“It’s Archie. Can you come up here?”

  “On my way.” As she left her office, Jeannie McBride returned to the pit empty-handed.

  “The Coyne files were checked out by your father one week before his shooting and never returned.”

  A charge of awareness went through Sam, leaving a tingle in the area of her backbone. She’d learned to trust those tingles as they usually meant she was onto something big. “Search my father’s stuff again for the Coyne files. I want everyone on that. I’ll be right back.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  SHE TOOK THE stairs to the IT division two at a time, praying she wouldn’t run into Ramsey up there, as his Special Victims division was located across the hall from IT. Thankfully, the hallway was deserted as she ducked into IT and walked toward Archie’s office in the back, ignoring the curious stares of his team as she passed their cubicles.

  People were so damned curious about her these days, which was ridiculous. So her husband was the vice president. His lofty job hadn’t changed her daily existence all that much, except for the fact that she was recognized everywhere she went. Otherwise, she was still the same person and cop she’d been before his promotion.

  She stepped into Archie’s office. “Hey. What’s up?”

  “Come in. Shut the door.”

  Surprised by the unusual secrecy, she did as he asked.

  “Come see this.”

  She walked around his desk to the computer terminal that boasted a massive monitor. As she took in the scene on his screen, she realized she was looking at G Street. “Is that...”

  “It’s from the day of your dad’s shooting.”

  When she took a closer look, she could see her dad’s black boots on the ground. That was the only part of him she could see as he was surrounded by paramedics and other personnel. Her stomach knotted, her heart began to beat faster. She recalled being told at the time that it took almost fifteen minutes after their arrival for the paramedics to stabilize her dad to the point where he could be transported.

  “Watch.” Archie played the video and Sam watched the chaos unfold in a stream of flashing lights, uniformed first responders, grim-faced cops and...Conklin.

  Sam gasped. “Oh my God.”

  “Right smack in the middle of it.”

  Not just in the middle of it, but supervising, directing, barking orders. “Holy fuck.”

  “I’ve got to turn this over to Hill, but I wanted you to see it first.”

  “I...I appreciate the heads-up.” Shock whipped through her like an extra heartbeat as she stared at the freeze-framed image of the man who’d taken her father’s place as deputy chief after Skip was medically retired.

  “Sam? Are you okay?”

  “For so long I’ve craved answers for my dad, for all of us. But this...”

  “It’s inconceivable.” Archie’s blunt statement summed it up perfectly.

  “Why haven’t we seen this before now?”

  “It had gotten archived somehow.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “When we’re working a case, we keep everything associated with the case as part of the active file, including the film. For whatever reason, this piece of film wasn’t part of the case file. I found it in the archives.”

  Sam tried to process what he was saying. “How did you know to look there?”

  “After scouring everything attached to the case file, I went through all the other footage we have from that day in the archives, just to see if we’d missed anything.”

  “In other words, if you hadn’t done that, this might never have been seen again?”

  “Correct.”

  “Can you tell who archived it?”

  “I’m going to dig into that and see what I can find out.”

  “But it had to have been someone inside this building?”

  “That’s also correct. It would be someone who had access to case files and had admin authority. Captain or above.”

  Sam’s legs felt rubbery, so she took a seat, landing hard in his visitor’s chair. “What the hell is this, Archie?”

  “I don’t know, but you can bet that our whole team is doing everything we can to get to the bottom of it.”

  “And when we do? What happens then?”

  “Then we throw the book at the motherfuckers who did this.” His eyes fairly burned with the same fury she’d felt for years.

  She leaned forward and dropped her head into her hands.

  Archie sat next to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “I can’t begin to imagine how difficult this has to be for you.”

  “It’s nothing compared to how difficult life was for him the last four years.”

  “Still, to have the trail leading in-house is a kick in the teeth for all of us, but no one more so than you.”

  Sam shrugged. “It’s not going to change anything or bring him back.”

  “Maybe not, but at least the person or people who tried to kill him won’t be walking around free anymore.”

  It would be, Sam realized, a smaller comfort to catch his shooter now that her dad was gone than it would’ve been when he was still alive.

  “There is that, and at least he won’t be here to find out that one of his friends might’ve been involved.”

  “True.”

  Marshaling her resources, she stood and took a deep breath. “Thank you for your hard work on this. It’s much appreciated.”

  “I wish I could say it’s my pleasure, but it’s certainly a privilege to hopefully get justice for a great man and decorated police officer.”

  “Thank you, Archie. I appreciate the heads-up on this.”

  “No problem.”

  “Let me know if you find anything else.”

  “You’ll be the first to know.”

  “You’re the best.” Sam left him with a small smile and headed downstairs, continuing to puzzle through the various things they’d learned in the last few days and trying to make sense of the new details in the larger context.

  Freddie was waiting for her when she returned to the pit. “No sign of the Coyne case files in your dad’s boxes.”

