Fatal Identity (16 page)

“Her name was Danielle. I can't recall her last name off the top of my head. It was a long time ago.”

Avery exchanged glances with Farnsworth and Malone.

“In a conversation with Josh about your husband's career, it came up that you all once lived in Knoxville,” Avery said. “But Josh was adamant that you never lived there. Do you know why that would be?”

“We... Troy and I... We had some marital problems during those years. It was a difficult time in our lives, so we rarely talked about living there. That's probably why.”

Avery found that explanation curious, to say the least. “Have you been with your mother all day today, Mrs. Hamilton?”

“Yes, since she called me this morning to tell me she was feeling poorly.”

“And your other children are where?”

“Mark is in Chicago, and Maura lives in Boston. Why?”

“Establishing the whereabouts of the immediate family is routine in a homicide investigation,” Malone said. “Do you know if they're both at home today?”

“I... I don't know. I haven't spoken to them.”

Hill produced a notebook and pen. “We'll need their phone numbers.”

She took it from him with hands that were trembling more violently now. “You don't honestly think they'd harm their father? They adored him!”

“We have to explore all possibilities, ma'am,” Malone said.

“Why isn't the Bureau investigating?” she asked. “In light of recent events, I'm not sure I trust the MPD to handle it.”

To his credit, Farnsworth didn't react to the insult. Rather, he said, “We have jurisdiction because of where the crime occurred, and it would be a conflict of interest for the FBI to investigate the murder of its director.”

“Is that true, Agent Hill?”

“It is.”

“Dustin will need to be notified. Troy would want him involved.”

“I have a call in to the deputy director, ma'am,” Hill said. “If you could please write down the contact information for your children as well as a number where we can reach you, I'd appreciate it.”

With her jaw set in a stubborn expression, she did as he asked and handed over the notebook. “What happens now?”

“The director's body is with the city's Medical Examiner, who will perform an autopsy. When that is completed, the body will be released to the funeral home of your choice. The ME will call you when she has completed her work.”

Mrs. Hamilton nodded.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Malone said. “We'll be in touch.”

She saw them out the door and shut off the porch light, the dead bolt clicking loudly.

When they were in the car and on their way back to the city, Farnsworth said, “Did anyone else find it interesting that she didn't ask how he was murdered?”

“I found it very interesting indeed,” Malone said. “And she didn't ask to see him. Family members almost always ask to see the victim, like they need to see it with their own eyes before they'll believe it's true.”

“How about her referring to Hamilton as the man who ‘raised' Josh, rather than as his father?” Avery asked. “Parents of adopted children are almost always extra particular about those semantics.”

“We need to look more closely at her, and we need to notify the media,” Farnsworth said. “If there's anyone you should tell within the Bureau before we go public with this, now is the time. I've asked my Public Affairs people to get the media to HQ within the hour.”

Hill withdrew his cell phone and tried to reach Dustin, getting his voicemail again, so he contacted his director supervisor, Leslie Monroe, the executive assistant director for the Criminal, Cyber, Response and Services branch.

“Agent Hill,” she said when she answered. “What can I do for you?”

“Director Hamilton has been murdered.”

After a gasp, she said,
“What?”

“I've been trying to reach Dustin, but I keep getting his voicemail.”

“Have you got a team at the scene?”

“It's not our scene. The murder occurred in the director's home. The MPD has jurisdiction.”

“Not this time they don't. He's ours. We'll see to it.”

“Leslie, we can't, and you know it.” He liked and respected her—most of the time. She left him alone to run his division the way he saw fit, and got involved only when he asked her to. But she was dead wrong on this, and he was prepared to dig in if need be.

“How did you hear about it?”

“I was the one who found him.”

“And you didn't call us first? What the hell, Avery?”

“I followed procedure, and when you take a minute to think it through, you'll realize that.”

After a long pause in which he wondered if he'd ended his own career by criticizing his boss's judgment, she said, “What were you doing at the director's home on a Sunday?”

Avery filled her in on what'd been going on with Josh, the APB that had been issued, the subsequent statement that had come from the director and the reason he had gone to the director's home. He wanted to ask what rock she'd been living under all day to have missed the events from earlier.

“We had my daughter's birthday party today,” she said, answering his unspoken question. “I've been offline. Was Josh located?”

“Yes, the MPD has him in protective custody until we figure out what's going on with the kidnapping case.”

“I'm trying to understand what you're saying about that. You honestly believe that it's possible a young man Troy Hamilton raised as his son was
kidnapped
from a family in Tennessee thirty years ago?”

