As the medical examiner’s truck arrived, Malone took Sam by the arm. “Let’s take a walk.”

  Sam didn’t want to walk, but she let him lead her around the corner, away from the prying eyes of the other first responders and the neighbors who’d gathered, as they always did, hoping for a look at someone else’s disaster.

  After a short walk, Sam stopped and turned to face the captain. “What is this?”

  “I don’t know.” He ran his fingers through wiry gray hair, frustration rolling off him in waves.

  “It’s like we’ve stirred a hornet’s nest, and now the hornets are coming at us and everyone we’ve talked to in the process of stirring the nest.”

  “Or the hornets are running scared and attacking anyone who’s threatening them.”

  “Which means we need to protect everyone else involved, including Kevin Viera, the paramedic who gave us a statement.”

  Sam had reached for her phone to call Viera when Cameron Green came running around the corner. “Lieutenant!”

  Sam’s stomach dropped with dread.

  “We just got a call from Dispatch. Viera, the paramedic, was run off the road a short time ago as he was leaving the gym.”

  Sam swallowed hard, the nausea swirling. “Is he alive?”

  “Yeah, but they had to cut him out of his truck. They’re taking him to GW. It was called in as level-one trauma.”

  She glanced at the captain. “Let’s go.” To Green, she said, “Stay until Crime Scene gets here and talk to all the neighbors. See if anyone heard anything from Davis’s place.”

  “Yes, ma’am. We’re on it.”

  Sam handed her keys to Cameron. “Tell Cruz to take my car back to the house when you’re done here.”

  “Will do.”

  She followed the captain to his SUV and got into the passenger seat. As he drove them to GW, she focused on breathing and not vomiting in his car.

  Malone put through a call to Hill, keeping the phone on speaker, which Sam appreciated.

  “What’s up?” Hill asked.

  “We’ve got witnesses turning up dead or injured.” He filled Hill in on what’d happened to Davis and Viera.

  “Jesus. We got the lab back from the card that Lieutenant Holland submitted. The only prints on it were hers, so that’s a dead end. And Lieutenant Archelotta was unable to determine who archived the footage from G Street.”

  Sam boiled with frustration as two leads failed to turn up anything that could help.

  “It’s time to put some serious pressure on Conklin,” Malone said. “He’s the key to this whole thing.”

  “Agreed. I’ll get him back into interrogation within the hour.”

  “Lieutenant Holland and I are going by the GW ER to check on Viera, and then we’ll be back to the house.”

  “I’ll wait for you.”

  The line went dead.

  Sam realized her hands were shaking so she tucked them under her legs.

  When they were stopped at a red light, Malone glanced over at her. “Talk to me.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “I’m thinking someone is going to an awful lot of trouble to make sure we don’t solve this case—and they’ve been doing that for four years now with my dad, perhaps as long as decades with Steven Coyne. Knowing it was all intentional... The roadblocks, the dead ends... That makes it so much worse.”

  “I know.” He tightened his grip on the wheel. “Makes me want to kill someone. I can only imagine how you must feel.”

  “I want to see the messenger bag and what was in it.”

  “Let’s see what’s up with Viera, and then we’ll check it out.”

  She appreciated that he understood her need to see that bag. “We need people on Viera to make sure whoever put him in the hospital doesn’t try to finish the job while he’s there.”

  Malone put through a call to the Patrol officer in charge and requested coverage at GW.

  “Yes, sir. The officers who took the initial call are accompanying him to the ER. We’ll instruct them to stay with him.”

  “Very good. Thank you.”

  Sam breathed a small sigh of relief at knowing Viera would be protected. “What about Alice?”

  “Alice Coyne?”

  “Yes. She’s been talking to me, giving me context. I was there earlier today. If I was being followed, they know she’s cooperating.”

  Malone redialed the Patrol officer in charge. “Get me two people at the home of Alice Coyne Fitzgerald as well.” He recited the address. “Immediately.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Malone ended the call. “You should call her and tell her what’s going on, so she knows why there’re cops posted outside her house.”

  Sam’s hands were still trembling when she placed the call to Alice.

  “Hi, honey. Did you think of something else you needed to know?”

  “Not yet.” Sam closed her eyes and said the words that Alice needed to hear, hating that she had to bring a new horror to a woman who’d already seen more than her share.

  Alice gasped. “What would they want with me?”

  “I don’t think they’d want anything, but I’m not taking any chances with your safety.”

  “Sam...”

  “We’re closing in on whoever shot my dad and possibly Steven too. They’re getting desperate. You have to let us keep you safe.”

  “Of course, but I’m afraid.”

  “Don’t be. Our officers will be there until this is over, and I’ll check on you myself later. I promise.”

  “Okay.” She sounded shaky but resolved.

  “I’ll be in touch.”

  “It’s the right thing to do,” Malone said after Sam ended the call.

  “Even if it scares the hell out a woman who’s already had more than her share?”

  “Even if. Better safe than sorry.”

