Fatal Consequences (30 page)

“They will.”

Sam returned her attention to Bartholomew. “That, along with the identification Ms. Rameriz will soon make as well as her very compelling and very
believable
story, gives you a rather significant problem, Mr. Bartholomew.”

“I’d like to see my lawyer.”

“We can arrange for that. Once your lawyer is here, however, I won’t be able to offer you any sort of deal on the prostitution charges—money laundering, racketeering, solicitation of prostitution.” She’d let the Feds look into the money trail after she’d nailed them on the more serious counts. “When you add those charges to the aggravated sexual assault charges, you’re looking at spending the rest of your life in prison.”

“What sort of deal?”

“Plead guilty to the sexual assault charge, sparing Ms. Rameriz from having to testify against you, and tell me everything you know about Sanborn’s involvement in the call girl ring.”

“In exchange for what?”

“Immunity on all the prostitution-related charges.”

“And leniency on the assault charge?”

“No way. You’ll do the full ride on that one.”

“How long do I have to think about it?”

She glanced at her watch. “Two minutes.”

His eyes almost popped out of his fat face. “
Two minutes?
”

“One minute, forty-five seconds…”

Bartholomew ran a hand over his mouth and began to pace the small room.

“One minute, fifteen seconds…” Watching him, Sam tried to focus on the time and not on the cramps still rolling through her belly. Was it hot in there or was it her? “What’s it going to be, Mr. Bartholomew? Do we have a deal?”

He stopped and turned to her, his expression grim, as if it had just registered with him that life as he knew it—pampered, privileged, successful—was over. “Yes,” he said. “We have a deal.”

“Tell me something—why did Sanborn kill Regina and Maria?”

“I have no idea.”

“None at all?”

“I had nothing to do with what happened to those girls,” he said emphatically.

Hands on hips, Sam waited for him to say more.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “They were supposed to take care of birth control. They weren’t supposed to get pregnant. It was stipulated in the contract they signed.”

“At least now we know why,” Sam said on her way out.

Freddie followed Sam from the room. “That was awesome,” he said. “Totally
awesome
.”

“Suck up.”

“The way you got him to cop to the rape
and
to roll on Sanborn. I aspire to be that smooth.”

“Why thank you. Even though you’re totally sucking up, I do appreciate the sentiment behind the sucking.”

He rubbed his belly. “All this nailing of scumbags is making me hungry.”

“What
doesn’t
make you hungry?” she shot over her shoulder as she pushed open the door to the room where Sanborn cooled his heels.

“Finally,” he muttered. “I demand to know what this is all about. I’m a busy man with important people, including the president of the United States, depending on me.”

“You’re busy, we’re busy,” Sam said, taking note of healing scratches on his neck, “so let’s cut to the chase. Your friends Daniels and Bartholomew claim you’re the mastermind behind the prostitution ring.”

His mouth fell open. “They wouldn’t dare.”

“The threat of long prison sentences does funny things to people, Mr. Sanborn. Shockingly, your friends were more concerned with saving their own skins than they were with saving yours.” Sam paused to let that sink in. “Doesn’t matter, though.” She produced the file folder. “DNA links you to the rapes and murders of Regina Argueta de Castro and Maria Espanosa as well as the kidnapping and rape of Detective Jeannie McBride.”

His face set into a mulish expression, he said, “I want my lawyer.”

When Sam thought about what this man had done to Jeannie, it took every ounce of self-control she possessed to resist plowing her fist into his sanctimonious face. “Great. Just let me know who I should call for you.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “That’s it.”

“You don’t have any questions for me?”

“Nope. Bartholomew and Daniels connected all the dots for me. I’m good.”

He seemed to understand all of a sudden that she wasn’t going to deal. “But wait—I need to get out of here. We’ve got a major fundraiser tomorrow evening. I have to be there!”

This is for you, Jeannie
, Sam thought, as she leaned forward, hands on the table. “Mr. Sanborn, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re not going anywhere for a long,
long
time.”

Leaving him to ponder his fate, Sam gestured for Freddie to follow her out of the room.

“You don’t hate to be the bearer of bad news all the time,” Freddie said with a droll smile.

“Some bad news is actually good news.”

Faith Miller stepped out of the observation room. “Get a hold of his lawyer and take him to central booking. You can also book Daniels and Bartholomew.”

