Erica Spindler - Cause for Alarm

"Cover up the true circumstances of the murder to save the wife, kids and country public humiliation."

"Exactly." Luke smiled. "I can tell you're a born writer." The detective beamed at him, and Luke leaned back in his chair. "You ever seen anything like that before, Detective?"

"Personally, no. But it could happen."

"What about Senator Jacobson's murder? Anything like what I described?"

The preppy detective's face fell. "Senator Jacobson?"

"The very one." Luke leaned forward. "I have reason to believe Jacobson was neither in a hotel room nor alone when he was killed. I need to corroborate."

"I didn't work that case."

"You could look up the report." Luke met the other man's gaze straight on. "It's important, Sims. I'd consider it a personal favor."

"This isn't for one of your novels, is it?"

"No, Sims, it's not. But it's life and death, I promise you that."

The young detective hesitated, then looked nervously over his shoulder. "You didn't hear this from me?"

"I didn't hear it at all."

He nodded, glanced around again, then murmured. "I don't have to look that one up, it's not every day a senator gets whacked. Something was definitely off about Jacobson's death. About the scene." The detective shifted in his seat, his chair creaked. "From the get-go it was hands off, feds only. They examined the scene, collected and processed the evidence. Some of the guys were really ticked off."

"Couldn't that have been because of who the victim was? Like you said, it's not every day a United States senator is murdered."

"Could be. But I doubt it." Sims leaned forward. "I heard some talk. Speculation that something different went down than what was officially reported. The scene didn't look right. Captain told us to put a lid on it."

"What happened then?"

"We did as ordered. Who has time to worry about yesterday's stiffs, no matter how important a person they were, we got today's, you know what I mean?"

Luke agreed that he did, indeed, know what he meant. "Sylvia Starr, ever heard that name?"

Sims thought a moment, then shook his head. "Who is she?"

"Murder victim. Could you look her up for me?"

"Sure. What do you need to know?"

"Date and time of death, circumstances. Whether she was found alone."

He swung toward his PC, typed in the appropriate combination of letters and numbers; a moment later the information came up. Sims scanned it. "Murdered on November 16, last year. Estimated time of death 3:00 a.m. Lover beside her, a John Doe. Gunshot to the head, close range. Blew her brains out. Unsolved."

"That's it?"

"That's it, though there should be more." He frowned, rereading the information on the screen. "I don't see anything about evidence collection, witness interviews, or a case pending. It must have fallen through the cracks. You want me to look her up in the hard file?"

"No, that's okay. Could you check one more thing for me?"

"Sure. Shoot."

"Jacobson, the date and time of his murder?"

Sims turned to his PC once more. A minute later he frowned. "November 16, last year. Estimated time of death 3:00 a.m. Think there's a connection here?"

"Maybe."

"The mistress, right?"

"Yeah." Luke smiled grimly and stood, thinking ahead to the conversation he would have with Morris. "You got a card, Sims?"

The detective handed him one, and Luke turned it over and jotted down his agent's name, address and telephone number. "Send him your manuscript, tell him I said he should read it. When I get home, I'll call him, put in a good word for you."

The man flushed with pleasure. "Thanks, Mr. Dallas." He held out a hand. "Thanks a lot."

"Thank you." Luke shook his hand. "I appreciate your help."

He started to walk away, stopping and turning back after a few steps. "Sims?" The detective looked up. "A moment ago you said the scene was feds only. Happen to know which Agency that was?"

The younger man thought a moment, then shook his head. "Can't recall. You want me to find out? It'll take a few minutes."

"Yeah, I would," Luke said, turning back toward the desk. "I'll wait."

Kate sat beside Emma's crib and watched her sleep. Exhaustion and guilt pulled at her. How could she not have acted on the change in her daughter's behavior sooner? All the signs of illness had been there, crankiness, loss of appetite, sleeplessness. Instead, it had taken a 102.5 degree temperature to galvanize her into action. What kind of mother was she?

Kate passed a hand wearily across her forehead. The doctor had called ear infections a common childhood malady. If treated properly and promptly they posed no long-term health threat, if not, the child's hearing could be affected. He'd also tried to assure Kate that nothing she had or hadn't done had caused it.

As much as she wanted to, Kate didn't buy that. Emma had gone six months without so much as a sniffle; now, her life and routine in chaos, she had a raging infection in both ears and a temperature.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Please find what we need, Luke. Please.

The phone jangled and Emma stirred and moaned, her face puckering up in reaction to the sudden, shrill sound. Kate dove for the offending instrument, catching it a moment before it rang again.

"Hello?" she said softly, her gaze on Emma.

"Kate, it's Luke."

"Luke?" She pressed the receiver tighter to her ear, straining to hear above the din on the line. "I can hardly hear you."

"I've run into a little trouble down here."

"Trouble? What-" The line crackled, then faded. He was saying something, but she couldn't quite make it out. "Luke, speak up. I can't understand what you're saying."

Julianna came to the door between their rooms. Kate glanced at her, and she mouthed, "What's wrong?"

Kate lifted her shoulders to indicate she didn't know, then turned her attention back to Luke.

"I think we've got him, Kate," he was saying, his voice fading in and out. "But we need to act quickly. How fast can you get down here?"

"Down there?" she repeated, her heart beginning to pound. "I don't understand-"

"Kate, I can hardly hear you now." The line crackled again. "-need you down here. Three hundred Indiana Avenue, N.W. The Henry J. Daly Municipal Center. Third floor. Quickly. Got that, Kate?"

"Got it. But, Luke, what-"

"You'll understand everything when you get here. Hurry," he said, "we don't have a minute to waste."

The line went dead.

Julianna came into the room, eyes wide, the expression in them worried. "What's going on?"

"I don't know." Kate stared at the receiver a moment, then returned it to its cradle. "Luke says he got what we needed, but there's some sort of trouble and we have to act quickly."

"He got the proof?"

"That's what he said. He asked me to come right down."

"But why?"

"I don't know." Kate snatched up the diaper bag and carried it to the crib. "It was an awful connection, I could hardly hear."

Kate gazed down at her sleeping daughter, doubt plucking at her. The Tylenol had brought down her fever and relieved her pain, making it possible for her to finally rest. "I hate to wake her up," she murmured. "Poor thing just got to sleep."

"Don't." Julianna came to stand beside her. "You go, I'll stay with her. It'll be much quicker, and she can get some rest."

Kate hesitated. Julianna was right. It would be quicker without Emma. She would have to change Emma's diaper, make sure the diaper bag had plenty of spares and make a bottle. Plus the doctor had prescribed rest.

"She'll be fine. I bet she won't even wake up."

Kate caught her bottom lip between her teeth. She hated this. It felt wrong. But Luke had sounded almost desperate, and Kate knew her daughter-Emma did not like her sleep disturbed. If awakened now she would doubtless scream for the next thirty minutes. Kate didn't suppose that was what the doctor had meant by her getting plenty of rest and quiet.