“I’ll be here.”
“Counting on it.”
“Right back atcha. Be careful.”
Gonzo sat in the courtroom wishing he’d had time to go home and change. In a room full of suits, he felt woefully underdressed in the jeans and pullover sweater he’d worn to work. Even though the room was warm, he kept his black leather jacket on because it made him feel more dressed up. He had, however, unzipped the jacket so the gold shield clipped to his belt was visible. That had to count for something, right?
Looking harried, Andy rushed into the courtroom and joined Gonzo in the gallery’s front row. Lori and Rex walked in a minute later and the glare she directed his way was sharp enough to cut glass. After noting that Rex had dressed up for court by removing his bandana, Gonzo looked away from them. She wasn’t his problem. No, the baby who arrived in the arms of a woman wearing a suit had Gonzo’s full attention. Under the woman’s arm was a manila file folder. A yellow diaper bag hung from her shoulder.
Lori cried out when she saw the baby, and Rex held her back as she dissolved into tears.
Gonzo rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans.
A few minutes later the judge entered the chambers and court was called to order. Feeling like he was watching a movie rather than a scene from his own life, Gonzo observed the proceedings with an odd sense of detachment. Surely all this talk about competency and best interests of the child and other legalese was making sense to someone because a lot of it was lost on him. The judge thoroughly quizzed the social worker about the condition of Lori’s home as well as her criminal record and Rex’s.
Lori’s attorney stood up. “Your honor, may I please address the court?”
“No. Sit down.”
Andy surged to his feet. “Your honor, Andrew Simone, representing Detective Thomas Gonzales, the child’s father.”
“Detective, please approach the bench.” The judge gave no indication they had ever met before.
Andy nodded at him to go ahead and followed him to the front of the courtroom.
“Is it my understanding,” the judge said, “that you had no knowledge of the child until this past weekend?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
The judge glanced at Lori, who was quietly weeping as Rex kept an arm around her.
“And you believe you could provide a loving home for the child?”
“I do, Your Honor.”
“Do you have a crib, car seat and other necessary equipment?”
“It’s being procured for me as we speak by two experienced mothers. One of them will deliver the car seat here momentarily.”
“Have you ever cared for an infant before?”
Gonzo swallowed hard. “No, Your Honor. But I’m a fast learner, and I have friends who can show me what I need to know. My parents will come too. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to ensure he has a safe, clean, comfortable home.”
The judge cast a distasteful look at Lori. “And will you see fit to give him a name?”
“Yes, Your Honor. His name would be Alejandro, after my father. Alex for short.”
The judge seemed satisfied with his answer. “I’m granting temporary custody to Detective Gonzales. Miss Avery,” he said, referring to the social worker. “Please conduct weekly visits with Detective Gonzales and report to the court. We’ll reconvene in thirty days to determine how the arrangement is working out.”
As the judge’s words registered, Gonzo couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Any moment now, he was going to wake up and discover he’d dreamed the whole thing.
Lori’s attorney once again stood up. “Your Honor, if I may, will his mother be permitted to see the baby?”
“Two hours a week, supervised,” the judge said. “Work out a schedule that suits Detective Gonzales and Miss Avery.”
“You can’t do this!” Lori screamed. “He’s
my
baby! You’re only giving him to his father because he’s a cop!”
The judge’s eyes narrowed with displeasure. “Unless you’d care to spend a few nights in the city jail, I’d suggest you contain your outbursts in my courtroom. Do you understand me?”
Through her sobs, Lori managed a nod.
“I’m giving him to his father because your home is a pigsty and frequented by criminals.”
Rex pulled her back down to her seat.
“Two hours a week. Take it or leave it.” The judge banged his gavel. “Next case.”
Just like that, it was over, and Miss Avery was handing him his son. The baby’s big eyes, so wide and trusting, gazed up at him, his lips forming that adorable pucker that Gonzo remembered from the other time he’d seen him. He held the tiny body against him, struck by just how small he was. Had he been that tiny the other day? Or did the baby seem smaller because it was now up to Gonzo to keep him safe? The enormity of the moment came down on him all at once.
