Fatal Reckoning (Fatal #14)(103)

“What happened then?”

“He said some stuff to me, which I ignored, and then he slapped me in the face and pulled my hair, hard, trying to get a reaction from me.”

“Did he get one?”

“I spit at him.”

“How did he react?”

“He punched me in the face. Then he tied me to the chair as tightly as he could. I also learned they’d set up my partner, Detective Cruz, by having someone mess with his girlfriend, so he’d be out of the picture when they took me hostage.”

Faith asked her a series of questions that revealed the next few hours of hell to the jury—Stahl’s unpacking of an arsenal of weapons, his argument with Marissa about who was in charge before he shot her in the gut, how he told Sam he hated her because she thought she was better than everyone else. He insulted her father and his relationship with the chief and generally ranted his hatred toward her as he wrapped her in razor wire.

The jurors, who’d withheld reactions up until then, gasped at that detail.

“What did you say to him as this was happening?”

“Nothing.” Faith had told her she wanted to get that detail into the record—that Sam hadn’t said a word to him during the prolonged attack.

“At all?”

“I didn’t say a single word to him the entire time.”

“Why?”

“Because it was bothering him that I refused to speak to him, so I stuck to my plan to stay quiet and let it unfold however it was going to.”

“What were you thinking about?”

Sam kept her gaze locked on Nick, who barely blinked the entire time she was testifying. “My husband, my son, the rest of my family. I focused on thoughts of them and that kept me focused.”

“Did you think you were going to die?”

“I was fairly certain I was going to, especially when he doused the area around my chair with gasoline. His intention was for me to burn alive, knowing that I’d be sliced by the razor wire if I so much as moved.”

More gasps from the jurors.

This was going well. Very, very well indeed. Nick’s small smile indicated that he thought so too. Even though it was hard for her to relive and harder for him to hear, they were in this together, like always. She just needed to get through this, and then she would be taking a few days to spend alone—or as alone as they ever were with the Secret Service underfoot—with him and the kids. She’d let Lilia know she wasn’t up for socializing after the week she’d had, and Lilia had promised to hold another dinner party with the same guests as soon as Sam felt up to attending.

“Did you find out more about Stahl’s actions while you were his hostage?”

“Yes, I learned from what Marissa said that Stahl had tipped the Springer family off that we were closing in on their son Billy as the perpetrator of the murders that had occurred in their basement, which had included their younger son, Hugo.” Sam’s niece Brooke had also been gang-raped that night. “After Stahl shot Marissa, when she asked him why he would do this to her when she’d been his friend, he said she’d outlived her usefulness.”

“Did he say anything else that indicated why he was attacking you?”

Sam nodded. “When Marissa continued to criticize him, he dumped gas on her too, and made sure to get it in her wound. He said, ‘I’m so fucking sick of women who think they should have an opinion. Shut your fucking mouths and do what you were put on this earth to do—spread your legs and breed.’ He also indicated that he’d given Lori Phillips, a known drug addict, cocaine in exchange for sex. He said, ‘Worst thing they ever did was let bitches into the police department. Ruined everything.’”

“Objection.”

“Your Honor,” Faith said, “Lieutenant Holland is quoting the official police report from the incident in which the defendant’s words were documented.”

“I’ll allow it.”

The defense attorney sat but was clearly pissed with the judge.

“How did the incident end?” Faith asked.

“He began lighting matches and teasing me that he was going to drop them on the gas he’d spread all over the place. He went through an entire box that way and was down to the last one when SWAT burst in through the windows and took him down.”

“Can you detail your injuries?”

“I was told my face was unrecognizable, and I had cuts all over my body, several that required stitches.”

“One final question, Lieutenant. Did you determine a motive for the defendant’s actions?”

“Other than satisfying his vendetta against me, we believe he was out to discredit the department and the people who ordered him arrested for leaking sensitive information during an investigation, among other things he held against them, such as their success while his career had stalled—no pun intended.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Nothing further.”

Now came the fun part, the cross-examination from Stahl’s attorney.

The man stood and gave her a steely look that had her stomach pinging with nerves.

“The defense has no questions for Lieutenant Holland.”

Shock zinged through her, quickly followed by relief so profound it made her light-headed. It was over.

She could walk out of there and never have to see that revolting bastard’s face again.