Fatal Justice (18 page)

Sam and Jeannie pulled up in front of Devon Sinclair’s swanky Dupont Circle townhouse just after one o’clock. She had two hours before the Internal Affairs hearing and intended to put the time to good use. Through a call to Devon’s law firm, she had learned that he was on bereavement leave.

“Nice digs for an associate,” she said.

“You’re sure you’re up for this, Lieutenant?” Jeannie asked as they climbed the stone stairs. “Tyrone and I could take the lead on this one.” She referred to her usual partner.

“I keep telling everyone I’m fine,” Sam said, exasperated.

“Just asking.”

She turned to Jeannie. “What would you do? If it’d happened to you, would you go home and take to your bed?”

“I’d probably do what you’re doing.”

“Good, so maybe we can drop it now?” She missed Cruz who was a lot more fun to abuse than McBride.

“You’re the boss.”

“Lieutenant Holland!”

Sam spun around and groaned when she saw Darren Tabor, her least favorite reporter from the
Washington Star
, and several other reporters chasing after her. “Not now, Darren.”

“Just a couple of questions about what happened with Reese.”

“Not now.”
She pushed past them and went up the stairs to Devon Sinclair’s townhouse.

“You’re so popular,” Jeannie muttered under her breath.

Sam made a face at her and rang the bell.

Devon Sinclair came to the door. An interesting mix of his parents, he was tall and handsome with close-cropped brown hair and devastated, red-rimmed eyes.

“Mr. Sinclair?”

“Yes.”

“Lieutenant Holland and Detective McBride.” Sam held out her badge for his inspection. “May we have a few minutes of your time?”

He ushered them into a stylish, contemporary living room where another young man was stretched out on the sofa. “My brother, Austin,” Devon said, introducing them. “I assume this is about Julian.”

“Yes,” Sam replied. “Would you mind if we tape our conversation?”

With a weary gesture, Devon granted permission.

“We’re sorry for your loss,” Sam said.

“Thank you.” Devon took a seat next to his brother who sat up to make room. Austin was blond and favored their mother.

“You were close to your uncle?”

“Very. This is just the most horrible thing.” Devon’s eyes filled. “I’m sorry. We’re still in shock.”

“I’m sure you are. Had you seen him recently?”

“We had lunch with him the day he got to town. He was so excited about the nomination—nervous about the hearings, of course, but mostly excited. We said later that he seemed truly happy for the first time in a long time.”

“Did either of your parents know you had seen him?”

“We told our dad,” Austin said.

“Did you know Julian’s friend, Duncan Quick?” Sam asked.

“Yes, we knew him quite well. Julian had been really down since they broke up, but the nomination seemed to have lifted his spirits.”

“I understand from talking to your parents that your father and uncle had been estranged for a number of years,” Sam said.

“Since we were young,” Austin said. “We’d always been very close with him, spent a lot of time at his house, went on trips. But that all ended after my mother saw him with Duncan.”

“She totally freaked,” Devon added. “We didn’t see him again for years—until we were adults and could make our own decisions.”

“Did you know the reason for the estrangement?” Jeannie asked.

Austin glanced at his brother. “We had our suspicions. We knew Julian was gay and that our mother didn’t approve. It’s not that she’s a bad person.”

“She has strong views,” Devon said. “She’s worked really hard for the career she has.”

“And an openly gay brother-in-law on the Supreme Court might not help her ambitions,” Sam said.

“While we don’t necessarily agree with her, we admire her tenacity,” Devon said, sounding more like a sound bite than a son.

“Was your mother ambitious enough to kill your uncle to keep the family’s dirty little secret in the closet?” she asked.

Both men blanched.

“
Kill
him?” Austin asked, his eyes wide. “She’s a deeply spiritual person. She could never harm anyone.”

“Were her ambitions more important than the two of you or your father?”

“Of course not,” Devon said, but Sam detected a note of hesitation. “She’s very devoted to her family.”

“How would you describe your parents’ marriage?” Sam asked.

“Loving,” Austin said. “They’re the best of friends.”

“Would you say that your mother is in charge, though?”

“What does this have to do with Julian?” Devon asked.

“We’re trying to determine what role, if any, the estrangement with your parents might’ve played in your uncle’s death,” Jeannie said. “This information helps us to paint a picture.”

After a long pause, Austin said, “My mom was in charge when we were at home. I can’t really say how it is between them now. She’s pursued the goal of writing her book and having her own show for many years. It’s taken a lot of her time.”

