A Deeper Darkness (22 page)

He looked at her in surprise. “Captain Fred Roosevelt. Who are you?”

“Dr. Samantha Owens. You’re Fletcher’s boss?”

“Yes, ma’am. What in the hell is going on here? He tried to tell me, but you interrupted. Good thing you did, idiot didn’t say he’d been hit.”

Roosevelt looked both worried and like he wanted to boot Fletcher in the ass. It was menacingly sweet.

“It’s a through-and-through. He’s gonna be fine. Other guy’s gonna be okay, too. Good thing they had a doctor in the car with them,” the paramedic chimed in.

Roosevelt’s eyes closed briefly, then opened and focused intensely on Sam’s. “Good. Now talk.”

Sam took a deep breath. “It’s a long story. We are investigating a lead from the Edward Donovan murder case.”

“We.” Roosevelt’s tone cooled immeasurably. “
We
being you, Fletcher and Hart?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And why, pray tell, is a civilian working a murder investigation in my town? Not only that, but without my authorization?”

“I’m not entirely a civilian. I’m a chief medical examiner, from Nashville. I’ve been around—”

“Cap, I asked her to help,” Fletcher groaned from somewhere behind Roosevelt’s meaty calves.

Roosevelt tore his laser gaze from Sam and directed it on Fletcher. “
You
asked her to help. Did you think you might want to clue me in that you’ve got some fucking chick riding along with you on a case? Or did that slip your mind?”

Roosevelt proceeded to dress down Fletcher, using some of the more colorful language Sam hadn’t heard in years. She might have enjoyed the show had she not been covered in the blood of two men—men she was becoming rather fond of—one of which was being loaded into an ambulance, the other who was sitting on the hard pavement with a bloody bandage wrapped around his arm, his pants and shirt soaked in his own and his partner’s gore.

Sam got right up close to Roosevelt and held her bloody, sticky hands in front of his face.

“Excuse me, Captain Roosevelt? Do you mind if I wash my hands? It’s been a long night.”

He took a step back and stopped yelling. Her point was made.

Fletcher tossed her a look of gratitude, and she smiled at him. He had saved her life tonight. They’d forged a bond that would be hard to tear asunder.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

McLean, Virginia
Susan Donovan

Susan vaguely heard the house phone ringing. She opened her eyes, realized she’d fallen asleep with her head on Eddie’s desk. She struggled upright and went to the kitchen to answer. Eddie had been planning to add the house line onto his office phone. Instead, she’d have to get that business line disconnected, put the office phone back on the regular phone number.

She didn’t recognize the caller ID, but that wasn’t unusual this week.

“Hello?” she answered.

“Susan? It’s Karen. Karen Fisher. I’m so glad I caught you.”

“Hey, Karen.” Susan couldn’t hide the exhaustion from her voice anymore.

“Oh, you sound beat. Honey, I’m so sorry I couldn’t make the funeral. I’m… Listen, are you at home? Can I come over?”

Susan glanced at her watch. It was getting late. She really should be heading back to Eleanor’s. And the last thing she wanted right now was a trip down Karen’s memory lane. When she’d lost King, she hadn’t handled things well. She’d want to commiserate, and it would become all about Karen.

“Why don’t we do this tomorrow, Karen. I need to head to my mother-in-law’s and get the girls.”

“I’m afraid tomorrow might be too late. It’s important, Susan. Really important. Life or death.”

Life or death
. What the hell was Susan supposed to say to that?

Fine. Just…fine.

“Are you close by? Maybe I could just meet you—”

“I’m at the 7-Eleven behind your neighborhood. Oh, my God, Susan, thank you. I’ll be there in just a second.”

She hung up. Susan rubbed sleep from her eyes, grabbed a Diet Coke from the refrigerator. She went back to the office to close the doors, snapping on the hall light as she went. There was enough illumination to spill into Eddie’s room, and Susan noticed the picture of the boys, the one the cops were so interested in, was crooked. She shook her head; she’d just straightened it the other day. She was one of those people who were driven crazy by a misaligned picture. She had that innate ability to see if something was crooked. Eddie had teased her about it all the time, sometimes going so far as to knock pictures a little off center just to watch her blood boil when she entered the room.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Eddie.

