Fatal Consequences (29 page)

Sam nodded to her partner.

Freddie approached the other man and recited the Miranda warning.

“This is an outrage!” Bartholomew said as he resisted Freddie’s attempts to cuff him.

“What’s going on in here?” another voice asked from the doorway.

Sam turned to find the vice president himself watching the proceedings.

“Mr. Bartholomew is a person of interest in an aggravated sexual assault case,” Sam said.

Gooding’s mouth fell open for a second before he quickly recovered his composure.

“Mr. Vice President,” Bartholomew said. “You have to believe me. I swear to God. I didn’t do this.”

“You shouldn’t swear to God,” Freddie said. “You’ll go to hell.”

Gooding studied his aide, but his expression remained unreadable. Handsome with snow-white hair and piercing blue eyes, Gooding was taller than he appeared on TV.

“Bill,” Bartholomew said, pleading as Freddie directed him to the door. “Help me. Please.”

As Freddie took Bartholomew out, Sam hung back. “If I may say so, sir, you don’t seem as shocked as I’d expect you to be after seeing your top aide arrested for aggravated sexual assault.”

Gooding finally blinked. “Of course I’m shocked. I’ve known Jack Bartholomew for twenty-five years.”

“And never had any reason to believe he was capable of attacking women?”

“Absolutely not,” he said, but Sam noted that his words lacked the conviction she’d expect from someone who’d just watched a close colleague be arrested. “Is this going to be on the news?”

“That the vice president’s chief of staff is a person of interest in a rape? That he and other high-level government officials ran and patronized a call girl ring that was Washington’s best-kept secret? I’d guess it’ll probably make the news.”

At that, Gooding finally looked a bit concerned. “I have things…I need to do.”

Sam gestured for him to go on ahead. The moment she was alone, she grasped the back of a chair and held on through another sharp pain. As soon as she was able to she left Bartholomew’s office and ducked into the first ladies’ room she found in the vast office building.

Inside the stall, her hands shook as she unzipped her jeans. “Oh my God,” she whispered at the sight of blood—a lot of blood. “No, no,
no
…” She pulled herself together enough to purchase a couple of pads from the vending machine on the wall. Her hands shook as she tried to clean herself up and deal with the pads.

Sweating and nauseous, she closed her eyes and gave herself a moment—just one moment to absorb the shock and pain. Her ringing phone ended the moment. Fumbling with the phone, she flipped it open and then dropped it on the floor. It skidded out of her reach. She managed to button her jeans and leave the stall to retrieve her phone.

“Yeah?” she said, breathing through the cramps.

“Sam?” Freddie said. “I’ve been waiting down here for twenty minutes. What the hell is taking so long?”

Twenty minutes?
“Sorry.”

“Did Gooding hassle you?”

“What? No.”

“Then what’s taking so long?”

“Nothing. I’m coming.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Sam ended the call and scrolled through her contacts, looking for the number Harry had programmed into her phone. She wanted to call Nick. She
needed
to call Nick. But she had to close the case before she could allow herself to fall apart. If she heard his voice, she’d fall apart.

“This is Sam Holland,” she said when Harry answered.

“Hey, Sam. What’s up?”

“I’m sorry to bother you on your day off, but I, um…I think I might be miscarrying.”

“Oh, no. What’s going on?”

“I took a hard hit to the belly, and the cramps started almost right away. Now I’m bleeding too.”

“Is it more than a regular period?”

Swallowing the hard lump of emotion that had formed in her throat, she said, “Yeah.”

“Can you get yourself to an E.R.? I could meet you.”

“I’m about two hours from closing a big case. I’m just wondering…” Her eyes burned with tears. “If I went to the E.R. right now, they wouldn’t be able to stop it or anything, would they?”

“How far apart are the cramps?”

“Every minute or so.”

Harry sighed. “That coupled with the bleeding…I doubt it could be stopped. I’m sorry, Sam.”

“S’okay. Not like I haven’t been down this road before.”

“I know you might not be able to see it as such right now, but this is actually very good news.”

“How in the hell is this good news?”

“It proves you
can
get pregnant.”

“That’s not good news if it’s going to end like this every time.”

“It may not. You took a hard hit. The follicle was probably not fully attached to the uterine wall yet, so it didn’t take much to dislodge it.”

