I have this dinner?”
“Today’s Monday,” Sam said, thinking it out. “Aim for Friday. We should have this wrapped up by then.”
He followed her into the office building. “And if we don’t?”
“Then I’ll still give you the night off.”
“And the night before to get ready?”
Sam scowled at him. “The night before too.”
“In that case, I accept your idea and the time off.”
“How did that just backfire on me?” Sam asked.
Freddie laughed. “I’ve learned from the best.”
In JoAnn Smithson’s outer office, Sam and Freddie found the older woman huddled with several colleagues. They were all in tears.
“Oh,” Mrs. Smithson said when she saw them. “Detectives! Someone is killing my employees! I don’t understand.”
“Try to calm down, Mrs. Smithson,” Sam said. “We’re doing everything we can to find the person who killed them.” Leading her away from the other women, Sam said, “I need a list of all your employees—their names, addresses, immigration status and anything else about them you can tell us that might be relevant.”
“I can’t give you personal information about my employees.”
“Do you want it on your conscience when another of them ends up dead?”
Mrs. Smithson wiped tears from her cheeks. “Of course not.”
“Then cooperate with our investigation so we can make sure no one else gets hurt.”
“I’ll need a few minutes to print the list for you.”
“We’ll wait.”
She scurried off.
“I was thinking,” Freddie said, “that we might also want to match up that list to the offices they cleaned and see if there are any patterns.”
“That’s good thinking. Tell Mrs. Smithson to add that to the info she’s getting for us.”
“You got it, boss.”
Since she had a few minutes to kill, Sam called Lindsey. “What’ve you got, Doc?”
“Another pregnant victim.”
“You don’t say.”
“Fifteen weeks.”
“Jesus. What the hell is going on here?”
“I have no idea,” Lindsey said. “But I have full confidence that you’ll figure it out.”
“What else did you find?”
“Semen from only one man this time. You know, it occurs to me that this guy must be one arrogant SOB.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Indulge me for a minute here.”
Sam glanced over at the office full of women hard at work on her request. Freddie was overseeing them. “I’ve got a minute.”
“So if I’m a guy who’s going to rape and murder women, I think I’d take the time to suit up so I wouldn’t leave my calling card behind. My guess is we’re looking for someone who never thinks for
one second
that he’s ever going to get caught. Like he’s above such menial things such as criminal justice.”
“It’s a good theory,” Sam acknowledged. “What I need from you now is confirmation that the DNA from Maria matches guy number two from Regina.”
“Running it now. I’ll get back to you as soon as I know for sure.”
“Great, thanks.” Sam ended the call as Freddie rejoined her with the list she’d requested from Mrs. Smithson. “Let’s stop at City Hall and figure out who Regina was married to. After we talk to him, we’ll start with the immigrants and go from there. For whatever reason, he’s targeting them.”
“I’m with you, boss.”
Sam waited impatiently for the City Hall clerk to pull Regina’s marriage license. “You’d think they’d have all this crap on computers by now,” she muttered to Freddie.
“You’d think.”
The clerk returned a few minutes later, carrying a binder. “Here we go.” She put the book down on the counter and turned it so Sam and Freddie could read the copy of the license.
“Seamus O’Grady,” Freddie said as he wrote down the name.
“Call it in. Let’s see if he’s in the system.” While he was on the phone, they returned to the car.
“Got a hit,” he said. “A B&E charge from four years ago. He’s on probation.”
“Finally, a break,” Sam said. A call to O’Grady’s probation officer yielded his place of business, a restaurant on Massachusetts Avenue. “Let’s go.”
They double-parked outside the restaurant and showed their badges inside. One of the waitresses pointed to the kitchen where they found Seamus working the grill. Medium height and build, he had red hair and blue eyes.