Fatal Reckoning (Fatal #14)(10)

“Absolutely. Will do. I’ll be in touch.”

“Thanks again.”

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

“It’s okay. Sam was right. I definitely want to know. Take care.”

“You too.”

Freddie ended the call and sat perfectly still for a long time, trying to decide what to do next.

“Call her, Freddie.”

“She’s probably overwhelmed with calls and people.”

“She’d want to hear from you.”

“I’ll try her.” Someone had told them about a free app to make calls while they were overseas, but he hadn’t expected to need it. He opened the app, dialed Sam’s number and waited for it to go through. It rang and rang before her voice mail picked up. Closing his eyes, he tried to find the right words. “Hey, it’s me. I just heard the news. Call me if you get a second. I’m so sorry, and I’m thinking of you all, and I’m thinking of Skip… I, um, I don’t even know what to say, Sam. Elin and I love you guys.”

Sighing, he ended the call and put his phone on a table. It occurred to him that Nick would be on his way home from the Europe trip today and wouldn’t have been there when disaster struck. That only made Freddie feel worse for Sam—and Nick, who’d be beside himself.

Elin got up, put on one of the silk robes she’d received as a shower gift and came to him. “What can I do?”

Freddie brought her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her. “This helps.” Outside their hotel, the sound of cars going by, horns and sirens blaring, could be heard in the heart of Rome. But his mind was thousands of miles away, in DC with the ball-busting older sister he’d never had. She had to be absolutely reeling.

Elin kissed his neck. “We should go home.”

“Sam told Cameron to tell me not to come. She doesn’t want that.”

“She doesn’t want to interrupt our trip, but what do you want?”

They’d waited such a long time for this trip, had scrimped and saved to be able to afford it and were thoroughly enjoying it. He absolutely hated the idea of cutting short their time in Italy, but more than that, he hated the idea of Sam going through hell without him there to prop her up in any way that he could. And he’d truly loved and admired Skip Holland, who would be given a funeral to befit a hero. In the end, there was no decision to make.

“I need to be there.”

“I agree. I’ll call the airline and get us on the first possible flight home.”

“I’m so sorry about this, babe.”

She kissed his forehead. “Don’t be sorry. We can come back for our anniversary.”

“Maybe by our tenth we’ll be able to afford it again.”

“It’ll be something to look forward to. And you know what the good news is?”

“There’s good news?” He felt terribly sad over the loss of a great man and a tiny bit selfish at the same time.

“Uh-huh. The honeymoon doesn’t have to end just because we’re going home.”

“That’s very good news indeed.”

“I’m so sorry you lost your friend and that Sam lost her dad.”

He hugged her tightly, grateful for her strength and support. “Thank you.”

“Let me up, and I’ll see about getting us home.”



* * *



AS A LIFELONG devout Catholic, Joe Farnsworth never missed Sunday mass with his wife, Marti, who sang in the choir. He used the quiet hour of contemplation to reflect on the past week and to pray for the four thousand men and women who served under him in the Metropolitan Police Department. They had no idea he prayed for them, their safety and their families, who also sacrificed so much. They didn’t need to know that in addition to the obvious requests for their safety, he also asked the good Lord to keep his officers honest in all their dealings and to serve their city and its citizens with honor and distinction.

His prayers weren’t always answered, but he offered them anyway. In the last year, his department had suffered the tragic loss of Detective Arnold, a young officer who’d shown tremendous promise, and had seen several in their ranks cross lines that could never be uncrossed. He mourned for the losses of life and grieved over those who’d disappointed them all by stepping out of bounds. And mostly he prayed for the patience and fortitude to lead his department through turbulent times for law enforcement officers.

After mass, he waited in the back for Marti to join him for the walk home. She’d put a roast in the oven for their midday meal before they left. He enjoyed their routines and appreciated the weekends that passed without a crisis that brought him back to work.

As his lovely wife made her way toward him, surrounded by friends from the choir, he said a little prayer of thanks for her. Thirty-five years after they said “I do,” he was still crazy about her. She smiled brightly at the sight of him and damned if his heart didn’t give a little jolt of appreciation for the way she still looked at him.

Marti slipped her arm through his. “See you all at rehearsal on Tuesday.”

Cathy, another woman from the choir, gave him a good once-over, as she always did. It annoyed the hell out of Marti but only amused him. He had eyes only for the woman he’d had the good fortune to marry. There would never be anyone else for him. “Ladies.” Joe nodded to the others. “Have a good week.”