“This is the shit that happens in my job. I take hard hits. You can’t exactly wrap me in foam for nine months and expect me to do my job.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Listen—”

“Call me when you get home, and I’ll bring Maggie over to take a look at you.”

“Is she the girlfriend?”

“Yep. She’s slipping me a note right now that says until she can see you, if you feel faint or nauseous, the pain becomes sharp and/or constant, or the bleeding becomes profuse get to an E.R. right away. Otherwise, it should be like a bad period with cramps and bleeding. Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry this is happening to you again.”

“So am I. Thanks for the help.”

“Anytime.”

She closed the phone and put it in her coat pocket, determined to close this case before she had her fourth miscarriage.

Sam turned the keys over to Freddie.

“You’re sure you’re okay, boss?”

“Just drive.”

“I sent Bartholomew with patrol. He’ll be waiting for us in interrogation. I also called Faith Miller and asked her to meet us there.”

“Good. Thanks.”

“What did the vice president say?”

Sam put her head back against the seat and fought off the array of emotions storming around inside of her. So much to absorb and no time to do it. “He was concerned about the media catching wind of his chief of staff’s arrest.”

“Always a politician.” Freddie navigated the car through rush hour traffic. “So what’s the plan for when we go at them?”

“We’ll let them stew for a bit and then tell each one that the others rolled on him.”

Freddie nodded. “I like it. None of them will want to go down alone.”

“That’s the idea.”

After a long moment of silence, he took his eyes off the road to look over at her. “I get that you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong, but I can see you’re upset. You have to be thinking about Peter…”

“Yeah.” Sam watched the blur of lights and buildings. When tears threatened, she quickly closed her eyes and fought them off. Once she started, she might never stop. “Hard to believe he’s out there somewhere.”

“He won’t be for long.”

“I hope you’re right.” When they arrived at HQ, she went straight to her office where she downed three of the pain pills she kept in her top drawer for emergencies. This certainly counted. “Let’s get this sewed up,” she said when she rejoined Freddie in the pit. “You’ve got somewhere to be.”

“I’m here ‘til we’re done. My plans will keep.”

Captain Malone and Chief Farnsworth joined them.

“Lieutenant,” the chief said. “You’ve got some high-profile guests taking up space in my interrogation rooms.”

“Yes, sir.”

Farnsworth tipped his head as he studied her. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” To Malone she said, “Did you get DNA samples?”

“On their way to the lab as we speak.”

“Good.”

Assistant U.S. Attorney Faith Miller entered the pit. “What’ve you got?” she asked Sam. The Miller triplets were three of the most stunning women Sam had ever met. They had soft brown hair that each sister wore in a different style, green eyes and figures more often seen on supermodels than lawyers.

“Sanborn is the kingpin,” Sam said. “McBride identified him as her attacker. I believe the DNA will also show him to be responsible for the murders of Regina Argueta de Castro and Maria Espanosa. I want to use Daniels and Bartholomew to set up Sanborn. Immunity for both of them on the call girl ring, but if the DNA on Selina Rameriz’s clothes matches Bartholomew’s, I’ll charge him with aggravated sexual assault. Selina worked with Jackson on a composite sketch that’s a perfect match for Bartholomew. I can also get her employer to testify that she was out of work for several days after the attack and that she’d never missed a day of work before then. I can get her coworkers to testify to the bruises on her face and arms.”

“We’ve also got several people who attended the gala at the Reagan Building who will testify that they saw Bartholomew with Selina that night,” Freddie said. “And we’ve got videotape showing them there together.”

Faith nodded. “With the DNA, that’s enough to charge him.”

“The lab is rushing the results through,” Farnsworth said.

“Glad something can get them to rush,” Sam muttered.

“What’ve you got on Daniels?” Faith asked.

“Involvement in the call girl ring as well as solicitation and prostitution. If I can offer him immunity, I might be able to get him to tell me what he knows. From what I know about him, losing his political career will be significant punishment.”

Faith nodded in agreement. “Do it.” She zeroed in on Sam. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Cramps,” Sam whispered so the men wouldn’t hear.

“Ouch.”

Gesturing to Freddie, Sam headed toward the interrogation rooms. “Let’s talk to Daniels first.” On the way, she stopped to remove several photos from her murder board.

When they entered the room, the speaker of the House of Representatives leaped to his feet. “I don’t know why I’m here. What did I do?”