If only that were the case. Susan didn’t believe in ghosts. She believed in heaven, and hell, and purgatory for those who did bad things but could eventually be redeemed. But she didn’t think the dead lingered behind, haunting their loved ones.

Seeing that picture crooked was enough to make her doubt everything she’d believed in for her entire life. But that was wishful thinking. She told herself that, even though her flesh was crawling.

She turned on the overhead light and walked to the wall. Straightened the picture. As she turned to leave she noticed it swung back down to the right, crooked again.

That was strange.

She straightened it again. As she watched, the frame slowly slid to the right.

Goose bumps paraded up and down her arms. Then she thought of that movie, the one with Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze, and shook her head. This wasn’t a penny sliding up the wall. Eddie wasn’t invisible in the room, using all his ghostly energy to push the picture off its center. There was a totally rational explanation for why the picture wouldn’t align properly.

She took the photo off the wall and flipped it over. The backing was bulging, that’s why it was listing.
See,
she told the universe. She pushed on the hard cardboard to try to pop it back in place, but it wouldn’t budge. Something was making it protrude from its regular spot. The back was stuck, too. She tried and tried to get it to pull out, with no luck. Just as she decided she needed to grab a pair of pliers, it suddenly gave way. The backing came off with a rapid slide, and several pieces of paper fluttered to the ground.

She knelt and picked them up. Felt the breath leave her body.

The pages were from Eddie’s journal.

The doorbell rang.

Shit. Karen was here.

Susan folded the pages in half and shoved them in her back pocket, and slid the backing into the frame. She put the picture back on the wall, saw that it now hung straight and went to the front door.

Karen Fisher looked like hell. The rain had just begun to fall, but it was picking up in earnest. Karen’s dark hair was wet already, and her voice shook from the chilly air.

“Oh, my God, Karen, what’s wrong? Come in, before the rain gets worse.”

Susan hustled Karen into the foyer and shut the door behind them.

“Thank God you were home. I didn’t know where else to go.”

“What’s wrong?”

Karen looked exhausted. Black circles paraded under her eyes, and she smelled the tiniest bit like alcohol. And cigarettes. When had she started smoking?

“I just… Susan, can we sit down?”

Susan felt the alarm coming off Karen. Something really was wrong.

“Of course. Of course. Come on into the kitchen. Can I make you some coffee? Tea?”

Karen followed her into the kitchen. Out of habit, Susan turned to the stove and started to fill the kettle.

“No,” Karen said. Her voice wasn’t shaking anymore. “But you can tell me why you never shared the truth with me. Why you didn’t come straight to me when you found out Eddie killed my husband?”

Susan set the full kettle down on the stove with a thump. “What in the hell are you talking about, Karen? Eddie didn’t kill Perry. He loved Perry.”

“Don’t take another step, Susan. I’m warning you.”

Susan heard the menace in Karen’s voice. She stilled in her tracks, then turned slowly toward the woman.

Karen had a Glock pointed at Susan’s chest.

Without thinking, Susan gasped and started to back away.
Holy Mary, mother of God, what in the hell was Karen doing with a gun?

“Stop!”

Susan stopped.

“Eddie did kill Perry,” she said. “And I have the files to prove it.”

Susan held her breath. Karen was mumbling to herself, the gun wavering in her hand. Susan’s thoughts raced. Could this be true? Could this be what got Eddie killed? Is this what was on his papers? Susan tossed all of that away and went into survival mode. She’d taken self-defense classes, and spent the past thirteen years married to a Ranger. If she could just distract Karen, maybe she could get the gun out of her hands. Or better yet, persuade her to set the damn thing down. Susan had her own weapon, stashed on top of the breakfront…but that was two rooms away, and with Karen in her path, she’d have to fight by hand.