“Is she a conservative Christian?” Jeannie asked.

“Yes,” Devon said. “In recent years when Julian’s name came up, she was fond of quoting Leviticus who preached that it’s an ‘abomination’ punishable by death for men to have sex with other men the way they would with women.”

“Do either of you believe that?” Jeannie asked.

“We came of age in a different time,” Austin said. “A more tolerant time.”

“So that’s a no?” Jeannie asked.

“That’s a no,” Austin replied. “We loved our uncle and supported him the same way he supported us.”

“But you did that behind your mother’s back,” Sam said.

“We love them both,” Devon said. “We were in an awkward position. Our goal was to keep the peace. It was better that she didn’t know.”

“Can you think of anyone who might want to harm him? Any enemies or rivals?”

Devon shook his head. “We’ve been wracking our brains trying to think of who could’ve done this to him. He had strong opinions and ideals, but he had respect for other people’s beliefs, too. That kept him from attracting a lot of overt enemies.”

Unlike your mother
, Sam thought,
who has no respect for others’ beliefs and has attracted an army of enemies
.

“You said he was nervous about the hearings,” Jeannie said, “but did he express any worries about his safety or the controversy surrounding his nomination?”

“Not about his safety so much,” Austin said.

“He’d declined Secret Service protection,” Devon added.

Devon nodded. “He had some reservations about the protestors. He was afraid they’d be disruptive, but I’m sure he never suspected someone would want to kill him.”

“Where were you both the night before last?” Sam asked.

“
We’re
suspects
?
” Devon asked.

“We need to rule you out,” Sam said.

Austin sat up a little straighter at the talk of alibis. “I was with my girlfriend at her place.”

“We’ll need her name and number.” Sam turned to Devon. “And you?”

“I was here.”

“Alone?”

“Most of the night. My roommate got home from work around one. He’s a waiter.”

“And did you see him? Talk to him?”

Devon’s eyes darted to his brother. “Yes.”

Sam’s radar went on alert. “Is there something else, Mr. Sinclair? If so, this would be the time to tell us.”

Devon’s entire body went rigid with tension.

“Tell them, Dev,” Austin said softly.

“Shut up,” Devon snapped. “It’s got no bearing on what happened to Julian.”

“Mr. Sinclair, anything you tell us will remain confidential unless it directly affects the case.”

“We’ve told you everything we know,” Devon said, sounding more desperate.

Sam stared him down. “Except?”

Devon glared at his brother. “My roommate, Tucker. He’s my…We’re involved.”

“And I take it your parents are unaware of this?”

“Yes,” Devon said through gritted teeth. “And so are his. We’d like to keep it that way.”

“How long have you been aware of your brother’s orientation?” Jeannie asked Austin.

“Always.”

“And your parents have no clue?” Jeannie asked.

“I’ve gone to great lengths to keep my private life private,” Devon said.

“Did your uncle know?” Sam asked.

“Yes,” Devon said softly. “He was the only one in my life who understood. In a lot of ways, other than my brother, Julian was my best friend.”

Austin rested a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder, the two of them united in their grief.

Sam stood up, and Jeannie followed suit. “Is your roommate home at the moment?”

Panic-stricken, Devon looked up at her. “No, why?”

“We need to confirm your alibi. A formality. Can we get his name and number?”

Reluctantly, Devon got up and wrote down the information. Handing the piece of paper to Sam, he said, “You don’t need to tell him I told you about us, do you?”

“I don’t see any need to mention it.”

“Thank you,” he said, relieved.

Austin handed her a sticky note with his girlfriend’s name and number.

“One other question,” Sam said. “Were you Julian’s heirs?”

“Yes,” Austin said. “We’ll each inherit half his estate.”

“I know I speak for my brother when I say we’d give up every dime we stand to gain to have him back,” Devon said.

After witnessing their devastation, Sam believed him.

Outside, Sam released a long deep breath. “Wow. I don’t envy that kid the road he has ahead of him.”

“Me either. That mother is a piece of work.”

“I’d like to dig a little deeper into Diandra Sinclair’s background. We also need to take a closer look at Julian’s cell phone and e-mail records. He had arranged a late-night meeting with someone. I want to know who it was.”

“The cell records didn’t show any activity after he arrived at the senator’s house for dinner, so whatever he was up to, it was planned before he went to dinner.”