  They arrived at GW and entered through the emergency doors to find the waiting room full of uniformed paramedics.

  Sam recognized Branson among them and made her way to him. “How is he?”

  “We don’t know anything yet.” The same man who’d been so friendly to her only a few days ago could barely look at her now, which meant he blamed her for the fact that his friend and colleague had been hurt. “But the first responders said it was bad. They had to cut him out.”

  “Were there witnesses?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “We’ll pull the film from the area.”

  “You do that.”

  “I get that you’re pissed—”

  “I’m glad you get it. He’s a good guy who did the right thing, and where did that get him? Did you know his girlfriend is expecting their first child? That’s her over there. She’s had a difficult pregnancy and is supposed to be on bed rest. They’re going to admit her because they’re afraid she’ll lose the baby.”

  “I’m sorry this has happened to them both. To all of you.”

  “So am I. If he dies...” Branson shook his head.

  “Let’s pray that he doesn’t.”

  Someone called to Branson, and he walked away, leaving her feeling completely alone in a room full of people.

  Malone pushed his way through the crowd to her. “Come on.”

  Sam didn’t ask where they were going as she followed him through the double doors to the treatment area. They stopped outside a cubicle where several Patrol officers stood with Dr. Anderson, whose grim expression only added to Sam’s tension.

  “What’ve you got?” Malone asked.

  The Patrol officer consulted her notes. “Viera was headed south on 21st Street Northwest, between Virginia and Constitution Avenues, when he was forced off the road by a white vehicle.”

  “How do you know it was white?” Sam asked.

  “The streaks of paint on the side of Viera’s navy blue pickup truck were white. Viera’s truck was found upside down. The other car had fled the scene by the time we arrived. We’ve put out an APB for a white vehicle with damage to the passenger side.”

  “Who called it in?”

  “An Uber driver who happened upon the wreck after it had happened.”

  “Contact Lieutenant Archelotta to find out what we’ve got for cameras in the area.”

  “I’ve already done that,” the Patrol officer said.

  “Good work, Officer Densley.” Sam took note of the young woman’s name after being impressed by her thorough report.

  “How’s he doing?” Malone asked Anderson.

  “He’s in rough shape with broken ribs, clavicle, femur and a head injury that’s our biggest concern.”

  “Will he survive?” Sam asked.

  “I hope so. We’ll know more in a few hours.”

  “We need him, Doc,” Malone said.

  “His girlfriend and unborn child need him too,” Sam added.

  “We’re doing everything we can. Let me get back to him.” Anderson returned to Viera’s room.

  “Don’t leave this hallway for any reason,” Malone said to the Patrol officers. “If anyone tries to get to him, do whatever is needed to keep him safe.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The two young officers seemed nervous but determined to follow orders.

  As she followed Malone back to the waiting room, Sam wished she felt better about leaving them to protect Viera’s life.

  Malone walked through the crowded waiting room, which went silent as they passed through.

  Sam wondered if they were all blaming her for the fact that their friend was in critical condition and fighting for his life. She’d gone looking for him and dragged him into the investigation, and now...

  “Don’t go there,” Malone said gruffly as they walked to his vehicle. “It’s not your fault or our fault that this happened.”

  “Try telling that to his pregnant girlfriend or the people who work with him every day.”

  “It’s not your fault. You were doing your job, and it led to him.”

  “Who else knew that it led to him besides his colleagues and ours?”

  “What’re you getting at?”

  “Am I being followed?”

  “Have you felt like you were?”

  “Nope, but my head hasn’t been a hundred percent in the game the way it usually is. I probably wouldn’t have noticed if I was being trailed.”

  “Conklin knew we’d talked to him. Don’t forget that.”

  “True.”

  They were in his SUV and seat-belted in, but he made no move to start the engine.

  Sam stared out the passenger window as the silence stretched into minutes. “Let’s deal with Conklin before someone else ends up dead.”

  “Sam—”

  “At this point, what does it matter if he does ten years or twenty? I just want answers. I want it to be over, Cap, for my dad, for my family, for everyone who loved him. I want justice any way I can get it—for him and for Steven, if his case is related.”

  “All right, then. Let’s go see what the son of a bitch has to say for himself.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  UPON THEIR ARRIVAL back at HQ, Malone asked that Skip’s messenger bag and the contents be brought to his office immediately.

  Filled with a strange mix of anticipation, dread and excitement, Sam paced the small room while they waited. She had no idea what she’d find in that messenger bag or what it would mean to the case, but she knew for certain that having that piece of her dad back in her custody would mean the world.

  Memories of early-morning coffee dates and happy-hour gatherings at O’Leary’s siphoned through her thoughts, along with the many times she’d had to implore him not to intervene on her behalf when she was struggling with Stahl at work. The reminders of the life they’d led before someone tried to kill him were bittersweet. On the one hand, she loved to think about the way things used to be. On the other hand, it was almost too painful to remember him before the devastating injury, especially in light of how he’d been forced to live afterward.

