Fatal Justice (9 page)

Rattled by the odd conversation with Nick, Sam did her best to put on her party face as they greeted the O’Connors and Julian Sinclair, who arrived at the same time. She was still getting used to the warmth the O’Connors directed her way simply because she was with Nick.

He slipped a possessive arm around her and introduced her to Julian, who held her hand between both of his. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Sam. I’ve read all about you in the paper.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh joy.”

“What did today’s article say? ‘Not since Jack and Jackie has Washington been so riveted by a political couple’?”

“Thanks, Julian.” Nick shook hands with him. “She really needed to hear that again.”

Julian laughed. “You’re looking good, Senator. Power becomes you.”

Sam was amused by Nick’s befuddled reaction to the compliment. Julian was shorter than he appeared on television, his forehead barely reaching Nick’s shoulder. He had smooth skin, silver hair and a warm smile. Erudite was the word that came to mind as she watched him interact with the others. Classy, elegant and right at home with Nick and the O’Connors—so at home, in fact, that Sam felt like an outsider looking in at a family reunion.

In the kitchen, Graham opened a bottle of merlot. “It’s so great to have you in town for a while, Julian.”

“I was so sorry I couldn’t be here for John’s service,” Julian said. “I was in Sacramento for a wedding the day before the funeral. If I hadn’t been the best man, I’d have been on the first plane.”

“We got your lovely note.” Laine patted his arm. “And the flowers, too. You were there in spirit.”

“What’s the latest with Thomas’s case?” Julian asked as he accepted a glass of wine from Graham and followed the others into the living room.

Sam opened a bottle of pinot grigio and poured herself a glass before she joined them.

“They’re exploring an insanity plea,” Graham said.

“Not a bad idea,” Julian said.

Graham’s face tightened with grief. “It was my fault for keeping Patricia and Thomas hidden away for all those years. I forced John to live a double life and to lie to them. When Thomas found out there’d been other women in his father’s life, he just snapped.”

“You did what you thought was right, Graham,” Julian said. “Those were different times. You would’ve taken a hard political hit if people found out that your teenaged son had fathered a child—not to mention what it would’ve done to John’s future.”

“Did you know?” Nick asked Julian. “About Thomas?”

Julian glanced at Graham. “I did.”

Expelling a long deep breath, Nick sat back against the sofa.

Sam knew Nick was still dealing with leftover shock and disbelief that John had kept his son hidden from even his closest friend and most trusted aide.

“He was one of the few,” Graham said quickly, tuning into Nick’s dismay. “I didn’t know what to do, so I asked a couple of close friends for their advice.”

“I agreed with what you did, so that makes me partly culpable, I suppose,” Julian said, swirling the wine around in his glass, a rueful expression on his face.

“There’s no point in second guessing,” Laine said, sending the message to the others that she had heard enough about the circumstances of her youngest child’s death.

“You’re absolutely right, Laine,” Julian said, turning his attention to Sam. “So you’re a detective.”

“And a recently promoted lieutenant,” Nick added with a proud smile.

“Congratulations,” Julian said. “A wonderful accomplishment.”

“Thank you.”

“How’s the new job, Sam?” Laine asked with what appeared to be genuine interest.

“Chaotic.”

“She did a first-class job on John’s case,” Graham said. “First class.”

With a small smile to acknowledge the compliment, she said, “Thanks.”

“So your sister-in-law is getting as many headlines as you are lately,” Laine said to Julian.

“Indeed,” Julian replied with a chagrinned expression. “She does have her opinions.”

“I never knew she was so hateful,” Graham said. “To say what she does about homosexuals, Jews and African Americans, and on television, no less. I heard they’re giving her a prime-time show. A whole hour of hate and venom.”

“It’s shameful,” Julian said. “I never have understood what my brother sees in her. From the day he met her, he’s been completely besotted. Did you hear the latest?”

“About her book?” Graham asked.

Julian nodded. “It’ll be out in two weeks. An update on a book her minister father did years ago on how homosexuals will be the downfall of the republic.”

Nick released a low whistle. “Wow.”

“She’s on a roll, lately,” Julian said.