“Mr. Speaker, I need to remind you that you have the right to remain silent.” Sam reviewed the Miranda warning and received his permission to record the interview. Freddie remained by the door. “Do you understand your rights in this matter?”

“I haven’t done anything! I don’t know what ‘matter’ you’re referring to!”

“If you didn’t do anything, why’d you bolt when you saw us coming earlier?” Sam asked.

“Because Sanborn did. I didn’t know what was going on.”

“Pardon me if I find that hard to believe.” Sam put Selina Rameriz’s photo down on the table.

Daniels, who was short and stocky with dark hair and the starting of jowls, went perfectly still as he stared at the picture.

“Know her, Mr. Speaker?”

“I’ve never seen her before in my life.”

“Would you be willing to take a polygraph to confirm that?”

Daniels tore his eyes off the photo and began to pace. “You don’t understand…”

Sam pulled a chair out from the table and lowered herself gingerly. “What don’t I understand?”

“It was one time.”

Sam laughed. “Sure it was. If I ask Ms. Rameriz, will she corroborate your story?

“Maybe it was twice, but the point is, it wasn’t any big deal.”

“It’s against the law,” Sam reminded him. “Especially when you start killing the women to keep them quiet.”

Daniels stopped pacing and turned to her. “
Killing?
I’ve never killed anyone! Give me a polygraph on that.”

Sam shrugged. “Funny, that’s not what Sanborn said. He claims the whole thing was your idea.”

Daniel’s complexion got very red. “That son of a bitch. He’s lying! If anyone was pulling the strings, it was him!”

Sam leaned forward, elbows on the table. “I want to know what you know about the call girl ring, and I want it now. If the information you give me is credible, I may speak to the AUSA about immunity for you.”

“I’d have to testify against the others?”

“Yes.” Sam watched him absorb the fact that his political career was probably over.

His face twisted into an ugly snarl. “How can you do this to people in your future husband’s own party?”

Sam laughed. “You think I care about that? You think
he
cares about that? We both want justice for the two women who were murdered by one of you.
That’s
what we care about.”

“He won’t have much of a career if he doesn’t learn how to manage his woman,” Daniels said.

Sam treated him to her most intimidating cop stare. “Keep up that crap and the deal’s off the table.” She glanced at her watch. “You’ve got one minute. Do we have a deal?”

“I want to talk to my lawyer.”

Ignoring the cramps seizing her midsection, Sam stood. “Then no deal. I need the information, and I need it now. Your choice.”

As he stood with his hands on his hips pondering his limited options, Sam watched the starch go out of his spine. “It was all Sanborn’s idea.”

“What was?”

“A service…For us, by us. Our jobs are stressful, and we needed a way to let off steam and relax. We figured if we had control then we could determine who was allowed to patronize it and keep it secret. We could choose the women…”

“Immigrants who wouldn’t recognize most of you.”

Daniels sighed and dropped into a chair. “Yes.”

“How long has the organization been in business?”

“Twelve years.”

Sam couldn’t believe they’d never caught wind of it in all that time. “So why did Regina and Maria have to die?”

“I honestly don’t know. I had nothing to do with that. I swear to God.”

“But you know who did.”

“I have my suspicions.”

“Is that what you were arguing with Sanborn about?”

“I wanted him to tell me what he knew about it and why there were cops sniffing around the Hill. I also wanted to know what he knew about the police officer who was kidnapped.”

“What did he say?”

“He told me it was none of my business and that I needed to keep my mouth shut and stay out of it.”

“How did it work? The service?”

“We hired a woman. She works out of her home and manages the administrative aspects.”

“Who else besides yourself and Sanborn are behind the organization?”

“Bartholomew and Cook.” Sam couldn’t wait to arrest that bastard Cook. “We wouldn’t even be here right now if Cook hadn’t gotten greedy and pushed us to open the service up to anyone who called. We told him it was a mistake. The more people who knew…”

“What’s Gooding’s involvement?” she asked, referring to the vice president.

“Nothing that I know of, but he and Bartholomew are tight. I wouldn’t be surprised if he knows the ring exists, but I don’t think he’s ever been a patron.”

“You don’t know for sure.”

“No. The only person who knows all the who, what, when, where and how is the woman who runs the organization.”

Sam pushed a pad and pen across the table. “Her name and address.”

“She’s an innocent party—a wife and mother just trying to make a living.”

“Running a call girl ring for pampered politicians? Hardly innocent.”