  And to know, all that time, someone close to them had held the answers they’d craved and had chosen to protect himself rather than do the right thing... It would take her years to get her head around that.

  Malone eyed her warily. “You look like you’re about to spontaneously combust.”

  “I feel like I might.”

  “We’re close, Sam. Closer than we’ve ever been.”

  “I know.”

  “But?”

  “I’m still trying to wrap my head around Conklin’s involvement.”

  “You’re not the only one.”

  “How many do you think there are? Out of four thousand, how many are crooked?”

  “Maybe one percent.”

  “That’d be forty. That’s too many.”

  “We’ve gotten rid of two of the worst with Conklin and Stahl.”

  “Or so we think. Who knows how deep the cancer has permeated the department.”

  “I have to believe that most of the people we work with are on the side of right. The day I no longer believe that is the day I’ll turn in my badge.” He placed his hands on her upper arms, forcing her to stop pacing and meet his intense gaze. “Don’t let a few bad apples ruin your love for the job. Don’t give them that satisfaction. Your dad would hate that.”

  “Yes, he would. I’m glad he didn’t live long enough to find out that Conklin was involved.”

  “Me too. That would’ve broken him.”

  A uniformed officer appeared at the door, bearing a large plastic evidence bag. “Per your request, Captain. It’s been fully processed, so no need to glove up.”

  Malone took it from the officer. “Thank you.” He closed the door and handed the bag and a printed report to Sam.

  She took it from him, hugging it to her chest while reading the report that indicated Deputy Chief Conklin’s prints had been found on the bag, along with those of Deputy Chief Holland and Conklin’s wife.

  “Take as long as you need. I’ll tell Hill to wait for you.” The door clicked shut behind him as he left the room.

  Sam went around to sit at his immaculate desk. She would never understand how neat-freak people like him and Nick got anything done in such sterile work spaces. As she broke the seal on the plastic bag containing the messenger bag, tears filled her eyes. She refused to give in to them. Not now. Not yet. Soon... But not yet.

  Handling the worn leather gingerly, she removed it from the plastic bag and placed it on Malone’s desktop. For the longest time she only stared at it as if it somehow had the power to bring back the man who’d once carried it. The bag couldn’t bring him back to her, but perhaps it could yield some of his secrets. Touching the Kiss Me I’m Irish key chain, she let it slip through her fingers, recalling his over-the-top pride in his Irish heritage and mourning the fact that he’d never made it to Ireland. That’d been on his retirement bucket list and was another thing that’d been taken from him by the shooter.

  She flipped open the outer flap, unzipped the largest pocket and withdrew a stack of file folders that included those pertaining to the Coyne shooting. Sam set them aside to go through later. In addition to the Coyne files, she found a stack of newspaper articles about Roy Gallagher, sending a new zing of tingles down her backbone.

  “I knew it. I fucking knew it.”

  She found a piece of paper with the names Santoro and Ryan circled in red ink.

  Sam knew she ought to find Malone and update him on what she’d found, but she took one more minute to go through each of the other pockets, finding his business cards, a pack of the mint gum he’d loved, pictures of her sisters and their children, a photo of him with Celia, and Sam’s official police portrait. In yet another pocket, she found a spare set of keys to his house as well as the department SUV that had been transferred to Conklin after her father was medically retired.

  She put everything back exactly where she’d found it, knowing she would never again unzip the pockets or remove the items from where he’d kept them. The bag would remain in evidence through the trials of those involved, but it would one day return to Sam’s custody and she would find a place to keep it where it could never be lost again.

  Taking the files and the copies of the Gallagher newspaper stories with her, she went to find Malone in the lobby, conferring with the chief.

  “Find anything?” Malone asked.

  She handed him the stack of photocopies of news stories pertaining to Gallagher. “Told you so.”

  With the chief looking on, Malone flipped through the articles about Gallagher opening yet another restaurant, buying yet another apartment building and running again for reelection.

  “What I want to know,” Sam said, “is where a working-class kid from Foxhall Village got the money to build such a massive business conglomerate and how he manages it all while also serving as a full-time member of the city council. We also need to find out who Santoro and Ryan are.” She showed the piece of paper on which Skip had written their names and circled them with red ink.

  “The answer to those questions may very well break this entire thing,” Farnsworth said. “Let’s go.”

  Sam followed them to the interrogation room, where Hill waited with Terrell, as well as Faith Miller, outside the door. Malone updated them on the items they had found in Skip’s bag.

  “Ready?” Hill asked, his gaze landing on Sam.

  She nodded and stepped into the observation room.

  The others followed, but she paid them no mind as she set her sight on Conklin’s unshaved face, bracing herself for whatever he might say and how it would change everything. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Good. She hoped his guilty conscience was causing havoc.

  “You requested this meeting,” Hill said. “We’re listening.”

  “Deputy Chief Conklin is willing to make a statement that will provide information that should help to resolve two outstanding homicide cases, in exchange for leniency and isolation from the general prison population.”