Fatal Identity (8 page)

“It's well earned. He's a legend in law enforcement circles.”

“And in his own mind.”

“So you don't like him.”

“I don't know him well enough not to like him, but something about him is off-putting. Can't put my finger on it.”

“You think he'd be capable of kidnapping someone's child and taking him home to raise as his own?”

“Hell if I know. I can't imagine how anyone would be capable of such a thing. Those poor people. They've been through hell for thirty years. It sure would be something if you could give them some peace.”

“If Josh turns out to be Taylor, I fear that peace will be the least of what I'm giving them, and the frustrating part is that there's not a damned thing we can do from an investigative perspective until the DNA comes back.”

“You could look into where Hamilton and his wife were the day Taylor went missing.”

“How can I do that without bringing down the wrath of Hamilton on me and the department?”

“Carefully.”

Sam could hear how tired he was in the way he said that one word. “You need to sleep now. We'll talk more about this tomorrow.”

He didn't protest, which was unlike him, especially since he had such a complicated relationship with sleep. His insomnia had been awful since he became vice president, which was one of many challenges they'd faced after he accepted the president's offer to replace the ailing Joe Gooding.

“Thanks for waking up earlier,” she whispered.

His hand moved in small circles on her back. “Sorry I scared you.”

“You really did. Sorry for all the times I've scared you.”

“Love you, baby.”

“Love you too. So much.” If anything ever happened to him... No, she couldn't think about that or she'd go mad. There were two agents stationed right outside the door to ensure that nothing happened to him. But they hadn't been able to prevent severe dehydration. Her stomach ached from the fear of the many things that could happen to someone she loved that no one could prevent.

“Stop,” he whispered. “I can feel you spinning. Everything is fine. I promise.”

Sam took a deep breath, closed her eyes and carried his assurances to sleep with her.

CHAPTER EIGHT

N
ICK
WAS
RELEASED
from the hospital the next afternoon. With the hospital surrounded by photographers hoping for a glimpse of the ailing vice president, the Secret Service arranged for him to be released through a loading dock.

“I've been officially reduced to cargo,” he said when they were settled in the back of one of the big black SUVs.

Sam took hold of his hand. “Precious cargo.” Though he looked a thousand times better than he had yesterday, he was moving slowly and his face was still paler than Sam had ever seen it.

They were whisked through the streets of the city with the kind of efficiency only the Secret Service could provide in the notoriously clogged District. On the way up the ramp to their house, Nick waved to the photographers that had gathered outside the Secret Service checkpoint on Ninth Street.

“I predict that photo will be on the front page of every paper in the country tomorrow,” Sam said.

“Maybe they'll stop frothing at the mouth now that they know I'm going to live.”

“Too soon for jokes.” Her cell phone rang, and after a brief glance at the caller ID, she ignored the call from Darren Tabor. He was on her shit list after publishing the article about her suspension.

Melinda, the agent on duty, opened the door for them. “Welcome home, Mr. Vice President. Good to see you looking well.”

“Thanks, Melinda.”

Sam wanted to tell Secret Service Barbie to get her filthy eyes off her husband, but she held back that urge. One of these days...

Scotty came rushing toward them, hurtling himself into Nick's outstretched arms, which cleared Sam's mind of every thought that wasn't focused on her family.

“So glad you're home,” Scotty said.

“Good to be here.” Nick smiled at her over Scotty's head as he hugged their son for much longer than usual since Scotty had become a teenager and began recoiling from most forms of parental affection. “You're feeling better?”

“A lot better today. How about you?”

“Same. Still not perfect, but better.”

“This would be a good day to binge watch
Star Wars
,” Scotty said.

“I can't think of anything I'd rather do,” Nick replied.

They went upstairs to the master bedroom, and Sam got them settled in bed with remote controls and tall glasses of ice water. She'd been taught a big lesson about the perils of dehydration and was pushing the water hard.

“Move over and let me in,” she said to Scotty.

“You hate
Star Wars
.”

“True, but I love you, and I need some snuggles.”

He curled up his lip at the word
snuggle
, but he moved closer to Nick to let her in.

She had just gotten settled when her phone rang again. Prepared to tell Darren to fuck off and leave her alone, she flipped open the phone.

“Sam, we've got a problem,” Freddie said. “You need to get over here.”

“What kind of problem?”

“Josh is going off the rails. He's terrified his father is going to have him killed.”

“
What?
He said that?”