“Karen, put the gun down. We can’t talk like this. I’ve never heard anything—”

“Shut up! Just shut up. I’ve seen the proof. Eddie is the reason Perry died.”

Against every instinct, Susan took a step closer to Karen.

“I’ve never heard anything about this, Karen. You have to believe me. Eddie never said anything about it. And you know how they were. Confession was the only thing that kept them sane, both he and Perry. Whether they did it with God or with us, late at night, they told us everything that mattered. And Eddie never told me this.”

“Ha. You think he was so perfect. He wasn’t. He was just as bad as the rest of them. Just as bad as you.”

Susan felt something in her shift. Everything crashed into place, and a calm came over her. She must get out of this situation. She may not have Eddie anymore, but she had her girls. And she couldn’t, wouldn’t, leave them.

“Karen, put the gun down, now, so we can talk about this.”

“No. It’s your fault. If he’d just told you, you would have warned me. I wouldn’t have had to find out from Billy Shakes.”

“Karen, honey, you’re distraught. Let’s just make some tea and sit at the table, talk this out.”

The gun wavered, then Karen got a firmer grip on it. “No. You want to know the story? You want to find out what really happened in that godforsaken desert? Then you’re going to listen to what I have to say and stop talking.”

“Then talk, Karen. But may I make myself some tea? It’s been a very long day.” Karen didn’t say anything, so Susan turned on the burner. She estimated she had three minutes before the water started to boil.

She swallowed down her fear and turned back to face the gun. “Now, Karen. Please, talk to me. Tell me what you’ve heard.”

Karen shook her head, her mouth in a tight grimace. A normally pretty woman, she looked fierce and frightening, and ugly. “You can deny it all you want. I’ve seen the checks. I’ve seen the videos.”

“But I haven’t, Karen. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Susan was trying very hard not to lose her temper, but having a gun waved in your face makes you think crazy things.

The gleam in Karen’s eyes bordered on insane.

“Eddie fathered a child in Afghanistan. And when Perry found out, Eddie killed him.”

Chapter Forty

Washington, D.C.
Dr. Samantha Owens

Sam rode to George Washington University Hospital with Captain Roosevelt. Fletcher had been transported separately, and Hart was taken directly into surgery, so Sam was left with trying to explain to their boss what was going on.

She started with the phone call Donovan received, detailed the postmortem, the granulomas, then Croswell’s murder and post, the link to Savage River, the funeral, Taranto, Whitfield, everything. She knew she didn’t have all the pieces of the story: Fletcher had held several things back from her. Not that she blamed him. She was along for the ride, and he didn’t owe her anything.

Until now. Now, she’d saved his partner’s life, and she could use that as leverage to get all the way in.

Roosevelt got quieter and quieter as she spoke. He’d harrumphed a few times, at the beginning, but the more words spilled from her mouth, the tighter his grew. He pulled in front of the hospital and slammed the car into Park.

“Lady, I don’t know whether to arrest you or commend you. Guess I’m going to have to wait on both. Get out.”

Sam didn’t waste time arguing, just unlocked her safety belt and opened the door. She stepped out, for the first time realizing the air had cooled tremendously. She shivered.

“By the way.” Roosevelt leaned over, his bulk taking up the whole front seat. “Thanks for saving my guys.”

“My pleasure,” Sam said, then turned and walked directly toward the emergency room entrance without looking back. She knew she’d been treading on thin ice playing with the boys on this case. She was damn lucky Roosevelt didn’t cite her on the spot for interfering in an official investigation.

She wasn’t an investigator. She knew that. She wasn’t trying to play cop. She wasn’t trying to be careless. Just the opposite, she was being incredibly cautious. But her curiosity was getting the better of her, and damn it, she had a stake in this, too.

Someone had murdered Donovan. Someone had tried to kill her tonight. And she didn’t take kindly to being pushed around.