“I’ll take care of that,” Malone said. “I’ll make sure every I is dotted.”

“I’ll see what I can do to get Daniels arraigned and released,” Faith said. “The other two will be staying a while.”

“I’ve got two more to pick up,” Sam said.

“Go get ’em,” Malone said.

“You can head home,” Sam said to Freddie as she went to retrieve her coat. “I’ll take care of sewing this up.”

“I want to be there when you arrest Cook.”

“I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.”

“But—”

“Freddie, you have plans.
Important
plans. Go.”

“What about the reports?”

He usually handled them because of her dyslexia. “I’ll take care of them this time. All I need is for you to call Regina’s and Maria’s parents and let them know we got the guy who killed their daughters. Then you’re done.”

“But—”

“No buts. I promised you a night off, so get to it.”

“I don’t feel right about leaving before we’re finished.”

“We
are
finished. I’m going to arrest Cook and Cheri, the call girl ring’s administrative assistant. I’ll send them back with patrol to be booked, and then I’m going home too. I’ll do the paperwork in the morning.”

“All right,” he said, frowning. “If you insist.”

“I insist.” She rested a hand on his arm. “I hope it all goes your way tonight. I really do.”

“Thanks. I hope so too. I’ll be here in the morning to help with the reports.”

“Sleep in. I’ll see you at ten.” She left him in his cubicle and headed out to the parking lot, her detail in tow. “I’m going to have you transport two people back to HQ for me, and then you’re released from babysitting duty. Case closed.”

“Yes, ma’am, Lieutenant.”

Sam studied the two eager young faces. “Thanks,” she said begrudgingly. “For keeping an eye on me the last few days.”

“Our pleasure,” one of them said with a cheeky grin. Sam smiled. Apparently, she still could turn a head or two. It was small solace in the midst of the physical and emotional pain of losing another baby.

On the way to Capitol Hill, Nick called. Sam saw his number on the caller ID and decided to wait to take his call until after she’d arrested Cook. He was better off not knowing what was happening until it was over and done with. She didn’t want anyone questioning him later about what he knew and when he knew it. Her phone dinged to indicate a voicemail message from him, which she would retrieve later. At the moment, it took all she had to focus on the task at hand while enduring the regular waves of pain cycling through her gut.

The police cruiser following her slid into the next parking space in a lot adjacent to the Hart Office Building. Sam noticed that the space reserved for Nick was empty. Hit with a blast of nerves over the grim news she’d have to share with him when she saw him later, she wondered if he had a campaign event that evening. She hoped not. She wanted to go home and feel his strong arms around her.

A black Cadillac Coup de Ville occupied the spot next to Nick’s, which was reserved for the senior senator from Virginia.

Sam made her way to Cook’s office, which was twice the size of that occupied by his junior counterpart. Having been there before, she knew the layout and strolled straight past Cook’s startled receptionist on her way to the senator’s vast corner office. She barged past numerous staffers and straight into Cook’s inner sanctum. He was in a meeting with three other men and two women.

“What’s the meaning of this?” he said, startling when he realized who’d come to call.

“Senator Robert Cook, you’re under arrest for solicitation of prostitution, running a prostitution ring and racketeering. I’m sure that once we dig a little deeper, we’ll be adding money laundering and other charges to the list.”

“You can’t come in here and accuse me of these egregious charges without an ounce of proof to back up your claims.”

“Oh, I’ve got proof.” She stepped around his massive desk to cuff him. “You have the right to remain silent.” He struggled against the cuffs as she recited the Miranda warning. The other people in the room watched the proceedings in stunned silence.

“What proof do you have?”

“Your good friends Daniels and Bartholomew are fully prepared to testify against you, as is one of the women you paid for sex.”

“
What about them?
” he cried. “Daniels and Bartholomew—and Sanborn? They’re in it up to their necks too!”

“Daniels and Bartholomew have agreed to testify against you and Sanborn.”

“
In exchange for what?
”

“Immunity on the prostitution charges.”

“And I don’t get the same courtesy?”

Sam thought of the way he’d threatened Nick during the Sinclair investigation. It gave her tremendous pleasure to say, “Sorry, but I don’t need you. I’ve already got enough to put Sanborn away for life.”