“Do you ever hear from them?” Laine asked.

Julian shook his head. “I haven’t spoken to either of them in years.”

“Were you surprised to be nominated to the Court?” Sam asked, sensing they were all anxious to change the subject.

“Well, since David warned me I’d be at the top of his list the first chance he got, I can’t say I was all that surprised to get the call.”

“David did, did he?” Sam wasn’t sure where this edge to her voice was coming from. She chalked it up to the mood Nick had put her in with his odd behavior earlier.

Nick directed a raised eyebrow her way.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a more conciliatory tone. “I’m still getting used to being around people who call the president of the United States by his first name.”

“I call him Mr. President when I’m with him,” Julian clarified.

“I’ve seen your face on the front page as much as I’ve seen my own lately,” Sam said.

“We knew the nomination would generate some controversy,” Julian acknowledged.

“Protestors will be descending on this town in the next few days,” Graham added.

“We had a meeting yesterday about crowd control,” Sam said. “They’re expecting up to a million people.”

“That many?” Julian said, seeming taken aback.

“You’re surprised?” Sam asked.

Nick’s face was set in a stony, unreadable expression Sam hadn’t seen before.

“I knew there’d be some protests,” Julian said quietly. “But a million. Wow.”

“People feel very strongly about this,” Sam said. “After all, your confirmation would tip the court firmly to the left.”

“Are you opposed to that, Sam?” Laine asked. Her question seemed to contain only interest and not judgment.

“I’m a cop.”

“With no beliefs?” Graham asked, arching a white eyebrow with what might have been delight at her sauciness.

A quick glance at Nick told her he was anything but delighted.

“I have a few. Usually, I keep them to myself.”

“Please,” Nick said. “Enlighten us.”

Something in his tightly spoken words sent a trickle of discomfort through her. “I’m sure you all have other things you’d rather talk about.”

“Actually, you’ve got us riveted,” Nick replied, his eyes boring a hole in her.

Her stomach churned with anxiety. “I’d like to see the abortion issue resolved definitively,” she ventured.

“And you don’t think it was with Roe v. Wade?” Julian asked.

“If it had been, we wouldn’t still be talking about it more than thirty years later.”

“That’s a good point,” Laine said.

“So if you were Julian,” Nick said, “and a case came before the court that would overturn Roe, how would you vote?”

Sam squirmed under the heat of his gaze. “I don’t know. Don’t ask me that.”

Clearly flabbergasted, Nick stared at her. “You don’t believe in a woman’s right to choose?”

“I never said that.”

“You don’t know if you’d vote to overturn Roe? That doesn’t make you much of a supporter of women’s rights.”

“No,” Sam shot back, “it makes me a supporter of those who can’t speak for themselves.”

“I never would’ve guessed,” Nick said, incredulous.

After a long period of uncomfortable silence during which Nick stared at her, Sam cleared her throat. “I think I smell something burning. I’ll go check.” Getting up quickly, she went into the kitchen and leaned against the counter, trying to stop the pounding in her chest. How had she let the conversation get so heated and out of control?

“What the hell was that?” Nick fumed as he followed her into the kitchen.

“What?” Sam asked, opening the oven and peering inside—more for something to do than anything.

“Were you baiting him?” he asked in an exaggerated whisper.

“
You
were baiting
me!
”

Ignoring that, he said, “Have you forgotten he’s our guest?”

“
Your
guest.”

“Right.” He stormed around the kitchen, adding dressing to a tossed salad and retrieving dishes warming in the oven. “It’s not like we’re a couple who’d do something so
committed
as entertain together or anything.”

Sam folded her arms, her back rigid with tension. “Maybe I should just go.”

“Fine. Run away. That’s what you do, isn’t it?”

“No,” she said softly, “usually I stay, which is how I ended up unhappily married for four long years to a man who tried to control my every thought and action.”

Nick’s expression shifted from anger to regret.

The anger, she decided, was easier to handle.

“Sam—”

She held up a hand to stop him from approaching her. “I’m going to go so you can visit with your friends in peace. I don’t belong here.”

“That’s not true. You know it isn’t.”