  Sam thought of the boxes they’d found in Celia’s attic. “Do you recall seeing them in the stuff at the house?” They’d rifled through the boxes so fast, she barely remembered what she’d seen.

  “They weren’t there.”

  “Do you think it was a coincidence that Dad was shot days after he checked out those files on a cold case involving his former partner?”

  “My partner, a very wise woman, has taught me that there’s no such thing as coincidences.”

  “She is a very wise woman to have taught you that.”

  “You won’t hear me arguing. What did Archie want?”

  “Come in.”

  He followed her into the office, closed the door and leaned back against it.

  “He found archived footage from the day of the shooting that shows Conklin right in the middle of the emergency response.”

  “Wow.”

  “The thing is—only a captain or above can archive the footage.”

  “Was he able to determine who did it?”

  “He’s working on that.”

  “It’s like one bombshell after another.”

  “After years of nothing.”

  “How’re you doing?”

  “I’m trying to make sense of things that make no sense, but otherwise, I’m fine.”

  A knock sounded on the office door. Freddie pushed himself off the door and opened it to Captain Malone.

  “Could I have a minute, Lieutenant?”

  Sam waved him in. “Of course.” To Freddie, she said, “Let me know when Hill is ready to start.”

  “I will.” Freddie left the office and pulled the door closed.

  “What’s up?” Sam asked the captain.

  “After the chief and I were at Conklin’s the other night, he made three calls right after we left—one to his wife, one to his sleazeball lawyer, Bagley, and the other to Roy Gallagher.”

  Tingles once again electrified her, feeding the buzz of being onto something big. “That’s the second time today Gallagher’s name has come up. I saw Alice Coyne Fitzgerald earlier, and she said something about him having been part of your posse out of the academy.”

  “He was. Lasted a year. Said it wasn’t for him. He ran for council a year later, and that’s where he’s been ever since.”

  “Of course I knew he’d been on the council for years, but I’d never heard about him being a cop.”

  “He didn’t leave much of a mark. Wasn’t here long enough.”

  “Impressions?”

  “Big opinion of himself. Wasn’t one of my favorite people. I was glad when he left the department. He didn’t have the stuff.”

  Sam knew exactly what he meant. People either had what it took to be a cop or they didn’t. It was that simple.

  “Can we get Hill to ask Conklin why he called Gallagher after your visit the other night?”

  “Already passed it along to him.”

  Sam nodded. “Good. And the search of Conklin’s place?”

  “Ongoing.”

  “One other thing to note—I asked McBride to get me the files from the Coyne case, and when she went to Records, she was told my dad checked them out a week before his shooting and they were never returned. We’ve looked through the files from his office, but they’re not there.”

  Malone pondered that for a full minute, his expression not revealing anything. “What the hell is this, Sam?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m starting to wonder if the two shootings were related in some way.”

  “Joe suggested the same thing last night. At first I thought, They were decades apart. How could they be related? But now... Who the fuck knows?”

  “Roll with me here for a second... What if Coyne had stumbled onto something that got him killed? And then what if my dad stumbled upon the same thing that had him wondering if it had gotten Coyne killed? He starts to dig into it, the wrong people find that out and next thing you know, Dad is fighting for his life. The month before the shooting was a blank to him afterward, so he wouldn’t have remembered what he’d been doing.”

  “It’s as good of a theory as I’ve heard since Conklin was implicated.”

  “Do I have your permission to continue to explore the possible connection between the two shootings?”

  Malone laughed—hard.

  “What the hell is so funny?”

  “I’m trying to remember the last time you asked for my permission to do anything.”

  Sam rolled her eyes at him. “I’m not that insubordinate.”

  “Ah, yeah, you really are, but since you do such a magnificent job of making me look good, I let it go most of the time.”

  “Whatever. Answer the question—can I pursue this without it coming back to bite us in the ass on the conflict of interest front?”

  “Proceed with caution. Keep me informed of every development, no matter how small.”

  “Will do.”

  “And if you find something, I’ll have to take the credit.”

  “I don’t care about that if it leads to closing the case.”

  A knock on the door had Malone opening it to Freddie.

  “Hill is ready.”

  “We’re coming,” Malone said.

  Sam got up to follow them, anxious to hear what the deputy chief had to say for himself. Not that anything he could say would make up for the fact that he’d withheld pertinent information for nearly four years.

  * * *

  SAM, FREDDIE AND Malone stepped into the interrogation observation room, joining Chief Farnsworth and Tom Forrester. Sam couldn’t remember the last time the U.S. Attorney himself had come to HQ to observe an interrogation. Assistant U.S. Attorney Faith Miller was also there and greeted Sam with a sympathetic smile.

  Hill appeared in the doorway. “Is everyone here?”

  Farnsworth nodded.

  Sam made eye contact with Hill, hoping she was conveying everything she needed to tell him without saying a word that could compromise the case.