“You fucking bitch,” he said, seething. “
You motherfucking whore
.”

“You’ve got some nerve calling me a whore, Senator. Or should I call you
Mr
. Cook? Convicted felons can’t serve in the United States Senate, can they?” She turned to her audience of shocked staffers. “Anyone know the answer to that? Been a while since high school social studies for me.”

“You’re enjoying this,” Cook said through gritted teeth.

Sam leaned in close to him. “You bet your ass I am.” She marched him out of the Hart Building, past startled congressional staffers and one thrilled news photographer, and stowed him in the backseat of the patrol car. “Follow me,” she said to the two officers, who appeared as stunned as the staffers when they recognized their passenger. “When we get to Seventh Street, one of you stay with him and the other come with me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Back in her car, Sam absorbed a particularly painful cramp before she started the engine and headed for Cheri Anderson’s house, a few blocks from Sam’s and far too close for comfort to the apartment Peter Gibson had rented after their divorce. The thought of running into him only added to the sick feeling in her belly.

Sensing Cook glaring at her from the car, Sam climbed the steps and rang the doorbell. The patrol officer hung back at the foot of the stairs.

The door swung open. An attractive woman in her early forties took in Sam’s badge as well as the officer standing on the sidewalk and released a deep sigh. “Come in. I’ve been expecting you.”

Sam gestured for the other officer to wait outside and followed the woman into a comfortable home. Dressed in khakis and a Catholic University T-shirt, Cheri Anderson looked like a typical suburban mom. That the Catholic U grad was running a prostitution ring out of her home would’ve struck Sam as almost comical if it wasn’t for what had happened to Regina, Maria and Jeannie as a result of the criminal activity.

“When I heard on the news that Daniels, Bartholomew and Sanborn had been arrested, I figured it was only a matter of time before they blamed the whole thing on me and sent you here.”

“For what it’s worth, Daniels didn’t give up your name easily. I tied it to his immunity deal.”

Blue eyes flashed with rage. “So he gets immunity, and I go down for the whole thing?”

“I want Sanborn. He’s the one who murdered two women and kidnapped and raped a police officer.”

“He’s an evil son of a bitch. I’ve always known that. When I heard Regina and Maria had been murdered…I knew it was him. He was so furious when I told him they were pregnant. They were no longer any use to him, and he feared they’d be tempted to venture into blackmail since their immigration status was so tenuous. When I heard they were dead…”

“You knew it was him.”

“Yes.” She glanced up at Sam, eyes bright with tears. “To be honest, I’ve been worried about my own safety. Two days ago, I bought a gun.” She gestured to the artwork decorating her refrigerator. “Having a gun in a house where my children live terrifies me, but I couldn’t let him get me too.”

“How did they recruit you?”

“I worked for Sanborn at the DNC for a couple of years before I had my son. My husband and I, we had a plan—he’d work and I’d stay home with the kids. Then he got laid off just before my son was born. I’d already resigned from the DNC, so we were in a bad place financially. Sanborn must’ve heard about that from one of my former colleagues. He called me, asked if I’d be interested in a business opportunity, and of course I snapped it up, even though I was mortified when I realized what I’d be doing.” She shrugged. “We needed the money.”

“What did you tell your husband?”

“That the DNC had asked me to do some work for them from home.”

“And he never questioned that?”

She shook her head. “I handle all the household money. He has no idea…”

“This might be a good time to tell him.”

Nodding, Cheri wiped away tears and reached for a CD case on the counter. “Clients, employees, finances, records—the entire business. I signed a very restrictive confidentiality agreement when I started with them, but I assume that’s null and void now that they’re all in jail.”

Sam took the CD from her. “How many careers and marriages will this ruin?”

“Scores.” Folding her arms in a protective stance, Cheri said, “What will happen to me?”

“Are you willing testify against the four principals?”

“To stay out of jail? You bet.”

“Let me talk to the U.S. attorney and see what I can do.”

“Are you going to arrest me?”

Sam slipped the CD that cemented her case into her coat pocket. “Not right now. I may be back, though.”

Cheri’s gaze locked on a photo of her children. “I’ll be here.”

Sam sent her detail to HQ and called Captain Malone to let him know that Senator Cook was on his way. She told him of her decision to hold off on arresting Cheri Anderson for the time being—and why.

