Fatal Consequences (7 page)

Sam hit the speaker button and punched in the phone number for Regina’s mother in Guatemala. Calling victims’ families was the thing she hated most about her job, so she was relieved to turn the task over to Senator Lightfeather. Freddie, who spoke Spanish, was prepared to take notes on the exchange.

A woman answered the phone with a cheerful, “
Hola
.”

Appearing frozen, Lightfeather stared at the phone. Sam had no doubt that this phone call was even harder for him than the one he’d made earlier to his wife. “Senator?” she said softly.

He startled, seeming to realize all at once that everyone was waiting for him.

“
Hola
?” the woman said again.

“Señora Argueta?” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “
Yo estoy Senator Lightfeather.
”

Sam’s limited Spanish allowed her to deduce that Mrs. Argueta recognized the senator’s name and knew he was a friend of her daughter’s.

He spoke softly for another moment before the woman on the other end released a wail of despair.

Sam’s stomach clenched. How anyone survived receiving the news that their child had been murdered she’d never know. These moments were the only time she was ever grateful to be childless.

Tears cascaded down the senator’s tanned face. He brushed them away as he continued to speak softly to the woman on the phone.

Sam glanced at Freddie’s notes. Promising to arrange to have the body sent home as soon as he can, Freddie had written. Promising to continue helping her and Regina’s children. No mention of the baby she’d been expecting.

Lightfeather concluded the phone call and rested his head on his folded arms. His shoulders shook with sobs.

Sam signaled to Freddie that they should give him a moment. Freddie followed her from the room.

“Hard to watch,” Freddie muttered.

“Yeah.”

“No question he genuinely loved her.”

“Or had himself convinced that he did,” Sam said.

“True. How do you want to get him out of here?”

“Take him out through the morgue. Check him into a hotel so we can keep tabs on him. Put a couple of officers on the door and let them know his wife will be joining him later today.”

“Got it. What about the media?”

“I’ll handle them.” Sam left him to deal with the senator and returned to her office to find her nemesis, Lt. Stahl, waiting for her. “What do you want?”

“Nice to see you too, Lieutenant,” Stahl said with a smarmy smile.

“I’m busy.”

“Ahhh, yes, another homicide involving your ‘boyfriend.’ Quite a track record he has lately.”

“He has nothing to do with this, nor did he have anything to do with John O’Connor’s murder or Julian Sinclair’s, as you well know. And PS, he’s my
fiancé
.”

“Your
fiancé
knew all the victims.”

“And that proves what, exactly?”

“That being an acquaintance of his can be bad for your health,” Stahl said, laughing at his own joke.

“You aren’t threatening me—again—are you, Lieutenant?”

“So touchy. Such a woman that way.”

As usual in his presence, Sam held back the urge to smash her fist into his fat face. “As delightful as this conversation has been, I have work to do. If the rat squad isn’t keeping you busy enough, Lieutenant, I’m sure Captain Malone can find something for you to do with your copious free time.”

His jowls jiggled as he scowled at her. “Heard an interesting rumor today.”

“Good for you.”

“About your ex.”

That got Sam’s attention. “What about him?”

“That the case against him isn’t as airtight as you thought it was.”

She pushed her hands into her pockets to keep from punching him. “That case is airtight. I saw to it myself.”

“Not all of it you didn’t.” On his way out the door, he said, “Have a nice day, Lieutenant.”

Hands trembling, Sam reached for the phone to call Malone. “What do you know about Peter?”

The question was greeted with silence, which sent her heart into a wild gallop. “Tell me. Right now.”

Under normal circumstances, she’d never speak so forcefully to her superior officer. But anything having to do with Peter tossed all the usual rules out the window.

“His attorney has requested a suppression hearing to determine whether the evidence gathered from his apartment is fruit of the poisonous tree.”

The term turned her blood to ice. If the bomb-making evidence Freddie, Gonzo and Arnold had found in Peter’s apartment had been gathered improperly, their entire case against him would be in jeopardy.

