Fatal Identity (9 page)

Freddie came out the front door and ran over to her. “Anything?”

“No.”

Sam powered up her phone and tried to call Josh, but the call went straight to voicemail. She left a message, begging him to call her, to trust her to keep him safe, and then slapped the phone closed.

“So what now?”

“Now I do what I probably should've done on Friday,” she said grimly. “I'm going to Farnsworth.”

“What should I do?”

“Grab your stuff and anything of Josh's out of the room and go home.. I'll call you after I see the chief.”

“You were trying to help him, Sam. You didn't do anything wrong.”

“Maybe so, but if he turns up dead, that's on me.”

“No, it's on the person who kills him.”

“Let's hope we can find him before anything happens.”

“Since I've got nothing going on at home until later when Elin gets back, I'm heading to HQ. Hit me up there when you know what the plan is.”

“What do I tell the Rollings family if he turns out to be their son and I can't find him?”

“We'll find him.”

As Sam trudged to her car, her stomach aching the way it used to when she was strung out on diet cola, she wished she shared his certainty.

CHAPTER NINE

J
OE
AND
M
ARTI
F
ARNSWORTH
lived in a modest home in the city's Kingman Park neighborhood, known for its brick-fronted townhouses and social activism. The chief believed in living among the people he served, and they had resided in the same house for more than thirty years. Sam and her sisters had been frequent guests there, for holidays, barbecues and even an occasional sleepover.

Uncle Joe and Aunt Marti had been like family to the Holland girls, which is why Sam didn't think twice about going to the chief's home on a Sunday afternoon. Marti answered the door, her face lighting up with pleasure at the sight of Sam. They'd last seen each other at Nick's inauguration.

Sam returned Marti's warm embrace.

“What a lovely surprise! Joe and I were talking about you and Nick last night. We heard he was in the hospital! Is he all right?”

“He's much better. He and Scotty have been laid low by the flu.”

“Aww, the poor guys.”

“The good news is I finally have definitive proof that Nick is not superhuman.”

Marti laughed as she linked her arm through Sam's to lead her into the family room where Joe was face-first in the Redskins game. “Earth to honey, we have a visitor.”

Joe tore his gaze off the TV and did a double take when he saw Sam with Marti.

“Sorry to bother you at home, sir.”

“Oh, stop that, Sam,” Marti said. “He's Uncle Joe here.”

“He's always
sir
to me now, ma'am.”

Though Marti scowled, her eyes glimmered with amusement.

“If I have to be called
ma'am
in my own house, so do you,” Sam added.

“Fair enough,” Marti said with a laugh. “I assume this isn't a social call, so I'll leave you to talk to your uncle Joe. I'm off to the grocery store.” She gave Sam a kiss on the cheek. “Don't be a stranger around here, okay?”

“I won't. Sorry it's been so long since I stopped by.”

She swept away Sam's apology with the wave of her hand. “No apologies needed. You're the second-busiest lady in America these days, and I'd venture to guess Gloria Nelson's schedule hasn't got anything on yours.”

“Your words, not mine.”

Marti laughed. “Spoken like the wife of a politician. You take care.”

“You too, Aunt Marti.”

Marti kissed her husband before she left through the kitchen.

“You two are still honeymooning, huh?” Sam asked as she took a seat, propping her elbows on her knees. Her family had always teased the Farnsworths about their adorable PDA habit.

He eyed her shrewdly and muted the game. “Is that why you're here? To tease me about kissing my wife?”

“No,” she said with a sigh. “We have a situation.”

“How's it possible that you have a
situation
when you're suspended?”

“Well, it's sort of like this.” Making use of the department-issued tablet that sat on his coffee table along with files he'd brought home from the office, she showed him the age-progression photo, explained how Josh Hamilton had sought her out and everything that'd happened since then, concluding with the information that he was now on the run. As she spoke, Farnsworth's normally amiable expression hardened.

“So let me get this straight—while you're serving out a
suspension
, you took on a new case involving the
son of the FBI director
, you called in the District's chief medical examiner to take a swab that will be processed through the District's lab and asked Detective Cruz to provide protection for Mr. Hamilton—”

“At my expense.”