“Let’s find out what it was. I also want to know why the Secret Service saw fit to offer him protection.” Sam checked her watch. “Damn it. I don’t have time to do much of anything before that stupid hearing. I guess I’ll run by and check on Cruz real quick.”

“I’ll go with you.” When they were in the car, Jeannie looked over at her. “I hope you know everyone thinks this thing with IAB is totally bogus, Lieutenant. Stahl is out for revenge because they gave you his command.”

Sam’s stomach kicked into gear when she thought about the hearing. “He’s had it in for me long before now. And let’s face it, I handed him a gift by hooking up with Nick in the middle of O’Connor.”

“It’s going to be fine.”

Sam wished she could be so confident.

“What does Nick say about it?”

“I haven’t told him.”

“Why not?”

Sam shrugged. “He’s got enough going on without having to worry about me getting in trouble because of him. There’s no need for him to know about it.”

“If you say so. Besides, you’re probably right. He’s been through an awful lot lately.”

“Exactly.” But recalling their conversation in the shower, Sam couldn’t help but feel guilty for keeping it from him.

Sam waited outside the Internal Affairs hearing room. They were running late, which had sent her stomach into a spiral. She focused on breathing: in through the nose, out through the mouth. It wouldn’t have been so bad if she knew she’d done nothing wrong and could chalk this up to a witch hunt by Stahl.

But that wasn’t the case.

She had screwed up by getting involved with Nick during the O’Connor investigation. He’d found the body, which made him a material witness. She should’ve stayed as far away from him as she could get until the case was closed. That he had been instrumental to her successfully closing the case might not matter to the board.

Though she had participated in many IAB hearings during her career, she’d never been the subject of one, even after the fiasco with the Johnson case. An internal investigation had cleared her of any wrongdoing in the death of young Quentin Johnson in the crack house shooting, but the department psychologist had recommended a thirty-day administrative leave. The penalty this time could be much stiffer.

Deputy Chief Conklin, Sam’s delegate to the three-person panel, came out to get her. “Lieutenant? We’re ready for you.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Inside the room, Conklin joined Stahl and Captain Andrews from the bomb squad at the head table. The three of them would determine her fate. Chief Farnsworth and Captain Malone were also in attendance. A stenographer was set to record the proceedings.

“Before we begin,” said Stahl, who was clearly enjoying this. “I’d like to once again protest the appointment of Deputy Chief Conklin to this panel. He maintains a close personal relationship with the lieutenant’s father, and his participation here is a conflict of interest.”

“As I’ve told you before, Lieutenant,” Conklin said, “find me anyone in this department—besides yourself of course—who doesn’t hold retired Deputy Chief Holland in the highest regard. Per the officer bill of rights, Lieutenant Holland can choose anyone she wishes to act as her delegate to this panel. You’re wasting everyone’s time with this protest.”

“I agree,” Andrews said. “Let’s move on.”

Stahl levied a hateful stare in Sam’s direction. “Very well, Lieutenant Holland, raise your right hand.” He swore her in and gestured for her to be seated. “You’ve waived your right to representation?”

“I have.” She saw no need to suck someone else off real police work when she was more than capable of defending herself.

“And you’re aware of why you’re here today?”

“You believe I exercised poor judgment in becoming romantically involved with Nicholas Cappuano during the O’Connor investigation.”

Stahl stared at her. Clearly, he hadn’t expected her to be so forthcoming. “That’s correct,” he stammered.

Sam noticed that Captain Malone had a hand over his mouth as if trying to hide a smile.

Stahl cleared his throat. “And to that you say?”

“I can’t deny that I become close to Mr. Cappuano during the investigation, or that he was enormously helpful to me and Detective Cruz as we worked to close that case,” Sam said, thrilled to realize she was ruffling Stahl.

“Did you know Mr. Cappuano before the O’Connor investigation?”

Ignoring the grind in her stomach, Sam said, “Yes.”

“Please elaborate.”

“We met six years ago at a party. We spent one night together and didn’t see each other again until Senator O’Connor was found murdered.”

“And why did you never see him again?”

“A series of misunderstandings.”

“Did you disclose this prior relationship with the witness to your superior officers?”

“I did not.”

“Why not?”

“It wasn’t relevant. It was one night six years ago.”

“Did it occur to you at the time that your failure to disclose the relationship might endanger the investigation?”

“No.”

“At no time did you think, maybe I ought to tell someone that I know this guy? That I slept with this guy?”