“We have his print on one of the bombs,” Sam reminded Malone. “The one he strapped to Nick’s car. The one that didn’t detonate.”

“It’s a partial print, Sam. Not enough to hang the case on. We need the stuff from his apartment.”

The very idea of Peter being set free after he’d tried to murder her and Nick made her sick.

“Don’t panic yet,” Malone said. “His attorney still has to convince the judge.”

“What’s the lawyer basing the challenge on?”

“That they kicked in Peter’s door without any evidence linking him to the bombing other than your suspicion.”

“But he did it!”

“We all know he did it, Sam. It’s just the timeline of how we confirmed it that’s under examination. They should’ve waited for the warrant before they busted into the apartment.”

“They had reason to believe that he had bomb-making materials in there! Were they supposed to wait until he blew up the entire building before they acted?”

“They were running on adrenaline and emotion after you were nearly killed.”

Sam sank into her desk chair. “He can
not
be released. He just can’t be.”

“We’ll fight it. Try not to worry.”

“You’re worried. I can hear it in your voice.”

“The chain of events concerns me. It has all along.”

Sam released a low moan. “Oh,
God
. Oh my God.”

“We have media out front clamoring for information about Lightfeather. Do you want me to handle them?”

“No,” Sam said, pulling herself together. “I’ll do it.”

“We’re doing everything we can to keep him where he belongs, Sam.”

“I’m counting on that. Keep me posted?”

“I will.”

She hung up the phone and tried to breathe through the pain circulating in her gut. Since Nick’s doctor friend Harry had ordered her to give up soda, her stomach troubles had been dramatically better. Hearing that Peter might be released from prison, however, brought the pain back in fierce waves. Sam forced herself to breathe—in through the nose, out through the mouth. Repeat.

A few minutes later, she stood up on shaking legs and reached for her coat. She had a job to do, and not even the threat of her malicious ex-husband being released from jail could keep her from doing what needed to be done on Regina’s behalf. The dead woman’s family was counting on Sam for answers, and she would get them what they needed no matter what might be happening in her own life.

Fueled by determination to do what needed to be done, Sam headed for the lobby.

Chief Farnsworth flagged her down before she could head outside. “Lieutenant.” His warm gray eyes studied her with concern.

“Chief.”

“You’ve heard the news about Gibson.”

“Lieutenant Stahl took great pleasure in cueing me in.”

“Sorry. I was on my way to talk to you about it when I got waylaid. Are you all right?”

She nodded. “I’m working the de Castro case. Doing what I do.”

“We’re making use of all available resources to keep Gibson where he belongs.”

“I’m counting on that. Well, the press is looking to take a piece out of me, and you know how I hate to keep them waiting.”

The chief laughed. “Allow me to have your back,” he said, gesturing for the door.

As always, Sam was grateful for his unwavering support.

The instant they stepped through the double doors, the reporters pounced.

“Has Senator Lightfeather been arrested for murder?”

“How does he know the dead woman?”

“Were they having an affair?”

“Is he in custody?”

The chief held up his hands to stop the barrage of questions. “If you give Lieutenant Holland the chance to speak, she has a brief statement that should answer some of your questions.”

Sam stepped forward, burrowing deeper into her coat. The February day had grown frigid and stormy. “Senator Lightfeather discovered Regina Argueta de Castro dead last night in her Columbia Heights apartment.”

“How did he know her?”

“She worked for the company that cleans the Capitol and congressional offices. Throughout the night, the senator cooperated with our efforts to confirm his alibi, which we have now done. He has been released with instructions to remain in the District until we close the case. Ms. Argueta de Castro was from Guatemala and was in the country legally. Her mother and two children in Guatemala survive her, and they have been notified of her death. That is all I’m going to say at this point. We’ll keep you informed as developments occur.”

“Were they romantically involved?”

“No comment.”

“How do you feel about your ex being sprung from prison?”

“Absolutely no comment.”

As Chief Farnsworth ushered her back inside, Sam realized if the press knew about Peter it was only a matter of time before Nick would hear about it too.