Daniels put down the pen. “Tell me you’ll protect her, or I’m not giving you her name.”

“Give me her name or our deal is off.”

“I gave you what you asked for!”

“I told you the deal was only good if you were entirely forthcoming.”

Daniels glared at her.

Sam glared back.

He grabbed the pen and wrote the name and address and shoved the pad back at her.

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” Sam eased herself up. “Sit tight. I’ll be back.”

“When? I need to get out of here before my wife hears about this.”

“It’s probably safe to assume she already knows,” Sam said.

Moaning, he dropped his head to folded arms.

Malone was waiting for her and Freddie outside the interrogation room.

“Anything from the lab yet?” Sam asked.

He shook his head. “They said it would be tomorrow at the earliest.

“Goddamn it.”

“Lieutenant,” Freddie said, frowning at her language.

“It occurred to me that your suspects don’t know how long it takes to get DNA results,” Malone said. He handed her two sheets of official-looking paper.

Sam studied them and smirked. “Traffic tribunal, huh?”

“Put them in this.” He produced a manila folder. “That makes it
very
official. They know it’s their DNA, so why wait for the lab to confirm it when they can do it for us?”

“I like the way you think, Captain.”

“I still have a few working brain cells after riding the desk all these years.”

“This is just what I needed to nail those bastards.”

“What’s the plan?”

“Bartholomew first and then Sanborn. Depending on how it goes with Bartholomew, I might need you to have someone bring Selina over here for a lineup of fat, balding middle-aged guys. Her ID will put a bow on top of the aggravated sexual assault charge. Can you set that up if I can’t get him to roll?”

“Absolutely. Let’s wrap this up, people.”

If only she didn’t feel so shitty, Sam would be salivating in anticipation of toppling two powerful scumbags from their lofty pedestals.

“You sure you’re all right, Holland?” Malone asked.

“Girl trouble,” she said, knowing he’d drop it once he heard that.

He cleared his throat. “Um, very well then. Carry on.”

“I understand you’ve been running a call girl ring in Washington for twelve years,” Sam said without preamble. She’d witnessed Freddie reading Bartholomew his rights earlier, so she didn’t repeat the Miranda warning.

Bartholomew attempted to surge to his feet, but with his girth, the surge was more like a lumber. “Who the hell told you that?”

“Doesn’t matter. Is it true?”

“It most certainly is not. I had nothing to do with any call girls. I work for the vice president of the United States. Why would I jeopardize my position, my career, my
reputation
to dally with call girls?”

“That’s a very good question. Isn’t it, Detective Cruz?”

“Indeed,” Freddie said. “Personally, I think it’s all about money—and the sex, of course.”

“I’ve never had sex with a call girl,” Bartholomew huffed. “I don’t need to pay for it.”

Sam took a long measuring look at the unattractive man. “If you say so.” She produced the folder she’d kept behind her back. “You’re sure you’ve never met Selina Rameriz?”

He eyed the folder warily. “Positive.”

“Then how do you explain the fact that you were seen with her at a gala on January 18 at the Ronald Reagan Building?” She turned to Freddie. “Detective Cruz, do you have several witnesses prepared to testify that Mr. Bartholomew accompanied Ms. Rameriz to the gala?”

“I do,” Freddie said. “We’ve also obtained the security videotape from the Reagan Building where you’re seen with her at the event.”

Sam directed her gaze from Freddie back to Bartholomew. “Still certain you’ve never met her?”

“So I hired her to go to a party with me. That doesn’t make me a rapist.”

Sam withdrew one of the traffic tribunal forms. “No, but your semen on her clothes sure does.”

Watching his face drain of color was among one of the more satisfying moments in Sam’s career.

“That can’t be right,” he stammered.

“The beautiful thing about DNA is that, unlike people, it never lies.”

His round face was suddenly shiny with sweat. “Okay so maybe I had sex with her. That also doesn’t make me a rapist.”

“Detective Cruz, when we talked to Ms. Rameriz, did she leave you with the impression that the sex she’d had with Mr. Bartholomew was in any way consensual?”

“No, ma’am.”

“And is the owner of the Capitol Cleaning Services company willing to testify that the only time Ms. Rameriz has ever missed work in more than two years was on the nineteenth, twentieth and twenty-first of January?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And will Ms. Rameriz’s coworkers testify that when she returned to work on the twenty-second, her face and arms were still bruised from what was obviously a vicious assault?”