  Hill gave a subtle lift of his chin to let her know he understood the magnitude of what he was about to do and how much it meant to her and so many others. Then he turned and headed into the room where Conklin sat with his attorney. Dressed in the orange jumpsuit that prisoners wore in the city jail and sporting stubble on his jaw, Conklin barely resembled the top-ranking cop they were used to seeing at HQ every day.

  In his younger years, he’d been blond, but now his hair was thinning on top and was mostly gray. His face was pinched with strain, which Sam found enormously satisfying. Good, she thought. You should be stressed, you evil son of a bitch.

  Avery’s deputy, George Terrell, joined him in the interrogation room.

  Terrell requested permission to record the interview.

  Bagley gave permission, and Terrell turned on the recording device that sat in the middle of the table.

  “Special Agent in Charge Avery Hill and Special Agent George Terrell in the interview of Paul Conklin, suspended deputy chief of the Metropolitan Police Department, represented by Charles Bagley.” Hill also provided the date and time of the interview. “Mr. Conklin, you are charged with concealing evidence in the investigation into the shooting of Deputy Chief Skip Holland.”

  Sam absolutely loved that Hill referred to Conklin as Mr. Conklin and her dad as deputy chief. He had earned her eternal affection with that one sentence.

  Conklin’s eyes narrowed with disdain that also pleased her. “I didn’t withhold anything.”

  “Did you speak to a man named Frank Davis on G Street on the date in question?”

  “I wasn’t on G Street that day.”

  “Special Agent Terrell, would you please play the footage from the scene of Skip Holland’s shooting?”

  At that, Conklin sat up a little straighter in his seat.

  Bagley glanced at him, eyebrow raised.

  Opening his laptop, Terrell called up the footage Archie had found and turned the computer to face Conklin and Bagley before pressing Play.

  Sam held her breath, her gaze fixed on Conklin’s face as he watched the clip.

  His expression never changed, but his body language conveyed increased tension.

  “As you can see from the video, you were present at the scene of Skip Holland’s shooting, and according to Mr. Davis, you spoke with him. In addition, Lieutenant Kevin Viera told investigators that he gave you Skip Holland’s messenger bag. Can you tell us what you did with that bag?”

  Conklin didn’t blink. “I wasn’t there. I don’t know Frank Davis. And no one gave me anything of Skip’s.”

  “The video puts you at the scene,” Hill said. “Mr. Davis can attest to the fact that he spoke to you and called you annually on the anniversary of the shooting, looking for information about the investigation. We have his number on your call log on three straight anniversaries of the shooting. Viera, who had worked with you in the past, is certain he gave the messenger bag to you. That’s a lot of evidence that indicates you were at the scene.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “Would you be willing to take a polygraph?”

  “My client is a highly decorated police officer.” To Sam, Bagley sounded like an arrogant ass. “That his reputation is being impugned this way is a crime, and your questions are opening the MPD and the FBI to a massive lawsuit.”

  “We’ll take our chances,” Hill said drolly. “Answer the question, Mr. Conklin. Would you be willing to undergo a polygraph examination?”

  Conklin shifted in his seat.

  “No polygraphs,” Bagley said. “My client has answered your questions truthfully and should be released from custody immediately.”

  Hill’s chuckle appeared to infuriate Conklin. “That’s not going to happen. Your client will be arraigned in the morning on felony charges of withholding pertinent information in a manslaughter investigation that has been upgraded to a homicide. He will also be charged with lying to the FBI.”

  Conklin snarled at him. “I didn’t withhold anything, and I’m not lying.”

  “Tell it to the jury. We have multiple witnesses who say otherwise, as well as video that puts you at the scene.” Hill gathered his notes into a pile and stood.

  “Wait.” Conklin sounded nervous now. “Where’re you going?”

  “We’re finished here.”

  Bagley stood to face off with Hill. “I trust that you’ll be releasing my client?”

  Hill leaned forward, getting right in the lawyer’s face. “You trust incorrectly. Your client will be held until arraignment at which time he’s apt to be ordered held without bail, which will be my recommendation to the U.S. Attorney.”

  Conklin stood, his face red and his eyes popping. “This is outrageous!”

  “You know what’s outrageous?” Hill spoke softly, but his words were laced with steel. “Withholding evidence involving the attempted murder of a fellow law enforcement officer who thought of you as a friend. That’s truly outrageous, and you have only yourself to blame for whatever happens next. Let’s go, Agent Terrell. We’re finished here.”

  Sam wanted to stand and applaud the FBI agent who, at times, had been a thorn in her side. Today, he’d been an advocate for her father and the truth, and she’d never appreciated him more than she did right then.

  “That was very well done, Agent Hill,” Farnsworth said when Hill appeared at the door to the observation room.

  “Very well done,” Sam said. “Thank you.”

  “I wish I could say it was a pleasure.” Disgust clung to his every word. Catching one of their own in a web of lies was one of the most difficult things any law enforcement officer confronted, but when those lies involved the shooting of another well-respected, decorated officer, it only compounded the disgust.