“Still, you involved Detective Cruz, and now the man you were trying to protect has gone missing. Do I have the facts correct?”

It took everything she had not to squirm under his intense glare. “You do.”

He stared at her for a long time before he shook his head in apparent dismay. “You do
not
make it easy, Lieutenant.”

She was about to ask him what he meant by that but she didn't have to.

“You're always coloring outside the lines, and it's becoming increasingly more difficult for me to defend your actions.”

Ouch.
That hurt
. “I don't expect you to defend me or to understand why I do the things I do. You want results. I get you results. Every time.”

“You'll never hear me deny that. But the means to the end, Lieutenant, is where we have a problem.”

To hear him say they had a problem raised all sorts of alarms within her, but now was not the time to worry about alarms. “You have to understand the spot I was in—Josh refused to deal with anyone but me, and if it turns out that he is this missing kid, how could I
not
try to get those answers for the poor parents who've spent thirty years looking for him?”

“I do understand the spot you were in, and I hope you understand the spot you've put
me
in. You've got a man accusing the FBI director of kidnapping, and you didn't think I needed to know that the second it happened?”

“No one has accused Director Hamilton of anything.”

“Semantics, Lieutenant. The second you involved Dr. McNamara you involved the department, and you
know
it.”

“So what do we do now? Hamilton is on the run, and he's convinced that if his father finds him, he'll kill him.”

“He said that? Those exact words?”

“Those exact words.”

“Jesus. And you believed him?”

“Both Detective Cruz and I believe he was genuinely afraid for his life.”

Farnsworth reached for the landline extension that sat on the coffee table and dialed a number, keeping his steely stare fixed on her. “This is Chief Farnsworth. Put me through to Conklin.” After a pause, he said, “Hey, it's me. I'm with Holland and we need an APB for Josh Hamilton.” He provided a description based on the photo Sam had shown him. “I want everyone looking for him. Notify Maryland and Virginia State Police. He was last seen on foot in the Crystal City area just over an hour ago. If we find him, take him into protective custody.” After a pause, he said, “Yes, she knows she suspended. I'll fill you in later. Ask for hourly reports from Patrol.”

He ended the call and put the phone on the table.

“What do we do now?”

“
You
are doing nothing. You're going home to tend to your sick husband and son.”

“Josh Hamilton trusts me, Chief.”

“He trusts you so much he ran from you, Lieutenant.”

Sam forced herself to remain calm. “When you find him, you'll want me there. He knows I'm on his side.”

“You're not on anyone's side! You're on suspension. This matter no longer involves you—and I hate to point out the obvious, but it never should've involved you.”

“But—”

“Go home, Lieutenant. Do yourself—and me—a big favor and stay home until Wednesday morning at zero seven hundred. Do I make myself clear?”

She bit back the retort that was dying to get out. “Yes.”

His brow lifted.

“Yes, sir.”

“You ought to know that I spoke with Forrester yesterday. He's going to request a meeting with you tomorrow. I'd recommend you have an attorney present. Ramsey's not letting it go, and frankly, I don't blame him. I expect better from you than how you handled that situation.”

“I'm sorry to disappoint you, sir.” Not even his disappointment, which mattered greatly to her, could change the fact that Ramsey had gotten exactly what he'd deserved.

“You want to know the only reason Forrester hasn't already filed charges?”

Not really, but she couldn't say that, could she? “Um, sure?”

“Because you're the second lady, and he's not looking forward to the feeding frenzy that'll erupt if he charges you.”

“Don't let that stop him,” she said drily.

“You think this is funny, Sam?”

“No, I don't. I think it's ridiculous.”

“Did you or did you not assault a fellow officer?”

“I did. I absolutely did. And I'd absolutely do it again in light of what he said and how he said it. In fact, I'm so certain that he deserved it, maybe I'll just plead guilty and save Forrester the trouble of prosecuting the second lady.”

“If you plead guilty to felony assault charges, your career as a police officer is over.”

“So be it.”

“You don't mean that.”

“What if I do? My life would be a whole lot simpler without this job, and I could focus on my duties as a mother and the second lady without having to worry about chasing down killers or people taking me hostage or gunning down my officers simply because they carry a badge.”