“As I said, since the relationship spanned one night six years earlier, I didn’t see how it was relevant to the investigation. Mr. Cappuano was a tremendous asset and saved us a lot of time we would’ve wasted figuring out who the players were.”

“When did you clear Mr. Cappuano of any possible culpability in the senator’s murder?”

“Right away. He had an airtight alibi, no motive and his heartbreak over the loss of his friend and boss was genuine. At no time was he a suspect.”

“Even after you learned that he was the beneficiary of a two million dollar life insurance policy left by Senator O’Connor?”

“Mr. Cappuano was never a suspect.”

“At what point during the investigation did your relationship with Mr. Cappuano become personal again?”

“The first night.”

Stahl’s eyes lit up with glee.

Sam worked to keep her tone calm and even. “He called me when he realized someone had been in his house.”

“So the first night of the O’Connor investigation, you went to Mr. Cappuano’s home?”

“That’s correct.”

“Located where?”

“At that time it was in Arlington, Virginia.”

“Which is well outside your jurisdiction.”

“I had given him my card with instructions to call if he thought of anything that might help the investigation. When he arrived home and discovered disarray, he did as I asked by calling me. After I got to his house and confirmed that someone had entered the home, I called Arlington police.”

“And your relationship took a personal turn that night?”

“I waited with him while Arlington investigated. During that time, he provided more background on the O’Connor family relationships. After the police left, we discussed our personal relationship, which he wished to resume. I told him it would have to wait until the investigation concluded.”

“Did it?”

A sharp pain in her stomach stole her breath. This is where things got dicey. “Despite my intentions, the relationship later became serious.”

“Did you disclose that to your superiors?”

“I did not. It still had no bearing on the investigation.”

“How did your relationship with Mr. Cappuano become public?”

“When my ex-husband planted crude bombs on both our cars. The bomb on my car exploded, injuring both Mr. Cappuano and myself.”

“This occurred where?”

“In front of Mr. Cappuano’s Arlington home.”

“You were there for what reason?”

Sam swallowed the ball of panic forming in her throat. “I had spent the night there.”

“How many days into the O’Connor investigation was this?”

“Three.”

“That didn’t take long.”

“Can the editorializing, Lieutenant Stahl,” Conklin said.

With a smarmy smile, Stahl said, “Lieutenant Holland, did your superiors confront you about the relationship after the bombing?”

“I discussed it with both Captain Malone and Chief Farnsworth, both of whom accepted my explanation of how the relationship transpired and how helpful Mr. Cappuano had been to the investigation.”

“What is your relationship today with Mr. Cappuano?”

“
Senator
Cappuano and I are in a committed relationship as you and everyone in Washington knows.”

“Do you think the very public nature of your relationship with the senator could be seen as a detriment to your duties as a police officer?”

“In a perfect world, the media would have no interest in us. Unfortunately, I don’t live in that world.”

“Do either of you have any questions?” Stahl asked Conklin and Andrews. Both declined. “In light of Lieutenant Holland’s testimony and her inappropriate relationship with a material witness, I recommend two weeks unpaid suspension and reduction in rank to detective.”

Sam suppressed a gasp. Two ranks! That couldn’t happen. But she refused to give Stahl the satisfaction of an emotional outburst.

“The panel will consider the recommendation in executive session,” Conklin said. “Lieutenant Holland, we appreciate your candor. You’ll be informed of our decision.”

“Thank you, Deputy Chief Conklin. If I may, I’d like to say one more thing—obviously, I don’t wish to lose my current rank, but I want you to know that if I had the O’Connor investigation to do over again, I wouldn’t change a single thing. That’s all.”

She got up and left the room. It was out of her hands.

Nick and Christina returned to his office after a marathon meeting of the Senate Homeland Security and Governmental Affairs Committee. Once they had gone over their notes and made a to-do list, she got up to leave.

“Thanks again for going with me earlier,” he said. “And yesterday, too.”

“Lots of drama lately.”

“Yes.”

She looked at him as if there was something else she wanted to say but had thought better of it.

“What’s on your mind, Chris?” She studied him for a long moment. “Are you going to, you know, go running out of here every time something happens with her?”

“I don’t know,” he said, caught off guard by the question. “Maybe. Do you have a problem with that?”

“No, it’s just that you might not always be able to. You have so many commitments and obligations now. It’s different than before.”