Oh my God
, he thought.
How in the world am I going to do this?
“What’d you get from the mothers?” she asked Freddie by phone once she’d gotten her team started on the canvas in the Foggy Bottom neighborhood where Jeannie was abducted.
“Not much, unfortunately. Neither of the women talked to their mothers about anything other than their families, their work and their immigration status when they called home.”
“Damn it,” Sam said. “How did they explain the money?”
“Regina’s mother said she had been saving up her pay from the cleaning company—or at least that’s what Regina told her.”
“No way a seventeen-dollar-an-hour cleaning lady has an extra five grand laying around—not living in this city. What did Maria’s mother say about the money?”
“She said she didn’t know where it came from and didn’t think to ask because everyone is rich in the U.S., or so she seems to think. So what’s next?”
“Gonzo was running the phone numbers that appeared on both Regina’s and Maria’s phones. Did you get that report?”
“Not yet. The computer geeks are backed up. They promised it by the end of the day.”
Sam wanted to shout with frustration.
Didn’t these people realize she was running a homicide investigation?
“I wish to hell Farnsworth would let me test the senators for DNA.”
“That’ll never happen,” Freddie said. “Not without probable cause.”
“Then let’s get it.”
“Define ‘get it.’”
“Time to do some digging into senatorial closets.”
“Do I have to?”
“Yes, you have to. Let’s go run this one by Skip. Maybe he can help us figure out a way to do this without ending up unemployed afterward.”
“That’d be preferred. I’ll meet you there.”
“Anything yet on Nick’s phone?”
“Not yet.”
“You put a rush on it?”
“Sure did.”
Sam sighed. More delays. “Alright, I’ll see you at Skip’s.”
On the way to her father’s house, she debated whether to call Nick. She wanted so badly to know how things were going in Cleveland—and to give him a piece of her mind for calling her father about the threat. But every time she imagined Nick’s mother wanting nothing from him but his money, she ached for him. How she hoped she was wrong about that, but her gut was telling her to be worried. In the end, she decided not to call him. She’d wait to hear about it when he got home, even if the waiting was killing her.
Ignoring the patrol car that followed her, she parked on Ninth Street and took the ramp to her father’s house. With a quick knock she entered the living room to find Skip and Celia sitting in front of the TV.
“What did I tell you about knocking?” Celia asked without removing her eyes from the screen.
“I’ll do better next time,” Sam said. “What’s going on?”
“Senator Lightfeather is resigning from the Senate,” Skip said.
“Oh man,” Sam said.
“…and so I’ve decided,” Lightfeather was saying, “that I need to spend as much time as I can with my family, to repair the damage I have caused.” Next to him, his wife stood with a tight-lipped frown. The dais sported a Washington Hilton logo, so at least he hadn’t left the building where Sam had told him to stay. “As such, today I announce my resignation from the United States Senate. I have treasured every moment of the years I spent representing the people of the great state of Arizona. I thank the citizens for the faith they had in me, and I will work for the rest of my life to once again be worthy of that faith. I ask that you respect my family’s need for privacy at this difficult time.”
The moment he stepped off the stage, the network’s anchor and political analyst began speculating about Lightfeather’s association with two Capitol Cleaning Services employees who’d been murdered. “A well-placed police source tells Capitol News that Regina Argueta de Castro was expecting Lightfeather’s baby,” the analyst said.
Sam let out a shriek. “
How the hell do they know that? Goddamn it!
” She reached for her phone and called HQ. “It’s Lieutenant Holland. Put me through to the chief immediately.” When told he was in a meeting, she said, “Interrupt it.”
The chief came on the line a minute later. “Lieutenant.”
“Sorry to interrupt your meeting, but we have a leak.” She told him what she’d heard the reporter say. “I will guarantee you none of my people breathed a word of that to the media, so I want to know who this ‘well-placed’ source is.”
“So do I.”
“You might want to start with Stahl.”
“He may have it in for you personally, but he’d never squeal to the press.”
“And you’re
sure
of that?”
“Not as sure as I’d like to be. Have you seen Detective McBride today?”
“Yes. She’s hanging in there.”