“I'm saying only that Hamilton's son bears a striking resemblance to the age-progression photo that was released by the family. The DNA results are being sent to the Franklin police tomorrow. We'll know very soon if we have a match. That, coupled with the director's odd behavior today, has us operating under the assumption that he knew something about the kidnapping.”

“What's the plan if there's a DNA match?”

“Then I guess we'll have to figure out how Taylor came to be in Hamilton's custody.”

“I'm trying to wrap my head around this.”

“I've been trying to do that all day.”

“You should've called me the minute you heard about this, Avery.”

“There was nothing to tell you other than a man raised as Hamilton's son looked like an age-progression photo of a missing kid.”

“What's the plan for announcing the director's murder to the media?”

“The MPD chief is calling a press conference within the hour.”

“I'll try again to call Dustin, and if I can't reach him, I'll issue a Bureau-wide alert to let people know before it goes public.” Pausing, she added, “There'll be a lot of questions in light of the APB and the director's statement about his son.”

“You could be preemptive by saying the MPD is working to resolve a situation with Hamilton's son that arose earlier in the day, and it's unclear at this time if there's a connection between the two events.”

“But there has to be, right? How can it not be related?”

“I don't know if it is or isn't. I've told you everything I know.”

“And the MPD is keeping you in the loop?”

“I'm with Chief Farnsworth and Detective Captain Malone right now. We're on our way back to the city after notifying Mrs. Hamilton, who was in Chantilly with her sick mother.”

“That poor woman. What she must be going through.”

For some reason, Avery chose not to mention to Leslie that the poor woman had shown a distinct lack of curiosity about how her husband's life had ended.

“I'll get the alert out,” Leslie said. “Keep me posted on every development.”

“I will.”

When they arrived at the MPD headquarters thirty minutes later, they were met by Patrol Captain Hernandez. “We've got a situation, sir,” he said, speaking directly to the chief.

“What now?” Farnsworth asked.

“Detective Cruz's car was found running and abandoned at a stoplight at North Carolina Ave and 14th Street Northeast. The driver and passenger doors were open. There was no sign of Detective Cruz or Mr. Hamilton.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

S
AM
HAD
NO
sooner fallen asleep than she was awakened by her alarm. She smacked at the bedside table, looking for the snooze button until she remembered she was suspended and hadn't set an alarm. The noise was from her cell phone, which was ringing. At two-thirty in the morning.

With her heart racing, she grabbed it and flipped it open. “Yeah.”

“Lieutenant,” Malone said, “Cruz is missing.”

Sam sat up in bed. “What?”

“He and Josh never arrived at the safe house. His car was found running and abandoned, doors open at the intersection of North Carolina and Fourteenth Northeast.”

Once again, Sam felt like she'd been punched. She forced air into her lungs. “Cameras?”

“We're working on it.”

“Witnesses?”

“None so far.”

“I'm coming in.”

“Technically—”

“
Fuck technically!
He's my partner! I'm coming in.”

“I'll see you when you get here.”

Sam got up and was running for the stairs when she remembered she was naked. She turned and went back to grab her robe, nearly screaming in frustration when one of the sleeves was inside out.

“What's wrong?”

“Freddie is missing.” This could not be happening again. Not to him.

“What do you mean?”

“He was taking Hamilton to the safe house, but they never arrived.” She tied the robe around her waist with jerky movements. “His car was found idling at a light, doors open.”

“Ah God.” Nick got up and came to her, but when he tried to put his arms around her, she shook him off.

“I can't. I just... I can't.”

“Okay, babe. I'll talk to Brant. I'll get there as soon as I can.”

“What do you mean? You don't have to—”

“I'm coming, Samantha, and I'll do anything I can for you.”

His kind insistence nearly broke her. Because she didn't trust herself to speak, she only nodded.

“And I won't let it be a circus, I promise.” He kissed her forehead. “Go on. I'll be right behind you.”

“Scotty.”

“I'll call Shelby in the morning. He'll be fine here with his detail until then. Go.”

Bolstered by his love and assurances, she went down the stairs and into her closet, grabbing jeans and a sweater and shoving her feet into socks and running shoes, telling herself all the while that Freddie was fine, he knew how to protect himself. She'd taught him well, had given him the tools...

Her eyes burned with tears that she refused to indulge. That was not what he or Josh needed from her right now. They needed her best, and she'd give it to them.