“I need to make a phone call,” she said to the chief.

“Go right ahead.”

Sam started to walk away but turned back when he called out to her.

“If he gets sprung,” the chief said, “we’ll be so far up his ass he won’t be able to fart without us knowing about it.”

“Thanks.” Sam didn’t trust herself to say anything more without losing her famous cool. She knew he was trying to comfort her, but the very thought of that monster on the loose again was enough to turn her legs to jelly. He’d tried to
blow her up
. All because she’d reconciled with Nick—six years after Peter had gone to extraordinary lengths to keep them apart.

Back in the detective’s pit, she closed the door to her office, sank into her chair and called Nick.

“Hey, babe,” he said. “How’s it going?”

The smile she heard in his voice went a long way toward soothing her frayed nerves. “I’ve had better days. You?”

“What’s wrong? And don’t say it’s nothing.”

“This time it’s not nothing.” She told him about Peter’s case possibly falling apart.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

That he was swearing told her a lot about how upset he was. Nick never swore. That was
her
claim to fame. “I wish I was.”

“We’ve got to do something. What can we do?”

“There will be a hearing, and hopefully the judge has an ounce of sense.”

“If they let him go, he’ll come at you again.”

“Maybe his stint in prison has scared some sense into him.”

“You don’t believe that any more than I do. He’s totally obsessed with you, and now he’s even more pissed off than he was before.”

“Malone and Farnsworth assured me they’re doing everything they can to keep him in jail.”

“Does he have a leg to stand on with this hearing?”

“He might,” Sam said, hating to admit it. She filled him in on the issue with the warrant. “If they suppress the evidence we found in his apartment, our entire case falls apart. A partial print isn’t enough to prosecute.”

“This is such
bullshit
! He was caught red-handed!”

“I hate to do this to you when you’re so busy. Sorry.”

“I’m never too busy for you, babe. And you have nothing to be sorry about. You’re the victim in this case.”

“We both are.” He’d been more severely injured in the bombing, suffering a mild concussion and a cut over his eye that had required stitches and left a scar.

“I’ll make a few phone calls,” he said. “See what I can find out.”

“Don’t do anything politically risky, Nick. That’d be playing right into his hand.”

“They’re phone calls. That’s all.”

She had no doubt one of those calls would be to the U.S. Attorney himself. Her fiancé was nothing if not well connected in Washington.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

“I’ll be better when you get home tonight.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can break free of the fundraising thing.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Thanks. How’s Henry?”

“Sprung for now. His wife is on her way here from Arizona.”

“Yikes. I don’t envy him that confrontation.”

“If he’d kept his fly zipped, there’d be nothing to confront him about.”

“True,” Nick said, chuckling.

“You know I’d have to kill you, don’t you?”

“Kill me for what? What’ve I done now?”

“If you ever cheated,” she said in a small voice, instantly regretting going there. She tensed, awaiting his reply.

“Samantha,” he said, his tone chastising. “Tell me you didn’t just say that.”

“I didn’t just say that. I know I have nothing to worry about, even when all that senatorial power goes to your head.”

“It may go to my head, but it’ll never get to my zipper.”

Sam laughed. He always knew just what to say to her. “I’ll see you when you get home.”

“Yes, you will, and we’ll have a more in-depth discussion about who gets access to my zipper—and who does not.”

“I’ll look forward to that, Senator.”

“As well you should. Love you, babe. Thanks for calling and giving me a heads-up about Peter.”

She’d learned the hard way not to keep things from him and appreciated that he recognized she was making an effort in that area of their relationship. “Love you too. See you soon.”

Sam put down the phone and gave herself a moment to decompress before she considered her next move in Regina’s case. She was going over the less-than-fruitful reports from the crime scene detectives and the canvas of Regina’s building when Freddie stepped into the office, a grim expression on his face.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Freddie said, startled by the question. “I just walked in the door. What makes you think something’s the matter?”

“I know you, and I can tell just by looking at you that something is wrong. You’ve been off all morning.”