“I wanted to see her or send her something, but I wasn’t sure if I should go there…”
It was so unlike him to be uncertain. “In this case, it might be best to send some flowers. A visit from the chief might be more than she can handle.”
“Then that’s what I’ll do. Keep me posted on the investigation.”
“Find that mole,” Sam said.
“On it.”
Returning the phone to her coat pocket, Sam turned to her father and stepmother.
“How’s Jeannie?” Celia asked, her pretty face etched with worry.
“As well as can be expected.”
“Did he…?”
They knew she couldn’t give them details and would never ask her to. Her silence spoke for her.
“Oh, God,” Celia said. “I was so hoping…”
“Me too.”
“What’s the status of the investigation?” Skip asked, his voice gruff. Sam had no doubt he was deeply affected by what had happened to McBride. Even as a disabled retiree, he was still one of them. Sam made sure of that, as did Farnsworth, Malone and Skip’s many other friends within the department.
“Stalled,” Sam said, falling onto the sofa. “I’m convinced we’re probably looking for a senator or someone equally powerful, but Farnsworth won’t let me request DNA without probable cause.”
“So you’re going to get it,” Skip said.
“That’s the plan.”
“You gotta be
really
careful.”
“That much I know. How do you suggest I approach it?”
Before he could answer, Sam’s cell phone rang again. She didn’t recognize the 202 number, but took the call anyway.
“Holland.”
“Darren Tabor.”
Sam suppressed a groan. “I’m
busy
, Darren.”
“I saw Detective Gonzales coming out of the courthouse with a baby in his arms. I didn’t think he had kids, so I’m smelling a story.”
While Sam was thrilled for Gonzo, who’d apparently prevailed in court, the fact that Darren knew about it wasn’t good news. “Don’t go there, Darren. Please. I’m asking you to do this for me as a personal favor.”
“That’ll mean you owe me one.”
Sam grimaced. “What do you want?”
“Tell me there’s a connection between McBride’s abduction and the dead cleaning ladies.”
“There’s a connection, but I can’t say more than that right now.”
“And when you can?”
“I’ll keep you in mind.”
“Excellent.”
“And you’ll forget about the thing with Gonzales?”
“What thing?”
Sam released a sigh of relief. “Thanks. While I have you, maybe you could do me another favor.”
“That’d put you pretty deep in the hole to me,” he said, but she could hear the laughter in his voice.
“It’d be worth owing you if you can find out where the leak about the father of Regina’s baby came from.”
“Is it true? It’s Lightfeather’s?”
“Maybe, maybe not. Either way, I’d like to know how the media got that tidbit.”
“I’ll do some sniffing around. See what I can find out.”
“Keep it down low that you’re doing it for me.”
“Lieutenant, I am nothing if not the
soul
of discretion.”
“Sure you are,” she said, chuckling. “Let me know what you hear.”
“Maybe you should program my number into your phone so you’ll have it when you need me in the future.”
“Hanging up now.”
“Where did Nick go today?” Darren asked.
Sam slapped the phone closed.
“If I didn’t know better,” Skip said, “I might think you enjoy sparring with that boy.”
“He’s not as bad as some of them.”
“He was tough on you after Johnson.”
Sam shuddered at the reminder of the child who had died in a shoot-out she’d ordered at a crack house. “He gave us a heads-up when the
Reporter
was getting ready to trash me,” she reminded her father.
“That’s true,” Skip said.
Sam hated remembering that the entire city knew about her near-abortion—the one she’d planned to have in college before she miscarried. An employee of the women’s clinic that had treated her had decided to cash in on Sam’s newfound notoriety. But they’d taken care of her and ensured she’d be tied up in a legal web for many years to come.
“So you want to talk about how to get those guys in high places to talk?” Skip asked.
Anxious to think of anything other than the long-ago nightmare that she believed had led to her current fertility issues, Sam nodded. “Yeah. Tell me what you’d do.”