She went into her bedroom to retrieve her weapon, badge and cuffs, jamming her notebook into her back pocket out of habit as she ran down the stairs and through the dark living room, stopping only to grab her coat from the chair where she'd left it. The agent on duty stood when he saw her coming.

“Ma'am? Is everything all right?”

“I'm going to work.”

“Give me a second to disarm the system.”

“Hurry.”

Listening to the maddening beeps and dings of the security system disarming, she about lost her mind. It took every ounce of self-control she possessed not to scream her head off at the agent, who was only doing his job. She experienced the same level of frustration waiting for the agents working the Ninth Street checkpoint to let her through. Okay, so they weren't expecting to see her at two-thirty in the morning. Deal with it!

She raced through the quiet streets on her way to HQ, her mind spinning with possibilities and scenarios, her muscles tight with fear. When forced to stop at a red light, she called Malone.

“Trace his cell phone,” she said.

“Tried that. It's off.”

“Trace Hamilton's.”

“We're working on it, Sam.”

“Who knew they'd be together?”

“No one, other than a few people from our department and Hill.”

“Where is he?”

“He's here, working the case with us.”

“Who did he tell that we were moving Hamilton to a safe house?”

“Only Josh's mother, and they were taken before she knew. We looked for them for a couple of hours before we called you.”

“Why would someone grab them? What would be the motivation?”

“We're working it from every angle.”

“I'm dying a thousand deaths, Cap.”

“So am I. We're going to find them. I'll see you when you get here.”

Sam pressed the accelerator, not caring what laws she broke or who she ran down on her way to HQ. The only thing that mattered was finding Freddie before something awful happened. Another something awful.

Because they needed all the help they could get, she called Gonzo.

Christina answered. “Sam?” she said, sounding sleepy.

“I need to talk to him.”

“He's asleep.”

“Wake him up.”

“I'm not going to do that.”

“Christina! It's an emergency. I need to talk to him.”

“I'm very sorry, Sam, but he's not available right now. He's sleeping for the first time in weeks. I won't disturb him.”

She wanted to crawl through the phone and beat the hell out of Christina, but she'd probably feel the same way if the roles were reversed. “When he wakes up, tell him Freddie is missing.” She slapped the phone closed and pulled into the parking lot at full speed, ducking into the first available spot.

Sam ran for the main door, pushing her way through the media that had gathered for the chief's press conference, which had apparently been delayed.

“Lieutenant, what do you know about the murder at Director Hamilton's house?”

“Who was killed?”

“Where is the director?”

“Where is Josh?”

“Was Josh kidnapped?”

That one stopped her cold. How did they know about that? Though the question surprised her, Josh's case was the least of her concerns right now. She blasted through the main doors and headed straight for the chief's suite, having no doubt that Freddie's disappearance was being handled at the highest level.

The door to the chief's office was open so she went in. “What do we know?” she asked.

In attendance were Farnsworth, Malone and Hill, who weren't surprised to see her, Deputy Chief Conklin, Captain Hernandez from Patrol and Captain Roback from Vice, all of whom seemed shocked that she was there.

“Someone tell me what's going on!”

“We have people looking for them all over the city, and Lieutenant Archelotta's team is reviewing the security footage in the area—”

“I've got something,” Archie said as he came into the room carrying a flash drive. He went around the chief's desk to insert it in his computer, calling up images that stopped Sam's heart.

Freddie's beat-up Mustang, stopped at a red light, approached by three men with assault weapons. The whole thing happened quickly. Freddie and Josh were overtaken before they could react and were led to a white van that idled half a block away. Sam watched, horrified, as her partner and Josh were thrown into the van, which was moving even before everyone was in.

“The plate,” Sam said, swallowing the fear so she could function.

“One step ahead of you,” Archie said. The next frame showed a close-up view of the plate. “I put a trace on it.” He reached across the desk to hand her a piece of paper with an address on it.

Sam headed for the door.

“Sam, wait,” Malone called after her. “We have to do this right.”

She kept moving.

“Lieutenant!
Stop!
That's a direct order.”

Only because he'd rarely ordered her to do anything did she stop, even though everything in her wanted to go to where Freddie was being held. If anything happened to him...

“Give us ten minutes to get our shit together. I promise you I want him back as much as you do.”

“I doubt that.”

Wearing jeans and a sweatshirt and looking like the best thing she'd ever seen, Nick came through the main doors, Brant following right behind him. Her husband came to her, putting his hand on her shoulder. “What's going on?”

“We've got something.”

“We're mobilizing SWAT and preparing to go after him,” Malone added.