“So on top of all your other formidable skills, now you’re psychic too?”

“Sit,” she said, pointing to the door and then the chair on the other side of her desk.

Frowning, Freddie pushed the door closed and sat. “What?”

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s nothing to do with work or the case. Lightfeather is stashed at the Washington Hilton with two guards as directed. No one followed us, and I checked him in under the name of Jim Dalton. Can I get back to work now?”

“Not until you tell me why your shoulders are hunched and you haven’t smiled all day.”

“I’m tired, and we’re working a rape and murder. Am I supposed to be whistling ‘Dixie’ at the same time? I wasn’t aware of that job requirement.”

“Despite your sarcasm, you’re not walking out that door until you tell me what’s bugging you.”

“Just because we’ve talked about stuff in the past doesn’t mean I have to share my every thought with you.”

Wow, he was really in a mood. Sam raised a brow to let him know he wasn’t going to escape her clutches.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, slumping into the chair. “I shouldn’t talk to you that way.”

“When it’s just you and me and the door is closed, you should speak to me any way you see fit.” It was as close as she’d ever come to letting him know she valued their friendship as much as their working relationship.

Seeming surprised, he said, “So it’s okay to tell you you’re being nosy and that you should butt out?”

“Sure, but it doesn’t mean I will.”

“God, you’re a
pain
.”

She smiled. Nick often said the same thing about her, and Sam always took it as a compliment. “I prefer
dogged
.”

“That too,” Freddie said. “Fine! If you must know, my mother is driving me crazy.”

Sam hadn’t seen that coming. “Over what?”

Freddie gave her a “you know” look.

“Ahhh, Mama Cruz doesn’t approve of the girlfriend, huh?”

“No,” he said miserably. “And she won’t even give Elin a chance. We had a good talk last night and I thought things would be better, but when I went to check on her before work this morning, we got into it again. Not sure if it’s the fever or what, but she’s making me nuts!”

Sam stood up, clipped her portable radio to her hip and grabbed her car keys. “Let’s discuss this on the road.”

He stood. “Where’re we going?”

“First to talk to Regina’s boss and then hopefully to some of her coworkers.”

“I’m with you, boss.”

Sam waited while he got the trench coat that he claimed made him feel like Colombo and then led the way to her car. After starting the car she gave some considerable thought to Freddie’s predicament. “I can understand where Mama is coming from.”

“Great,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Thanks for the support. I really appreciate it.”

“Wait. Hear me out. It’s just that when I think of you with a woman, I see someone…different…than Elin for you. Someone…softer, I guess.”

“What about what
I
see? Doesn’t anyone care about what
I
want?”

“Hmm,” Sam said. “How to say this delicately?”

“Oh, for crying out loud. Just say it. What do you care about being delicate?”

“It seems…to those of us on the outside looking in…that you may be letting your, um, little brain do the thinking for your big brain.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the glare he directed her way. “That’s not the case.”

“Are you sure of that?”

“I
like
her! Why doesn’t anyone believe that’s possible?”

“Okay, I’ll bite. What do you like about her?”

“She’s…fun and nice and sweet.”

“Uh huh. What else?”

“What do you mean what else? Isn’t that enough?”

“No. Fun and sweet and nice is not enough to build a relationship on.”

“It’s more than Nick started with. There’s nothing nice or sweet about you.”

Sam snorted with laughter. “Good one.”

“Thank you. I try.”

“What do you talk to her about besides ‘your place or mine’?”

“We talk about sports and our friends, our work. The usual stuff.”

“If you’re together three hours, how much of that time is spent talking?”

“I don’t know. I hardly keep track of that.”

“Guess.”

She could see him squirming in the passenger seat. “An hour or so.”

“So one hour talking, two hours screwing. Can you see why your mother might be concerned?”

“No! She doesn’t know that!”

“Freddie, come on. Of course she knows. You practically pant and drool whenever Elin is around. It’s obvious to everyone that you’re hot for her.”

“I ask again…so
what
? Why does everyone care so much that I’m hot for her?”