Sam and Freddie took over the dining room at Nick’s place, using laptops to search the internet for every detail they could find about the lives of the five senators who’d had regular contact with Regina and Maria. The daylong canvas in Foggy Bottom had yielded two security cameras that had caught only shadowy images and not a single witness who reported seeing the abduction. They’d also gotten nothing helpful from a thorough investigation of the alley where Jeannie had been dumped. Sam was about to tear her hair out in frustration.
“Get this,” Freddie said, his eyes dancing over the screen. “Trent was in a car accident his senior year of high school.”
“Fatalities?”
“Two—both girls. He was driving, and his pants were unzipped when the cops cut him out of the car.”
“Drunk?”
“High. They found marijuana in the car.”
“Whoa. How’d the press never get ahold of this?”
“They did.” He spun the laptop around so she could see the video Freddie had found of Trent’s interview on Oprah in which he’d taken full credit for what he called a “youthful mistake.” The Montana voters had bought his story and sent him to Washington ten years earlier, as an appointee to finish out the term of a senator who was forced to resign after a scandal. He’d won the seat on his own in the last election.
“Once again, the little woman stands staunchly by her husband’s side while he admits to being a scumbag,” Sam said of the Oprah video that featured Trent and his wife.
“You’ve got a real beef with that, huh?”
“I just don’t get these women who think so little of themselves that they blindly stand by these guys.”
“What would you do if the press found out about something stupid that Nick had done as a kid? You wouldn’t stand by him if it turned into a media circus?”
“Nick doesn’t do stupid things.”
“Everyone does stupid things at some point in their lives.”
“Nick never did.” Sam chewed on her pen as she wondered once again how things were going with his mother. “He had an odd upbringing. Not a lot of time for foolishness.” She was quite certain, in fact, that he’d been so focused on hockey and school and his goal of going to Harvard on an academic scholarship that he never had time for youthful stupidity.
“Why do you have that worried look on your face?”
“Do I?”
Freddie nodded.
Sam told him about where Nick was and who he was dealing with as well as her worries that his mother might be after his money.
“Damn,” Freddie said. “I can’t imagine having a mother like that.”
“Speaking of mothers, is the dinner party on?”
“I don’t know if I should do it. With the case and McBride…”
“You need to get this issue resolved once and for all. You can’t be caught in the middle between your mother and Elin the way you are now.”
“We’ll see what Friday brings. I asked them both to save the night, but I’m not sure Elin will show. She wasn’t too happy about the idea. If she does come, I might take them out to eat rather than cooking. I figure if we’re in public, they can’t claw each other’s eyes out.”
“True.” Turning back to the case, she tapped a pen against the table as she mulled over the thoughts swirling around in her mind.
“What’re you thinking?”
“Something Jeannie said today keeps nagging at me.”
“What’s that?”
“The message he told her to give me—’Tell your boss to back off on the dead whores, or she’ll be next.’”
“What about it?”
“He called them whores.”
“So?”
“So nothing in our investigation has led to any kind of promiscuity. Even though both were pregnant and Regina was involved with Lightfeather, we haven’t found a single other man linked to either of them.”
“Figure of speech?”
“Could be,” Sam said. “But I keep going back to the money they were sending home. Where would they get that? You said drugs, gambling or prostitution. Remember?”
“Yeah, so you think they were hooking on the side?”
“Gonzo spoke to Maria’s neighbor who said her routine was exactly the same seven days a week. She came home from work and took a shower. The woman upstairs heard the pipes clanging every morning.”
“Okay…”
“JoAnn Smithson told us they work five nights a week, Monday through Friday nights. So what was Maria doing the other two nights?”
“Good question.”
“One to ask her friend Selina. We can follow up with Lightfeather again about Regina’s weekend schedule. In the meantime, let’s finish the research on the senators. I’d love to find some skeletons in the closets of Stenhouse or Cook.”
“If they’ve got ’em, we’ll find ’em.”
By eleven, Sam and Freddie had read every word they could find about their five senators, but hadn’t found any other bombshells. “I guess we’ll start with Trent in the morning,” she said.
“Sounds like a plan. Should I meet you there?”
“Let’s go to HQ first to see if third shift got anywhere tonight. I also want to know if we’ve got DNA results from Maria. Will you check to see if there’s a report on Nick’s cell yet?”