“I want to be there,” Sam said. “You have to let me go.”

“You're not going,” Farnsworth said.

Sam spun around to plead her case, but the words died on her lips when she saw the stony expression on his face.

“You're suspended. You shouldn't even be in this building.”

“He's my partner! My friend. My...” He was the little brother she'd never had, and Sam loved him. “You can't ask me to stay away.”

“I'm telling you that's what you're going to do, or you'll face much greater consequences than your current suspension. You're wasting time that could be better spent finding Detective Cruz.”

The chief walked away, leaving Sam reeling.

“Sam.” Nick took hold of her arm. “Don't.”

Thankfully, Nick was there to keep her from completely flipping out and doing something she'd probably regret. Like telling off the chief...

Hill gave her a sympathetic look as he followed the chief.

Sam wanted to punch the sympathy off his face. She had no idea what she was supposed to do with the energy that was exploding through her, needing an outlet. How was she to sit idly by with her partner in potentially mortal danger? Standing in the middle of the lobby with her husband, she felt the eyes of every officer currently in the building on her. They were wondering why she was there.

“Let's get out of here,” she said to Nick.

He took her by the hand and gestured for Brant.

“Let's go out through the morgue,” Brant said. “It's a mob scene out there.”

With the press already ravenous for information about what'd happened at Hamilton's home, they'd want to know why Nick was there too.

Brant mobilized the detail and hustled them through the morgue door and straight into a waiting SUV.

“My car.”

“We'll get it tomorrow.”

“I'm losing my mind.”

He put his arm around her. “He's going to be okay.”

“They had assault weapons. Whoever took him meant business.”

“The chief and captain won't let anything happen to him.”

Sam tried to take comfort in that, but she was too aware of what could go wrong, even with the best people looking for him. “I should call Elin.”

“Do you think that's wise?”

“No, but it's what he'd want me to do.”

“Are you sure?”

“No!” Her voice broke. “I'm not sure of anything except he's missing, and I'll die if anything happens to him.”

“It's okay, babe.” He tightened his hold on her. “He's tough and he's smart and he was trained by the best cop I know. He'll get through this.”

Sam held his hand and clung to his assurances. They were all she had at the moment. Thanks to the efficiency of the Secret Service, they were home within minutes.

The waiting was agonizing. She stared at her phone, willing it to ring, but it stayed stubbornly silent.

“Can I borrow your phone?”

Nick handed it over.

Because she wanted to keep her line open, she used the contact info on her phone to call Elin on his.

“It's Sam,” she said when Elin answered. “There's something going on that you need to know about, but I don't want you to panic.” She was panic-stricken enough for both of them. “Freddie would want you to know that he was taken hostage earlier tonight.”

Elin's sharp gasp came through the phone like a shotgun blast.

“We've narrowed down where we think he's being held, and teams are being dispatched as we speak.”

“Why aren't you with them?”

“I'm suspended.”

“He needs you, Sam!”

The words struck her heart like sharp arrows. She dropped her head into her hands. “I tried, but they wouldn't let me.”

“Sam, oh my God! You can't let anything happen to him!”

Sam's chest felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. “We've got our best people on it. If you want to come to my house, you can wait for news with us.”

“I... Um, okay. I'll do that.”

“Take a cab so you don't have to drive. I'll tell them to let you in.”

“He's going to be okay, isn't he?”

“I really hope so.”

“I'll be right there,” she said on a sob.

“Brant, will you please let them know outside that Elin Svendsen will be arriving by cab? Tell them to let her in.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Thank you.”

Nick sat next to her on the sofa, his arm around her shoulders. “Lean on me, babe.”

For the first time ever, she didn't want him to touch her. She didn't want him to comfort her or speak to her in that soothing voice that usually worked wonders on her nerves. Before she could do something stupid like shake him off, she stood, wrapped her arms around her torso and began to pace.

She felt his gaze on her, watching over her the way he always did.

The front door opened and Shelby came rushing in, stopping short at the sight of them. “I got your text,” she said to Nick, “but I didn't think y'all would be here.”

“I didn't think so either,” Sam said. “Freddie is missing. I got sent home because I'm suspended, and now I'm losing my shit.”

Shelby took off her coat, dropped it over the sofa and came to Sam. “What can I do?”

“There's nothing any of us can do because
I'm fucking suspended
.”

To her credit, Shelby didn't react to Sam's harsh tone. She knew by now how much Freddie meant to her and how panicked she had to be at the thought of him in grave danger.