“Because it’s not like you to be so…preoccupied.”

“I waited a long time for this, Sam. I wish everyone would butt the heck out and let me live my own life.”

“We’re worried about you. That’s all.”

“Well, don’t worry. I’m a big boy, and I can take care of myself. I don’t need you and my mother ganging up on me and screwing with my head. I’m happy with Elin. Can’t that be enough for you?”

“I’m sure you’re very happy when you’re in bed with her. It’s the rest of the time we’re concerned about.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, and to be honest, it’s none of your business. Or my mother’s.”

“That’s very true. So I will do as you ask and butt out.”

“Good.”

“Fine.”

They rode the rest of the way to the Capitol Cleaning Services headquarters in uneasy—and unusual—silence. Inside, they were ushered into the offices of JoAnn Smithson, the owner of the company.

Mrs. Smithson looked to be in her late fifties or early sixties, and judging from her haggard appearance, Sam deduced she hadn’t slept well the night before.

After giving them permission to record the interview, Mrs. Smithson folded her hands on top of her cluttered desk. “What can I do to help you find the person who did this to Regina?”

“How long had she been in your employ?” Sam asked.

“Just over two years.” She retrieved a file from a stack on the desk and handed it to them. “Here’s her personnel file. As you can see, she had all the proper paperwork.”

Freddie reached for the folder and flipped through the contents.

“If we checked the rest of your files, we’d find that to be true of all your employees?” Sam asked.

Mrs. Smithson stiffened. “We do
not
hire undocumented workers. We work for
Congress
, Lieutenant. How long do you think we’d hold that contract if I had illegal workers traipsing through the Capitol?”

“Not long I’d imagine. How well did you know Regina?”

“Quite well. I make it a point to know all my employees.” She sagged into the chair. “Her poor mother and children. Have they been told of her death?”

“Yes. Were you aware of her relationship with Senator Lightfeather?”

Mrs. Smithson sat up straighter. “Relationship? What relationship did she have with a senator? She cleaned his office.”

“According to the senator, they were romantically involved.”

The color drained from Mrs. Smithson’s face. “That’s not possible,” she sputtered. “We have rules…strict rules about decorum and behavior. She wouldn’t have…” She glanced up at Sam and Freddie. Their expressions must have confirmed the truth. Once again she sagged. “I can’t believe this.”

“How much was she paid?”

“Seventeen dollars an hour, plus benefits.”

“We’d like to speak to some of her friends or coworkers, anyone who might’ve been aware of what was going on between Regina and the senator. We’re also looking for some insight into her life outside of work.”

“Maria Espanosa,” Mrs. Smithson said. “They were close friends.”

“Where can we find her?”

Mrs. Smithson wrote down an address, also in Columbia Heights, and handed it to Sam. “She didn’t come into work last night, and no one has heard from her. I planned to check on her when I leave the office.”

Sam churned with anxiety. “Is it like her to miss work?”

“She’s never missed a shift.”

Sam glanced at Freddie and sensed they were on the same wavelength.

Mrs. Smithson watched their silent communication. “You don’t think…”

“We’ll check on her and let you know what we find.”

“Will it be all over the media that Regina was messing around with a senator?”

“We haven’t confirmed that information to the press yet,” Sam said. “But it’s only a matter of time before it becomes public.”

“Oh God,” Mrs. Smithson said, massaging her temples as tears flooded her already-reddened eyes. “God. Everything I’ve worked for…all these years. We have rules…”

“You might want to look into hiring a firm that specializes in crisis communication,” Freddie suggested. “So you can be prepared to deal with the media.”

“Yes,” Mrs. Smithson said, brightening. “That’s a good idea. Thank you.”

“We’ll be in touch if we need any further information.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Mrs. Smithson said as she escorted them past the wary glances of several other employees on their way to the main door. “Please let me know when you find Maria.”

“We will,” Freddie assured her.

“While we’re on the Hill,” Sam said to Freddie once they were outside, “let’s take a look at the senator’s office.”

He grunted in reply.

