Marie Force - Fatal Identity

“I don’t want to punch out. I’m in it for better or worse at this point. I’ll do some digging and see if I can get anything useful from him.”

“I can’t protect you if this goes nuclear.”

“I don’t expect you to.”

“If you’re going to dig, dig carefully.”

“Don’t worry. I will. I’ll let you know if I get anything, and I’ll shoot you a text about where Josh is. Keep me posted about how Nick is doing?”

“Yeah, I will, and thanks.”

“No problem.”

Though he said it was no problem, this situation could turn into a huge problem for both of them unless they managed it carefully. But what was she supposed to do at this juncture? Go to her brass with the possibility that FBI Director Hamilton’s son could or could not be a child kidnapped from a family in Tennessee thirty years ago? She was already on thin ice with the department. If she opened that can of worms only to find out it wasn’t true, what then? And if Josh found out she’d taken his claims to the department, he’d bolt.

“What the hell is going on?” Angela asked when Sam had stashed the phone in her back pocket.

“A really weird new case.”

“I thought you were suspended.”

“Heard about that, huh?”

“Everyone knows. It was in the paper this morning.”

“Ugh, goddamned Darren.”

“It wasn’t just him. It was all over the place—in the papers, on TV, talk radio.”

“Great.” Her phone rang and she removed it from her pocket to check the caller ID. Her White House chief of staff, Lilia Van Nostrand’s name showed on the screen. Since Nick was still asleep, Sam took the call. “Hi, Lilia.”

“I just heard about the vice president. Is he all right? Are you?”

“He’s been felled by a nasty bout of the flu. I’m told he’s going to be fine. My nerves are shot, but otherwise, I’m okay.”

“Oh, thank goodness! I couldn’t believe what they were saying on the news about him being transported by ambulance to GW.”

“Jeez, nothing gets by the Washington press corps, huh?”

“No, and that’s the other reason for my call.”

“I heard my name is above the fold today.”

“It is, and I’m wondering how you wish to handle it.”

“Why do I have to handle it?”

“We’re getting slammed with requests for statements, as is the vice president’s office.”

“I spoke to Terry a few minutes ago, and he didn’t mention it.”

“Probably because he’s concerned for the vice president’s health at the moment, as am I. We wouldn’t want you to think our priorities lie anywhere other than with both of you.”

“I understand, and I appreciate the fact that you’re being slammed. You could say that the second lady has no comment on the suspension, which is an internal MPD matter.”

“How about the fact that U.S. Attorney Forrester is considering assault charges?”

“You can get a statement from him about that. If or when it happens, I’ll have no choice but to deal with it. Until that time, it’s speculation, and I don’t comment on speculation.”

“Can we say that in the statement?”

“Sure, knock yourselves out.”

“I’ll have Andrea put something together for you,” Lilia said of Sam’s communications director. “We’ll run it by you before we release it.”

“No need. I trust you guys to handle it.”

“We’ll take care of it, then. If you have a chance later, let me know how the vice president is doing—and how you’re doing.”

“I will. Thank you, Lilia.”

“Anytime.”

“I still can’t believe you have a chief of staff at the White House,” Angela said as Harry returned to the room to check on Nick.

“Can you imagine being her chief of staff?” Harry asked. “I need to meet this saint of a woman.”

“Bite me,” Sam said, though she was relieved he was making jokes. That must mean Nick’s situation wasn’t as dire as it had seemed for a while there.

“Who’s she biting now?” Nick muttered.

CHAPTER SEVEN

SAM HAD NEVER been so relieved to hear him speak. She sat on the edge of the bed and ran her hand over his face. “Only you, babe.”

“Better be only me.” His eyes opened slowly, and his brows knitted as he took in the room. “What the hell?”

She glanced at Harry before she filled Nick in on where he was and why. “You wouldn’t wake up. Scared the living hell out of me.”

“And me,” Harry said. “I was afraid she’d sue me for saying you’d be fine in a couple of days.”

“Andy has agreed to take my case pro bono,” Sam said, smiling at Nick.

“That traitor,” Harry said of his and Nick’s mutual friend.

“Scotty,” Nick said in a low rumble.

“Is home with Tracy and doing better than you are.”

“That’s a relief. When can I get out of here?”

“Probably tomorrow or the next day,” Harry said.

“Aw, come on,” Nick said, groaning. “I feel a lot better. Let me go home.”

“Dude, you were out cold an hour ago,” Harry said. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Sam pointed a thumb at Harry. “What he said.”

As if it was too much effort to keep them open, Nick closed his eyes. “Thought you guys were my friends.”

Sam leaned forward to kiss him. “We’re your best friends.”

“You might want to cut out the kissing unless you want what he’s got,” Harry said.

“Too late to worry about that.”

Nick’s arms came around her, keeping her right where she wanted to be—close to him.

“They’re hopeless,” Harry said to Angela.

“They certainly are. We’ll remind her of this when she’s barfing her guts out in a couple of days.”

“Worth it,” Sam said.

Nick tightened his hold on her and for the first time since he wouldn’t wake up earlier, she was able to take a deep breath. He was okay, and that was all that mattered.

* * *

HOURS LATER, NICK ordered Sam and Angela to go get something to eat. They’d talked to Scotty by FaceTime on Angela’s phone so he could see that Nick was doing better and they could see that he was fine. Tracy had gotten him to eat some of the soup Celia sent over, and he’d even asked for ice cream.

Nick, on the other hand, wasn’t interested in food of any kind yet. “You guys go grab something. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Are you sure?” Sam messed with his blankets until she was happy with the way they covered him. They’d fielded another call from his dad, as well as Graham and Laine O’Connor. Nick’s adopted parents were also concerned about him.

He put his hand over hers. “I’m sure.”

“Come on,” Angela said, tugging Sam’s arm. “I’m starving.”

She’d kept them entertained with the increasingly desperate texts she’d received from Spencer as the day progressed. The kids were making a man out of him, or so Angela said.

They went to the cafeteria where Sam forced herself to choke down a turkey club even though she didn’t really want it. Angela said she’d be no good to anyone if she didn’t take care of herself. In deference to the day from hell, Sam indulged in a rare diet cola. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Best thing I ever tasted,” she said of the icy-cold soda.

“So I was going to call you today about something else.”

“What’s up?”

Angela dipped a French fry into ketchup and popped it into her mouth. “Mom’s in town and she wants to see you.”

Sam shook her head from the word town on. “Not now.”

“I think you need to see her. She has some news you should hear from her.”

“What kind of news?”

Angela shook her head. “It’s not mine to tell.”

“Seriously?”