“Tell them I got called into work,” she said, desperate to get out of there before she embarrassed herself by getting emotional. “I’m sorry.” With a last glance at his unreadable face, she darted from the kitchen, grabbed her coat and headed out the door while contending with a huge knot in her throat.

The lobster had been flown in from Maine, but to Nick, it might as well have been cardboard. The meal he had planned down to the garnish received rave reviews from his guests. He couldn’t have cared less. Oblivious to his dismay, the other three laughed and talked and told old stories. Even though he participated in the conversation, Nick wished they would leave so he could go after Sam and nip this thing growing between them before it couldn’t be fixed.

They lingered over dessert and coffee and then asked to see the rest of the house.

He took them through the three floors, answered their questions about his plans for the place, and withstood their good-natured ribbing about his oh-so-public romance with the pretty lieutenant.

By the time they finally left at eleven, Nick was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He grabbed his coat, rushed down the street and up the ramp to Skip’s house. After a month of being in and out of there, it didn’t occur to him to knock. Bursting into the darkened living room, he found Skip and Celia on the sofa locked in a passionate embrace.

“Oh shit,” Nick muttered through his mortification. “Sorry.”

Like a teenager who’d just been caught in a clutch with her boyfriend, Celia scrambled off Skip’s lap and pressed her hand to her swollen lips. Skip’s empty wheelchair sat next to the sofa where he was propped into the corner with pillows under his arms. Clearly, they had given this arrangement some serious thought, and Nick was horrified to have interrupted them.

“I’ll, ah, just go up to see Sam.”

“She’s not here,” Celia said. “We thought she was with you. At your dinner party for the justice.”

“She was. Earlier. But we had an, um, a thing.”

“A fight,” Skip said, his sharp eyes trained on Nick.

“Sort of.” Nick pushed a frustrated hand through his hair. “Where do you think she’d be?”

“How upset was she?” Skip asked.

“Pretty upset.”

“Lincoln.”

“Excuse me?”

“She goes to see Lincoln when she’s upset or needs to think.”

“As in the
monument?
”

“One and the same.”

“At eleven at night?” Nick asked, incredulous.

“She carries a gun. The dark doesn’t faze her.”

“All right. I’ll check there. Thanks for the info.”

“What did you do to her?”

“Nothing!”

“It wasn’t nothing if she’s gone to see Mr. Lincoln.”

“It’s nothing we can’t work out,” he said with more confidence than he felt.

“Go find her, Nick,” Celia said, sending a pointed glance at Skip.

“Sorry again for the interruption,” Nick said on his way out the door. He jogged down Ninth Street, cut through Eastern Market and hailed a cab on East Capitol.

“Lincoln Memorial,” he told the cabbie.

“Not much happening there this time of night,” the driver said, no doubt thinking he’d picked up a misguided tourist.

“I know,” Nick replied in a clipped tone that discouraged further conversation. They arrived ten minutes later. Nick paid the driver, emerged from the car and took off jogging toward the lighted memorial.

“Help you, sir?” a park ranger said as Nick headed for the marble stairs.

He could’ve said no. The monument, like all the others, was open twenty-four hours a day, and he didn’t need permission to be there. But for the first time in the two weeks since he was sworn in, Nick decided to take advantage of his newfound rank. “I’m Senator Nick Cappuano. I’m meeting someone here.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Senator.” The ranger shook Nick’s hand. “I believe your friend is on that side,” he said, pointing, “under the Gettysburg Address.”

Nick still found it hard to believe that he was half of a couple everyone in the capital region recognized. “Thank you.” Over his shoulder, he caught the ranger’s grin as he watched Nick take the stairs two at a time. He found Sam right where the ranger had told him she’d be. Sitting on the floor, she had her knees pulled up to her chest, her arms tight around them and her face tucked into the valley formed by her knees.

“Samantha.”

Her head shot up, a shocked expression on her tear-streaked face. “What’re you doing here?”

“Your dad told me I might find you here.” Undone by her ravaged expression and wondering if he was responsible for it, he glanced at Lincoln. “Is it a coincidence that you flee to the first Republican president when you want to be alone?”

