Fatal Identity. Marie Force
it or not, Captain, I’ve been suspended before, and I know how this works.”
They were nearly to the door when he stopped her with a hand to her arm. “I have to tell you, Lieutenant, that in your place, after what you went through with Stahl, I probably would’ve clocked Ramsey for what he said. But—”
Sam rolled her eyes. “How did I know there was a ‘but’ coming?”
“I want to see you rise through the ranks and be rewarded for your hard work and service to the department. I can almost guarantee that’s not going to happen if you get suspended again.”
Sam thought about that for a second before she replied. “I appreciate your candor, as always, but if I never go any further than lieutenant, I will have done a thousand times better than I ever expected after coming in here with dyslexia and my father’s legacy to live up to. It’s been a great career. I wouldn’t change a single thing, even the stuff that got me suspended, because the first time I got Nick out of it, and the second time I got to deck Ramsey and then listen to him squeal like a baby. Life is good, you know?”
Malone grunted out a laugh. “You’re too much, Holland.”
“I know. You guys tell me that all the time.”
“Be gone with you, and don’t let me see you around these parts until Wednesday.”
“Ahhh,” she said with a dramatic sigh, “bubble baths and bonbons for four whole days. Punish me please. Maybe Nick can punch the president and get himself suspended from the White House. I’ll have to ask him if he’s got any scores to settle, because this would be a great time to get it done.”
“You’re taking this surprisingly well, Lieutenant.”
“I almost died in that basement with Stahl. It takes a lot to rattle my cage after that.”
“Possible criminal charges are no laughing matter. You might want to talk to one of the union attorneys while you’re off, just in case.”
“I’ll think about that. Can you imagine the headlines? Vice President’s Wife Charged With Assault. Something tells me the White House communications people have never dealt with that particular headline.”
“Safe to say they’ve never dealt with the likes of you.”
“Aw, Captain, you flatter me. I’d better get out of here before someone hears I’m still here and I get in more trouble. Take care of my people for me.”
“I will.”
Sam pushed through the double doors and into cool, crisp winter air that smelled like snow. She’d had a conversation yesterday with her son, Scotty, about how air can smell like snow. Scotty said it wasn’t possible to smell snow, even after she got him to take a few deep breaths to see what she meant. He remained skeptical, but she had a few more weeks of winter to prove her point.
“Mrs. Cappuano.”
Sam turned toward the man who’d called to her. He was in his late twenties or early thirties, handsome with dark blond hair and brown eyes. The panic she saw in his expression put her immediately on alert. “That’s me, although they don’t call me that around here. And you are?”
“Josh Hamilton.”
Sam shook his outstretched hand. “What can I do for you, Josh?”
“I need your help.”
“Okay.”
“This... It’s going to sound sort of crazy, so bear with me.” He took a deep breath. “Today I was bored at work, so I started surfing the web, you know, just clicking around aimlessly.”
As a technophobe of the highest order, Sam didn’t know because she’d never done that and certainly not at work, where she was usually too busy to pee, let alone surf.
Josh took another deep breath, and Sam’s anxiety ramped up a notch. “I saw this story about a baby who was kidnapped thirty years ago. They had this age-progression photo showing what he’d look like now, and...” He gulped. “It was me.”
“Wait. What?”
With trembling hands, Josh retrieved his cell phone from his pocket and called up a web page, zeroing in on a digitally produced photo that did, in fact, bear a striking resemblance to him.
“Those photos are produced by computers. They’re not exact.”
“That’s me! And it explains why I’ve never felt at home or accepted in my family. What if they took me?”
“Hang on a minute. What evidence do you have to suspect that your parents participated in a criminal act to bring you into their family?”
He seemed to make an effort to calm down. “They’re extremely accomplished people and so are my siblings. My brother is a board-certified neurosurgeon. He went to Harvard for undergrad and medical school. My sister is an attorney, also Harvard educated, Law Review, the whole nine yards. And then there’s me. I barely made it out of state college after having spent most of my five years there on academic probation. After four years working for the federal government, I’m a GS-9 at Veterans Affairs, where I shuffle paper all day while counting the minutes until I can leave. The only reason I have that job is because my father, who has never approved of a thing I said or did, pulled strings to get me in. They’re all Republicans while I’m a liberal Democrat who fully supports your husband. I hope he runs in four years, by the way.”
“None of that proves your parents kidnapped you.”
“Will you take my case? Please? I need to know for sure. This would explain so much of why I’ve felt like a square peg in my own family my entire life.”
Sam held up a hand to stop him. “I’m a homicide cop, not a private investigator, but if you really believe a crime has been committed, I can refer you to someone within the department—”
“No.” He shook his head. “I want you. You’re the best. Everyone says so.”
“I’m honored you think so, but I’m on a leave of absence for the next few days, so I’m not able to take your case personally.”
“It has to be you. You’re the only one I’d trust to do it right.”
“The Metro PD has plenty of very qualified detectives who could look into this for you and help determine whether a crime has been committed, Mr. Hamilton.”
“You don’t understand. It can’t be any random detective. It can only be you.”
“Are you going to tell me why?”
He took another series of deep breaths, appearing to summon the courage he needed to tell her why. “It’s... He’s... Well, my dad, you see... He’s Troy Hamilton, the FBI director.”
HOLY BOMBSHELL, BATMAN! Sam’s mind raced with implications and scenarios and flat-out disbelief. “You can’t honestly believe that your father, one of the top law enforcement officials in the country, kidnapped a child thirty years ago.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Josh said.
“He’s one of the most respected men in our business. He’s revered.”
“Believe me, I know all about how revered he is. I hear about it on a regular basis.” He looked at her beseechingly. “You have to help me. I don’t know who else to turn to. Besides some of the people who work for my father, I don’t know any other cops, and you’re the best. And...I’m scared.” The last two words were said on a faint whisper.
Sam wanted nothing to do with the snake pit this case could turn out to be, but the detective in her was far too intrigued to walk away. “How’d you get here?”
“I