“He's been ranting about it all morning. I tried to talk him down because I know you're dealing with Nick and the flu and everything, but he's losing it. Nothing I say gets through to him.”

The last freaking thing she felt like doing was leaving the nice warm bed and her two favorite people, but she couldn't let Freddie twist in the wind alone with Josh. “Where are you?”

“Crystal Gateway. He's paranoid about me calling you. He's convinced Hamilton is probably having you followed.”

“How would Hamilton even know I'm involved?”

“Josh says he knows everything.” After a brief pause, Freddie added, “In case there's any truth to it, shut your phone off before you leave so he can't find you.”

“So you're buying into the conspiracy theories?”

Lowering his voice, Freddie said, “There's something about how fearful he is that's resonating with me. I'm getting a gut check.”

Sam had taught him to trust his gut, so the comment had her moving a little quicker to put on the shoes she'd only recently kicked off. “I'll be there shortly.”

“Thanks.”

While Scotty's gaze remained glued to the action on the TV, Nick was watching her. “What's up?” he asked.

“Josh is melting down. Gotta do some damage control. I shouldn't be long.”

“Be careful.”

She went around the bed to kiss him, which had Scotty making retching noises.

Nick smiled and curled his hand around her neck to keep her there for a moment longer. Into her ear, he whispered, “Watch out for Troy Hamilton. Be extra careful.”

“I will. Don't worry.”

“That'll be the day.”

Mindful of Freddie's warning, she powered down her phone and put it in her pocket. Though she was suspended, she still unlocked her bedside table to retrieve the weapon she never left home without, except when running after the ambulance carrying her husband. She stuck her badge into her back pocket just in case she needed it, not that she expected to.

“Scotty, you're in charge,” Sam said. “Make sure he does nothing but rest.”

“Got it,” he said, eyes still glued to the TV.

Though they were both a lot better than they'd been, she still hated to leave them, even for a couple of hours. And when she stepped outside the bedroom to see Melinda positioned in the hallway, she hated leaving them even more.

“They're not to be disturbed for any reason,” Sam said.

“Yes, ma'am.”

Sam wanted to snap back at her, to tell her not to call her ma'am, but that would be pointless. As the second lady, she was
ma'am
to the Secret Service whether she wanted to be or not. There were battles that could be fought and won, but that wasn't one of them. Besides, she had enough on her plate at the moment without taking on Nick's detail.

Was it petty to let the woman bug her? Of course it was. Melinda was only doing her job, but why had her young, sexy husband warranted a young, sexy
female
agent on his detail? Sam wondered if there was someone she could complain to and get Melinda reassigned. But she'd never do that, especially as a law enforcement officer herself. It was hard enough working in the old boys' club without making life difficult for a female colleague.

So she would keep her mouth shut and put up with Melinda's presence in her home and her eyes on Nick, but she didn't have to like it.

Traffic was light on Sunday afternoon, and she made good time on her way to Arlington, keeping half an eye on the rearview mirror looking for a tail that didn't materialize. If Hamilton was having her followed, he wasn't being obvious about it. There was no way anyone could get near her car outside the house with the Secret Service all over the place, and the car had been home since she brought Josh there the other day. For once, having the place crawling with Secret Service was coming in handy.

Well, that time they stopped Stahl from killing her on her own doorstep had been rather convenient too.

She kept an eye in the mirror as she took the 14th Street Bridge out of the city into Northern Virginia and headed for the Crystal City exit. That the Crystal Gateway Marriott was right next door to the Crystal City Marriott perplexed her as it always did. Who'd had the big idea to give two hotels practically the same name? Freddie had said
Gateway
, hadn't he?

She pulled up to the main door and flashed her badge to the valet on duty. “I won't be long.”

His eyes bugged when he recognized her.

Sam was long gone before he stopped gawking. Inside, she used a house phone to ask the operator to connect her with Freddie Cruz's room. He answered on the first ring.

“Yeah.”

“It's me. Where are you?”

“Room 718.”

“On my way.”

“Were you tailed?”

“Not that I could tell.”

“Okay.”

Sam took the elevator to the seventh floor and followed the hallway signs to the room. She knocked once, and Freddie opened the door. With one look she could see he was harried and annoyed.

“Thank God you're here,” he said in a low growl. “He's driving me
nuts
.”

Josh was pacing the small room, energy coming off his body in waves that were nearly visible. With his face a scary shade of red, he looked like he was about to blow from the pressure building inside him.