“I don’t come because he was a Republican.”

Nick sat down next to her on the cold floor. “Then why?”

She shrugged. “It’s so peaceful here. I’ve always loved it.”

“I’m drawn to Jefferson myself.”

“Naturally. The original Democrat.”

“One of them.” He studied her for a long moment before he said, “Are you a Republican, Samantha Holland?”

“Will you love me less if I say I am?”

He shook his head and reached for her hand. “Nothing could make me love you less.”

Her face tightened with strain that confused and scared him as he rubbed some warmth into her chilled hand. “Don’t be so sure.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Like I told Graham before—I’m a cop. I’m not affiliated with either party.”

“But if you
could
be, which one would it be?”

She glanced up at Lincoln. “Neither, really. I’m more of an issues kind of gal.”

Nick released a long deep breath.

“Are you disappointed I didn’t say I’m a Democrat?”

“Of course not.”

“I may not always agree with your position on issues that really matter to you.”

“I don’t expect you to.”

“Are you sure of that? Politics is such a big part of who you are, Nick. Now more than ever. I’d understand if some differences were too big for you to deal with. After all, we rushed into this. We didn’t really know each other—”

He stopped her with two fingers over her lips. “I know you. Do I know everything there is to know? Nope. Do I want to? Absolutely. Will there be other surprises? I sure as hell hope so. But don’t tell me I don’t know you. I know your heart, Samantha. I know what matters.” He didn’t expect her to break down into gulping sobs. Sliding his arm around her, he brought her head to rest on his chest. “What’s going on, babe?”

“I’m sorry for the way I acted with Julian,” she said when she could speak again. “I was way out of line. You were right. He was our guest, and I
was
baiting him.”

“He’s used to people with strong opinions. You can’t have beliefs like his without generating some controversy.”

“But you weren’t expecting that from me, and I embarrassed you.”

“No, you surprised me.”

“I surprised myself. I had no plans to get into that with him.”

“So why did you?” he asked, more curious than anything.

“All the coverage about him coming to town, about his nomination, knowing I was going to meet him. It’s stirred up some stuff for me.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“It’s kind of a long story,” she said with a wary glance at him.

He sat back against the marble wall and brought her in close to him to keep them warm. “Mr. Lincoln and I aren’t going anywhere.”

She was quiet for a long time—so long that he wondered if she was going to tell him what was causing her such dismay. “I’ve never told anyone this,” she finally said. “Other than my sisters, that is.”

Bracing himself for whatever he was about to hear, Nick linked their fingers and held her hand between both of his.

With a deep sigh, she said, “When I was a junior in college, I dated a French exchange student named Jean Paul for a couple of months toward the end of the school year. You probably don’t want to hear this, but it was one of those relationships that was long on sex and short on relating, if you know what I mean.”

He knew exactly what she meant and hated the idea of her with anyone else, but he kept his mouth shut so she’d continue.

“Jean Paul had already gone home to France when I discovered I was pregnant.”

Sensing where this was going, Nick fought to retain his composure.

“Tracy had just had Brooke,” she said of her fifteen-year-old niece. “I told you about Brooke’s father leaving Tracy to raise her alone, right?”

Nick nodded, recalling how Tracy’s husband Mike was raising Brooke as his own child.

“After watching what Tracy was going through, I totally panicked. I had one more year of school to finish and had my sights set on the police academy. With the dyslexia, school was a huge struggle, but I was determined to get that degree because I knew it would help me get promoted. How in the world was I going to fit a baby into that picture? And I had no one who could help me. My mother had run off to Florida with that guy she’d hooked up with, my dad was a mess over what my mother had put him through, Angela had a new job and was dating Spencer; Tracy was struggling to take care of Brooke. I can honestly say it was the only time in my life when I had no idea what to do.”

Nick wiped the tears from her cheeks. “You couldn’t have put the baby up for adoption?”

“My dad was so upset and disappointed with Tracy. Not that he ever expressed that to her, but he talked to me about it. No one even thinks about that anymore because we love Brooke so much, but at the time, it was a big deal.”

“You didn’t want to disappoint him, too.”

