Marie Force - Fatal Chaos

“I’ll do my best, Lieutenant.”

She fell asleep with her arms wrapped around him and a big smile on her face.

CHAPTER SEVEN

SAM WOKE TO the phone ringing shortly before her alarm would’ve woken her. “Mmm, Holland.” She tried to shake off the cobwebs. Her body would’ve liked five more hours of sleep, but the vacation was over, and it was back to reality.

“Are you awake, Lieutenant?” Malone asked in a booming voice that told her he’d already had several cups of coffee.

Sam hated morning people. “I am now.”

“We had another shooting overnight. I wanted to give you the details before your shift.”

That news had her wide-awake. Nick slept right next to her, on his back, arm thrown over his head. She tore her gaze off his gorgeous face, got out of bed, put on a robe and took the phone across the hall to her closet, closing the door so she could focus on what the captain was telling her without disturbing Nick.

“This one was in Woodley Park.”

Sam gasped at the mention of Freddie and Elin’s neighborhood.

“Twenty-six-year-old Caroline Brinkley was picked off on Woodley Road Northwest at about three-thirty this morning.”

“Any witnesses?”

“None. She was alone, and no one else was on the street at that time.”

“Where was she coming from? Do we know?”

“Detective Cruz is at the scene trying to find out more.”

“I’ll meet him there.”

“And then come back here. We’ve got to get our heads around this before the shooter has a chance to strike again. The press is clamoring for information.”

“I can only imagine. I’ll see you soon.” Sam took a fast shower and got dressed in shorts and a lightweight top, preparing for another long, hot day pounding the pavement. She put her hair up in a messy bun and slathered on sunscreen.

Fifteen minutes after she ended the call with Malone, she had kissed her sleeping husband, retrieved her weapon and cuffs from the bedside drawer and was on her way downstairs. She was surprised to find their assistant, Shelby, in the kitchen with her newborn son, Noah, attached to her in some sort of elaborate harness thingie. She’d rescinded her earlier resignation and returned like nothing had ever happened, which had been a relief to Sam and Nick.

As always, the sight of a baby did funny things to Sam’s insides, and reminded her that she needed to procure a pregnancy test without alerting the world to her suspicions. Difficult task, that.

“What’re you guys doing here?” Sam asked Shelby while taking a second to play with the baby’s foot. He had a light dusting of blond hair and pudgy cheeks. “You’re supposed to be on leave.”

“We were awake and feeling kinda cooped up, so we decided to come see what’s going on over here. You’re up early.”

“I’m going to work.”

“I heard about the shootings and wondered if they’d called you back.”

“Yep, I went back yesterday.”

“It’s so awful that someone is driving around shooting at innocent people. I hope you catch them before anyone else is hurt or killed.”

Sam grabbed a banana from a bowl on the counter. Even during her maternity leave, Shelby made sure their weekly grocery delivery arrived on schedule. “That’s the plan.” After a pause, she said, “So, um, I need a favor, and I don’t want you to say a single word other than ‘okay’ if you’re able to help me, because I can’t talk about it. If I talk about it, I’ll lose my shit, and I can’t lose my shit right now. You know?”

“Umm, I think so,” Shelby said hesitantly. Who could blame her for being hesitant after that lead-in?

“I need a pregnancy test. You got an old one lying around anywhere?”

Shelby’s lips parted and her eyes grew wide, but she didn’t say anything other than, “I have at least ten of them at home. I’ll put a couple in the cabinet under your bathroom sink today. Would that work?”

Sam nodded. “Thank you.”

“Sam—”

“Please, Shelby. I can’t.”

Shelby nodded as she blinked rapidly, probably trying not to cry. Ever since she’d gotten pregnant, she cried over everything, even dog food commercials, according to her fiancé, FBI Special Agent in Charge Avery Hill. “I understand.”

Sam knew she did and appreciated it. “I gotta go.” She kissed baby Noah’s cheek and squeezed Shelby’s arm. “You guys have a good day.”

“You too. Good luck with the case.”

“Thanks. We’re going to need it.”

On her way out, Sam nodded to Melinda, the agent she called Secret Service Barbie.

“Good morning, Mrs. Cappuano.”

“Good morning.” Sam brushed by her and down the ramp, eager to get to the scene and help Freddie. She felt a tiny bit guilty for being less than friendly to the agent who was only doing her job. Something about her bugged Sam. Probably the fact that such a stunningly gorgeous woman was paid to watch her smoking hot husband. “You’re an idiot,” she muttered to herself as she got in the car and headed for the checkpoint.

The agents waved her through, and she directed the car toward Woodley Park, giving thanks to whoever invented Labor Day and gave the federal workforce the day off. Traffic was all but nonexistent as she drove and brooded over why she couldn’t stand Melinda. That was better than brooding over the remote possibility that she could be pregnant. Again.

If it were true, this would be the sixth time. Five miscarriages later, she’d learned to manage her expectations. The last one, which had been Nick’s baby, had been the worst of all. She wanted nothing more than to give him the family he’d never had. He said that she and Scotty were all the family he needed, but she still held out hope that maybe, just maybe, they might get lucky one more time.

She breathed her way through the emotions this topic always roused in her—sadness, disappointment, despair and inadequacy. That last one particularly rankled, as she was known for being more than adequate at her job yet was unable to carry a baby to term. The thing that came so naturally to women all over the world was seemingly impossible for her.

“You can’t spend the whole day obsessing about this.” Sometimes saying it out loud made it easier to take her own advice. “You’ve got too much to do and a city on edge with someone shooting at innocent people. If you spend all day obsessing about this, you won’t get anything done. That’s not an option today.”

By the time she arrived on Woodley Road Northwest, she had her emotions more or less under control and her focus on the task at hand. There’d be time later to fall apart over the other thing, which probably wasn’t even a thing anyway.

She parked on the pretty, leafy street lined with restaurants and walked the short distance to where Freddie and Gonzo were conferring on the sidewalk next to a bloodstain that had been taped off. Lindsey’s team had already removed the body.

Outside the tapeline, the large group of curious bystanders watching the proceedings began to buzz when they saw Sam approach. People were always so curious about other people’s misfortune. It made her sick.

She ducked under the tapeline. “Morning,” she said to Freddie and Gonzo.

“Morning, LT,” Gonzo said. He looked tired and stressed.

“Did you guys get any sleep?”

“Couple hours,” Freddie said. “They called me on this because I was closest.”

“What do we know about the vic?” Sam asked, her gaze shifting to the bloodstain that told part of the story.

Freddie consulted his notes. “Caroline Brinkley, age twenty-six, a waitress at a K Street lounge, was on her way home from work when she was shot in the back.”

“Where’s home?” Sam asked.