“I’m well aware that my role has changed. We’re just going through a period of transition. On multiple fronts.” He paused before he added, “I know you’ve had a lot on your plate doing two jobs over the last month, but Terry will be starting soon. It should get better then.”

“I guess we’ll see how that works out. You have a nice evening, Senator.”

“You, too.”

For a long time after she left, he sat and stared at the painting of the Capitol that Sam had given him for Christmas. He thought about what Christina had said and acknowledged that she made a good point. It wouldn’t always be possible for him to go running when Sam was in trouble—not that she expected him to. But he couldn’t imagine sitting through a committee meeting, for instance, if he knew someone was holding her hostage.

They were definitely navigating uncharted waters here, and everyone was going to have to make some adjustments. He finally had time to pick up that day’s
Washington Post
, which had devoted much of the front page to Julian’s murder. At least they had taken a break from reporting about his romance with Sam. As Nick read the coverage about Julian, he was once again filled with sadness over the loss of his friend.

Suddenly, he remembered an op-ed piece that had run the week before in which Tony Sanducci, a leading abortion protestor, had spouted off about Julian’s nomination and the setback it could represent to the rights of the unborn. He had urged his followers to take any steps necessary to stop the nomination. Nick wondered if Sam had thought to talk to Sanducci. Nick reached for the phone to call her, but got voicemail.

“Hey, babe, it’s me. Listen, I was thinking you ought to check out an editorial that ran in the
Post
a week or so ago. Tony Sanducci went off about Julian. Might be a good lead. I’ll send a link to your e-mail. I’ll be home in an hour or so. Maybe we can take another shower or something.” The memory of their earlier shower made him smile. “Love you.”

Sam emerged from the hearing and went straight to the restroom. The pain in her stomach bent her in half. In a cold sweat, she closed the stall door and rested against it, fighting for every breath.

She’d meant it when she told the board she wouldn’t change a thing about the O’Connor investigation. Nick was, without a doubt, the best thing to ever happen to her. How could she regret falling in love with him? How could she regret the magic his love had brought to her life? But to be busted down to detective, just as she achieved her longtime goal of making lieutenant…

“God,” she whispered, the enormity of it almost too much to bear.

She took another ten minutes to pull herself together. Determined to get out of there on time for once, she returned to the detectives’ pit where a crowd waited for her.

Gonzo pounced first. “Lieutenant, how did it go?”

“Are you all right?” Jeannie asked.

“Stahl’s an asshole,” Arnold chimed in. “This is all about you getting his command.”

Sam held up her hand to stop them. “I appreciate the support, Arnold, but this is about me hooking up with a witness during a homicide investigation. While Lieutenant Stahl may have ulterior motives, he’s entirely within his rights to call for an IAB inquiry.”

“It’s so
fucked up
,” Gonzo said, his face tight with dismay. “The senator was instrumental in you closing O’Connor as fast as you did. That should count for something.”

“We’ll see if it does,” Sam said, resigned now to whatever fate awaited her. “In the meantime, where are we with Sinclair?”

“I’m digging around in Diandra’s background like we discussed,” Jeannie said. “I should have a report for you in a couple of hours.”

“We aren’t authorized any O.T. on this one,” Sam reminded her.

“I’ll do it on my own time,” Jeannie said.

Sam sent her a grateful smile, knowing Jeannie had been moved by Nick’s devastation after hearing about Sinclair. The brotherhood—or in this case sisterhood—among her fellow officers had always been Sam’s favorite part of the job. Luckily, there were a lot more like Jeannie and Gonzo and Cruz than there were like Stahl.

“I’m going to head home,” Sam said. “Shoot your report to my email. I’ll be working later.”

“Will do, Lieutenant,” Jeannie said. “Try not to worry too much. Conklin and Andrews know you’re a great cop and a gifted detective. It’s going to be fine. I’m sure of it.”

“It’d better be,” Gonzo added.

“Watch your blood pressure, Gonzo,” Sam said, amused by his anger on her behalf. “I appreciate the support, you guys. Let’s not allow it to be too much of a distraction. If you need me I’ll be on the radio or call my cell.”

She left them talking about the injustice of the IAB hearing. Their overwhelming support helped to boost her spirits. On the drive home, she listened to the voicemail from Nick and decided to stop at the store so she could surprise him with a home-cooked meal. After she stashed the makings for linguine and clam sauce in his refrigerator, she went over to check on her dad.