“Your squad has had a rough go of it lately. We're all painfully aware of that. For what it's worth, I urged Forrester to take that into account as he weighs whether or not to formally charge you.”

“I appreciate your efforts on my behalf, Chief.”

“I also want you to know that Ramsey will face disciplinary action for what he said to you, which was so far out of line it's not even funny.”

“No, it wasn't funny, and as far as I'm concerned, a broken wrist and a concussion are the least of what he deserved.”

“On that we may agree, but I can't and won't condone this kind of behavior from officers of your rank and stature.”

“Understood. Hopefully, I'll never again have reason to lay out one of my fellow officers.”

“Let's hope not. I'll see you Wednesday?”

“Yeah.”

“Let me know what happens with Forrester.”

“I will.”

He walked her to the door. “Give Nick and Scotty my regards. I hope they feel better soon.”

“Thank you.”

Sam was walking to her car when her phone rang. She took the call from Darren Tabor, prepared to rip him a new one for reporting on her suspension, but she never got the chance.

“Why have you guys issued an APB for the FBI director's son?”

For a second, Sam thought about telling Darren why they were looking for Hamilton's son, but the chief's words echoed loudly in her mind, reminding her she had no right to speak on the department's behalf. Not today anyway.

“Why're you asking me? As you've already told the world, I'm suspended.”

“But you know why, don't you?”

“No comment.”

“Is he in trouble?”

Sam could almost hear the young reporter salivating over the possibility of one of the nation's top law enforcement officers having a son in trouble. “No comment.”

“Come on, Sam, you gotta give me something.”

“No, I actually don't, especially since you screwed me on the suspension thing.”

“Other people already had it. That was happening with me or without me.”

“I've got to go, Darren.”

“How's the vice president?”

“Better.”

“Can you tell me anything about this situation with Hamilton's family?”

“Nope.”

“Not even off the record?”

“Nope.”

“You're killing me, Sam.”

“You'll survive.” Sam slapped the phone closed and got into the car, cranking the heat as she tried to figure out her next move. She had a million questions about the Hamilton family and the abduction of Taylor Rollings and whether the two were somehow related. Under normal circumstances, she might head to HQ for a few hours to do some digging. But that wasn't an option today.

She'd heard every word the chief had said, and was well aware that his patience with her was waning. Uncle or not, he had a job to do, and her recent actions had made that job more difficult for him. She regretted that aspect of what she'd done. It was never her intention to cause him heartburn. The heartburn seemed to find her whether she toed the thin blue line or not. How was that her fault?

While she took the chief's annoyance seriously, the fact remained that her suspension didn't extend to online research she might do on her own. With that in mind, she headed home.

Her phone rang while she was stopped at a red light.

“Are you freaking kidding me?” Captain Malone said when she answered.

“Hello to you too, Captain.”

“Hamilton's son thinks he was kidnapped from a family in Tennessee thirty years ago?”

“That's about the gist of it?”

“Holy fucking shit.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“I know him a little bit.”

“Who?”

“Director Hamilton. I shadowed him for a month years ago when he had Hill's job,” Malone said, referring to Special Agent-in-Charge Avery Hill, who oversaw the Bureau's Criminal Investigation Division. “The shadowing was part of an interagency coordination effort.”

“What do you think of all this?”

Malone hesitated for a couple of seconds. “Meet me at your dad's in thirty minutes.” The line went dead before Sam could reply.

“Well, alrighty, then.”

The half hour Malone had given her allowed for time to stop at home and check on her patients, both of whom were sound asleep as war raged on in a galaxy far, far away. She worked the remote out of Nick's hand and shut off the TV before tiptoeing from the room.

In the hallway, she sent a text to both their phones.
I'm at Dad's if you need me.
Sure, she could tell the agents on duty where she'd be, but she refused to run her family life through the Secret Service.

She zipped up the coat she'd left on for the check-in at home and went down the ramp to the sidewalk. To her right, she glanced at the reporters who had gathered outside the checkpoint, probably hoping for another glimpse of the vice president. She wanted to tell them to go get a life, but chasing the big story was their lives. Poor bastards. What a way to make a living.