Fatal Reckoning (Fatal #14)(45)
“I came to talk about your support group idea. I can’t stop thinking about it since you brought it up.”
“It’s been on my mind a lot too.”
“In my experience, whenever I get something in my head that won’t get out, that means it’s an idea I need to pursue.”
“I agree. Is it something we need to run up the flagpole before we go any further?”
“Probably, but I expect it’d be well received. But I was thinking…and tell me if this is way out of line…”
Intrigued, Sam said, “I’m listening.”
“What if we did it in conjunction with both your roles—as the lieutenant of the Homicide division and as second lady?”
She mulled that over. “I wouldn’t want to do something like this for the attention it would bring to me.”
“Understood, but I think it could help to shine the light on the fallout of violent crime, the people who’re left behind. It could also help to promote your efforts as second lady to support law enforcement. I don’t want to pressure you to do something you aren’t comfortable with. Think about it and let me know. In the meantime, I’ll run the idea up the flagpole, giving you full credit, of course.”
She waved that off. “I don’t care about the credit.”
“You deserve the credit for a brilliant idea. I can see this becoming a national effort to better support the victims we encounter on the job—and to better support the law enforcement officers, like Sergeant Gonzales and Detective McBride—who suffer in the aftermath of things they experienced on the job.”
Sam nodded. “Our culture encourages officers to keep their suffering to themselves or run the risk of encountering trouble on the job. That’s another thing I’d like to address through this group.”
“That stigma is something I spend a lot of time on a daily basis to overcome with the officers I work with. Anything we can do to bring attention to the very real traumas police officers face on the job would be beneficial.”
“I’ll talk to my team at the White House—and yes, it’s still weird to say that sentence.”
Trulo laughed. “I can’t imagine that sentence ever gets routine.”
“It won’t for me. That’s for sure. But I’ll get some opinions and let you know.”
“Let’s keep in touch about this—and the trial.”
At the reminder of Stahl’s upcoming trial, Sam sagged into her chair. “Don’t remind me.”
“You could ask Faith to request a continuance. The judge would take into consideration your recent loss.”
“I want to get it over with, so I never have to think about him again. The sooner the better.”
“Come see me if you need to before you testify.”
“I will. Thanks.” Not that long ago, she would’ve dodged him, made excuses, gone out of her way to avoid anything that smacked of headshrinking. However, having seen the benefit of therapy after Stahl attacked her, she was thankful to know Trulo was available if she needed help in weathering this next storm.
“Speaking of Stahl.” Sam checked her watch. “I have an appointment with Faith Miller in three minutes.”
Trulo stood. “I’ll let you get ready for that. I’ll be in touch.” He smiled and winked on his way out the door.
Sam shook her head in amusement. The doctor who’d once represented a formidable obstacle to returning to duty had become a trusted friend and colleague since he helped her find a way through the nightmare of being kidnapped, attacked and certain she was going to die at the hands of her former lieutenant. Stahl hated her for being Skip’s daughter, for being good at her job, for being well regarded by her fellow officers, and who knows what other reasons had twisted his mind to the point that he could wrap her in razor wire and threaten to set her on fire.
She shuddered thinking about that day and the absolute certainty that she would never see Nick, Scotty or her beloved family again.
A knock on the door had her looking up at Faith, who, like her identical triplet sisters, had soft brown hair, green eyes and a curvy figure. As always, she wore a sharp suit with her signature stiletto heels.
“Come in.”
Faith stepped into the office and closed the door.
Sam wanted to know what her team was doing in the conference room and what was happening with Conklin, but she had to endure this meeting before she could get back to what she should be doing.
“How’re you doing?”
“Just great.” Sam poured on the sarcasm. “I’ve been looking forward to this meeting for days.”
Faith laughed. “I’m sure. Sorry that we have to do it, but you know the drill by now.”
“All too well.”
Having their story straight and her testimony rock-solid would be critical to ensuring Stahl never saw the light of day again. She would do anything she could to make sure of that.
It took ninety minutes to go through the testimony step by step.
Sam recited the facts of the two times Stahl had attacked her from memories she would never forget. In some ways, testifying had never been simpler. She’d lived every second of it, done everything she could to survive and went through the details one after the other in response to Faith’s strategic questions.