“No,” she said, sounding so utterly defeated. “I couldn’t have taken that on top of everything else I was dealing with.”

“So what did you do?”

After a long pause, she said, “I made an appointment at a clinic,” in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper. “I couldn’t see any other way out. I was awake the entire night before with what I thought were stomach pains, but when they examined me before the procedure, they discovered I was miscarrying.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Sam.”

“I was going to
kill
my baby!” The hysteria he heard in her voice alarmed him. “How can you say I didn’t do anything wrong? My periods were never the same afterward, and then the endometriosis set in a year or so later. It was like my body was punishing me for this awful thing I almost did.” Her voice caught on a sob. “I’m so ashamed, Nick. Even all these years later, I’m still so ashamed.”

Because he didn’t know what else to do, he held her tight against him and let her get it out.

“I cried for two weeks afterward. My sisters took care of me, saw me through the worst of it, but I’ve never told another living soul about that day until right now. I know it’s why I miscarried twice more, and it’s why I can’t have others.”

“How do you figure?”

“I’m being punished for being so willing to toss away the one I didn’t want.”

“Sam, honey, how can you think that?”

“Because! Look at what’s happened! When I
wanted
to get pregnant, I couldn’t, and then when I finally did, I couldn’t
stay
pregnant. How else am I supposed to see it?”

“As an awful coincidence. How would you have supported that child as a twenty-year-old college dropout?”

“I would’ve found a way.”

“But you never would’ve been a cop. Think of the lives you’ve saved and the murders you’ve prevented by getting all those killers off the streets. Doesn’t that in any way compensate?”

She shook her head. “Nothing can compensate for not wanting my own child.”

“You were a kid yourself. You felt trapped and alone. It wasn’t about
wanting
your child. It was about knowing you couldn’t care for him properly.”

“Sometimes I wonder if he knew I didn’t want him, and that’s why I miscarried.”

“I’m sorry this happened to you. That you were put in this position and had to make such an awful choice.”

“I know you must think less of me.”

“I don’t, Sam. I swear I don’t. I support a woman’s right to choose—any woman. Even you.”

As if he hadn’t spoken, she said, “Your own mother was only fifteen when she had you, and you turned out fine.”

“No thanks to her.”

“But still.” Sam took a deep shuddering breath. “At the crowd-control meeting we had at work the other day, they showed us some of the propaganda so we’d be prepared for what to expect from the protestors. They had pictures of aborted fetuses. I hit the recall button on my pager to get myself out of there. I got so sick in the bathroom. I thought it would never stop.”

“I’m sorry, babe,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry you had to see those pictures. I’m sorry you had to go through this whole ordeal and that you carry such a heavy burden.”

“In some twisted way, I think maybe I baited Julian because I wanted to tell you. I just couldn’t figure out how. But I wanted you to know.”

“I’m glad you told me.”

Resting her head on her knees, she turned her face so she could see him. “This is why we won’t have kids.”

“You can’t know that for sure. You may have ended up with endometriosis anyway, even if you hadn’t had that miscarriage. Maybe you already had it, didn’t know it, and that caused the miscarriage.”

Startled, she looked up at him. “You really think that’s possible?”

“Anything is possible. The point is you’ll never really know so why assume the worst? Have you tried to have kids with anyone other than Peter?”

“Of course not.”

“How much you wanna bet he was the problem, not you?” Nick waggled his eyebrows at her. “We’ve already proven
he
was the problem in another important area, right? You’ve never tried to have
my
kids. And remember what I told you—when we’re ready, we’ll have them. If we can’t have them the usual way, we’ll adopt, we’ll hire a surrogate, whatever it takes. We’ll have them.”

“I don’t know if I deserve them—or you.”

He got up and reached out a hand to her. “Sure you do.”

She took his hand and let him help her up.

Because he needed it as much as she did, he hugged her close to him.

Under his coat, her fingers clutched his back. “I love you,” she whispered. “I love you so much.”

“And I love you even more than I did earlier, if that’s possible.” With his arm around her shoulders, he led her to the stairs. “Let’s go home. I saved you a lobster.”