“Good call. By the way, DNA came back on Maria’s baby—a match for Tillinghast.”

“You can let him know that when you spring him and let his family out of protective custody.”

“Will do. What else can I do to help you clean up the details? I know you’re not feeling well and you probably want to get home.”

“You can have Selina Rameriz’s detail notify her that we’ve arrested the four principals, and tell her the information she gave me was critical to closing the case.”

“Will do.”

“Let her know I’ll check in with her in the next few days about the next steps.”

“Got it. Good work, Lieutenant—as always.”

“Glad to put this one behind me. I’ll be in tomorrow to go through the CD Anderson gave me so we can get busy ruining the lives of some other high-ranking scumbags.”

His laughter sparked hers. “A lot of times this job truly sucks, but other times, it truly doesn’t.”

“Eloquently put, Captain.”

“Go home and put your feet up. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Thanks for handling Cook.”

“My pleasure.”

Sam hung up with him and called Jeannie McBride’s cell number. Michael answered.

“This is Lieutenant Holland. How’s Jeannie?”

“Settled in at my place and sleeping. The trip home seemed to wear her out.”

“Do me a favor when she wakes up, and tell her we got the bastard.”

“Oh God, that’s such a relief,” he said, sounding jubilant. “She’ll be so glad to hear that.”

“Tell her I’ll be by to check on her in the next day or two.”

“I will. Thank you so much for everything you’ve done for us.”

“No problem.” Before she stashed the phone in her coat pocket, Sam sent a text to Shelby and her sisters to postpone the dress plans. She couldn’t deal with that tonight. Leaning against her car, she took a moment in the fading daylight to breathe in the cold February air and absorb the satisfaction of another case successfully closed.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

Shocked out of her reverie, she spun around to find Peter Gibson giving her the once-over. Before he’d affixed crude bombs to her car and Nick’s, Sam had never thought to be afraid of her ex-husband. Antagonistic? Absolutely. But afraid? Never. However, when she remembered the bomb-making materials, the photos of her on the job and the newspaper articles about her they’d found in his apartment…Seeing him now, released from jail on a technicality, Sam experienced true terror for the first time since Clarence Reese carjacked her and held her hostage.

“What do you want?” she asked, trying not to think about the way she’d nailed him in the interrogation room and goaded him about her satisfying sex life with Nick.

“From
you
? Not a damned thing. You gave me everything I needed when you let your officers knock down my door without a warrant. Thanks for that, by the way. I can’t tell you how much I appreciated it.”

“You’re required to stay a thousand feet from me and everyone in my family,” Sam reminded him. Since their acrimonious divorce Sam had been hard-pressed to remember what she’d ever seen in him. His sandy-colored hair was now mostly silver, and the face she’d once found handsome was filled with bitterness.

“This is
my
neighborhood,” he said. “Maybe I need a restraining order to keep
you
away from
me
.”

“Enjoy your freedom. I predict it won’t last. In fact, we’ve got a pool going at HQ as to how long it’ll take you to fuck up again.”

His expression one of mock horror, he said, “Who picked today? I hope it wasn’t you. I’d hate to hand you any easy victories.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, her heart hammering.

“Figure it out. Good to see you, Sam. Hope you’re taking good care of your senator. He didn’t look too hot the last time I saw him. You have a nice night now.”

Nick. Oh God, Nick
. Leaving her car, she took off running because it was faster than driving this time of day. In the background, she heard Peter laughing. If he’d done something to Nick, she’d kill him with her own hands. Pulling her phone from her pocket as she ran, her hands shook as she pressed No. 1 on her speed dial. The call went straight to voicemail. “Oh my God.
Please
…”

Ignoring the increasingly sharp pain in her abdomen, Sam ran as fast a she could. Odd dots of light danced before her eyes just as the sign for Ninth Street appeared in the distance. “Please, please,
please
.”

She rounded the corner and stumbled as she took in the pile of rubble that used to be their front stairs. “Oh,” she whispered. The entire front of the house was in shambles. “No…” Instinctively, she reached for her radio and called for backup, relieved to see no sign of Nick’s car on the street. Her eyes fixed on the wreckage outside their home, Sam inched forward, certain she had to be seeing things. Would Peter really be so stupid as to plant another bomb—on the
same day
he’d been released from prison?