Sam stopped and turned to him. “I know you’re pissed with me, and that’s your prerogative, but try to keep in mind that I only said what I did because I don’t want you to end up heartbroken at the end of this. Trust me when I tell you that’s no fun at all.”

“I heard everything you said. And I’ve heard everything my mother has had to say. Now I’d really appreciate it if you’d both leave me alone to live my own life.”

“Sure thing,” she said, even as she wondered how she’d ever stand idly by and watch a woman walk all over his tender heart with stiletto heels. “I don’t know about you, but I want to see this famous sofa where the senator boffed the cleaning lady.”

Freddie rolled his eyes at her crudeness, and Sam hoped they’d put things back on track.

Gonzo sat perfectly still and tried to stay focused on what the lawyer, Andy, was saying in response to Christina’s many questions. Words flew past him: DNA tests, custody hearings, social workers. All he could think about was that dimpled chin. He didn’t need a DNA test to tell him he’d met his son earlier that day—and the child’s mother hadn’t even given him a name.

“He can’t breathe in that house,” Gonzo said, interrupting them. He felt like he was coming out of his skin as he remembered the conditions in which his son was living. “We have to get him out of there.”

“We’ll move as quickly as we can to file for custody,” Andy assured him. Blond and handsome, he looked every bit the Yale-educated attorney. “Of course, we can’t do a thing until we’ve confirmed paternity.”

“He looks like me,” Gonzo said. “He has my dimple.”

“I’m glad you were able to see a basic resemblance,” Andy said, smiling. “That’ll help you to feel confident you’re doing the right thing pursuing custody.”

“I’d want him out of there if he was mine or not. She didn’t even give him a name.” Gonzo simply couldn’t get his head around that.

“I know, Detective,” Andy said. “It’s inexcusable. I have a baby of my own and can’t imagine him living nameless in a smoke-infested environment. However, I have to caution you, custody cases can often be an uphill battle for fathers. Even when the father proves he can provide a better home than the mother, the courts often rule in favor of the mother.”

Gonzo couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Even if she’s filling his little lungs with smoke?”

“Unfortunately, it often has to be something more than that to get the court’s attention—abuse, drugs, criminal activity occurring inside the home. Smoke, on its own, won’t be enough.”

“I’d bet my badge that smoking isn’t the only thing going on there.” Gonzo cast a wary glance at Christina. “She was quite the partier when I knew her.”

“Any information you happen to ‘stumble upon’ that can be used against her in court would be information worth having, if you catch my drift.”

Gonzo took in the pointed look Andy directed his way and nodded to show he understood what Andy was telling him.

“I’ll do what I can for you, as long as you understand that the odds are stacked against you going in,” Andy said. “And these things can get very, very costly.”

“I hate to ask this because I’ll pay whatever it takes, but, ah, how much are we talking?”

“Tens of thousands.”

Gonzo winced. He had some money, but not that much. No matter. He’d find a way to get what he needed to protect his son, including an appeal to his parents if it came to that.

“Don’t worry about the money,” Christina said, casting an uncomfortable glance his way. Before Gonzo could ask what she meant, she stood and extended her hand to Andy. “Thank you so much for coming into the office on a Sunday.”

“Any friend of the senator’s is a friend of mine.” He shook Gonzo’s hand. “I’ll call Social Services to get them over there to check on him, and I’ll get the ball rolling with the request for DNA from the baby. If she’s interested in your money, she’s apt to give up the DNA without objection. Give me a day or two, and I’ll be in touch.”

“Thank you,” Gonzo said. “I appreciate your help.”

Feeling as if he was outside himself watching someone else navigate the elevator, Gonzo was aware of Christina silently guiding him back to the car. Once there, he turned to her. “What’d you mean in there? About the money?”

She looked up at him. “I have some. If it comes to that.”

Shaking his head, he said, “No way. I’m not taking money from you.”

“You heard what he said, Tommy,” she said, her hands resting on his chest. He wondered if she could feel his heart racing. “This could get really expensive. What if you run out of money before you get custody?”