“Josh,” Sam said, since he hadn't seemed to notice her arrival.

Whirling around, he said, “You gotta let me out of here. He's going to find me. I'm like a sitting duck here.”

“Calm down—”

“
Don't tell me to calm down!
You don't know him! You don't know what he's capable of!”

“Why don't you tell me?”

His lips tightened as he shook his head. “Take my word for it.”

“I wish I could, but I just met you on Friday, and his reputation is legendary, so you'll have to forgive me if I need more to go on.”

He took a series of deep breaths, obviously trying to calm himself down. “He raised me, and I'm terrified of him. What else do you need to know?”

“Specifics. Why are you terrified of him?”

“He's ruthless. Nothing I ever did was good enough for him. If I screwed up, he beat the shit out of me. If I mouthed off, he beat the shit out of me.”

“Just you, or your siblings too?”

“I don't know if he ever hit them. They're older than me, and by the time I was old enough to be his punching bag they were out of the house.”

“And you never asked them?”

Shaking his head, he said, “Until now, I've never told anyone that he hit me.”

“Did your mother know?”

“I think she did, but she never said anything, and she certainly didn't try to stop it.”

“So she wasn't in the room when he hit you?”

“Never. It was only ever the two of us.”

“Why didn't you tell me this the other day?”

“Because! It's not something I just blab about. I know who he is and what people think of him. Who's going to believe me over him?”

“I believe you, Josh.”

He stopped moving, and his shoulders sagged, as if he'd been relieved of a weighty burden. “You do? Really?”

“Yeah, I do. I've been in this business a lot of years, and I know the difference between someone who's playing the sympathy card and someone who's been the victim of violence.”

At that, he stood up straighter again. “I am
not
a victim. I'm a
survivor
. Huge difference.”

“You're right. There is a huge difference.”

“I can't stay here. He's going to find me, and when he does, he'll kill me.”

Sam exchanged glances with Freddie, who looked as tense as she felt. “Give me a minute to talk to my partner, okay? We'll figure something out.”

Josh didn't acknowledge her question or her statement, so Sam turned and took Freddie by the arm. “Hallway.”

They stepped outside the room.

“You've got a key?”

“Yeah.”

She nodded toward the alcove next to the elevators, which was just around the corner from the room. “What's your take?” she asked when they were out of earshot of the room.

“I believe him. He's legitimately terrified.”

“I agree. I think it's time to call in the brass on this. I didn't want to until we were sure we had something, but his fear is enough for me to involve the department. This is
way
above my pay grade.”

“I'm glad to hear you say that. How do we explain what we've done so far?”

“I'll figure that out on the way to Farnsworth's house.”

“You're going to his
house
?”

“That's where I'm most likely to find him on a Sunday afternoon, and PS I grew up going to his house, remember?”

“Since I wasn't actually there, no, I don't remember.”

“Very funny. I'm suspended, so they have to cut me out of this, but you'll keep me in the loop, understood?”

“Of course. What do we tell Josh?”

“That I'm going to talk to my chief to figure out how to keep him safe while investigating his claims.”

“He's gonna freak. He's been ranting that people are going to find out the truth about Troy Hamilton and how someone's going to kill him.”

“You think he's mentally ill?”

“No, I think he's truly terrified. When the calls from his father started, he did a one-eighty. Before that he was calm, we were chilling, watching TV. After the calls, he was unhinged. I've seen nothing that smacks of mental illness, and I'd recognize it if I saw it.” The comment was a reminder that Freddie's father, who'd recently reentered his life after a twenty-year absence, suffered from bipolar disorder.

“I'll talk to him and explain the plan. Your job is to keep him calm until I get back.”

“Lucky me.” They rounded the corner and Freddie withdrew the keycard from his pocket to open the door to an empty room. “Aw, shit, he's gone.”

“Check the bathroom,” Sam said, her heart sinking.

“Gone.”

“Fuck.” She rushed out of the room and ran for the stairwell at the end of the hallway, well aware that he had a decent head start on them. Freddie's pounding footsteps followed behind her. They went down seven flights and burst into the lobby, startling an older couple.

“You're the second lady!” the man said.

Ignoring him, Sam said to Freddie, “Take the back.” She ran for the main doors, hoping for a glimpse of Josh before he disappeared, but there was no sign of him.
Motherfucker
. She jogged to the corner of Fifteenth Street, but he wasn't there either.
Goddamn it
.