Fatal Reckoning (Fatal #14)(57)
“And I’d certainly hope if you had it to do over again, you’d do exactly the same thing despite any heartburn it might cause us. As I’ve said repeatedly—our heartburn is nothing compared to their heartache.”
“I love you so much, Nick. All the time, but the way you’ve gone to bat for two kids who aren’t yours makes me love you even more than I already did.”
“Same goes, babe. I love the way you saw them and had to help. I’ll never regret stepping up for them.”
“Even if there’s a massive shitstorm?”
“Even then. Especially then.” He kissed her again. “Let’s get the hell out of here and go home to our family.”
* * *
HOURS LATER, AFTER spending quality time with the kids, which included lasagna for dinner and a competitive game of Candy Land that Scotty had won, baths, bedtime stories and a few tears from two little ones, who were still missing their beloved parents, Sam curled up to Nick in bed, exhausted and drained.
He caressed her arm as she breathed in the familiar scent of him, the scent of home. “I used to dream about having what we do now,” he said. “A family to call my own. There’s nothing else quite like it.”
“No, there really isn’t. I just worry about what’ll happen when Elijah finishes school.”
“You want my prediction?”
Sam eyed him with surprise. “You have one?”
“Babe, you know me. I’m always thinking ten steps ahead, and my guess is by the time he graduates, the kids will be so settled with us, he wouldn’t dream of disrupting them. And besides, he’s going to be a twenty-two-year-old recent college grad. What’s he going to do with two seven-year-olds?”
“Don’t forget that recent college grad will have billions at his disposal. He could pay for whatever help he needs.”
“Granted, but he won’t want to disrupt them—again. They’re not going anywhere, Samantha. If we want them, and I think we both agree that we do, they’ll be with us until they leave home.”
“I’m afraid to hope for that, only to be disappointed when he comes to collect them. What if he does want them when he graduates? Maybe we should talk to him about that at some point.”
He sighed. “Probably.”
“So how big of a shitstorm are we looking at over the Secret Service issue?”
“Trevor just texted that he had thirty inquiries about it today alone,” Nick said, referring to his communications director.
“Damn it.”
“Don’t worry about. We’ll handle it, and it’ll blow over like everything always does.”
“I thought the outpouring of sympathy for the loss of my dad would last a little longer than it did.”
“I’m sorry if something to do with my job is cutting short the mourning for him. You know I’d never want that.”
“It’s okay.”
“I’m sorry you’re sad tonight.”
“For people I don’t even know.”
“It’s a very sad thing.”
“Yeah, for sure.” As she wallowed in the loving embrace of her beloved husband, Sam thought of Roni and ached for her.
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING, Joe Farnsworth arrived ten minutes early for his eight o’clock appointment with Tom Forrester. The admin offered him coffee, which Joe gratefully accepted. He’d had another sleepless night as his mind raced with the potential implications of what he’d come to discuss with Forrester.
If he allowed himself to delve too deeply into the why or how of Conklin’s actions, he would lose his mind. That his closest aid and longtime friend could’ve kept something like this out of the official reporting of Skip’s shooting and then continued to hide it for four years… The job of chief often overwhelmed him, but few things had ever hit him as hard as this had.
Forrester came rolling in with several aides in tow. “Hey, Joe,” he said in a thick New York accent. “Come on in.”
Joe followed Forrester and the others into the office.
“Have a seat.” Tall and confident, Forrester had silver hair and sharp blue eyes. He was among the more competent U.S. Attorneys Joe had worked with in his long career. “What can I do for you, Chief?”
Joe eyed the young, hungry aides who were probably recent law school graduates on their way up the ladder. “I need to speak to you in private.”
Forrester cast a glance at the others, and they got up to leave the room.
“What’s going on?”
“I’m not entirely sure.” Joe told the USA about what they’d uncovered during a new look at Skip’s case.
Seeming shocked, Forrester sat back in his chair. “This guy Davis, he’s credible?”
“By all accounts, a stand-up sort of guy. He’s called Conklin every year on the anniversary of the shooting.” Joe laid the highlighted pages on the desk, showing the calls to Conklin’s line.
“What would Conklin stand to gain by keeping this quiet?”
“I have no idea. I’ve spent two sleepless nights wondering that myself.”
“Do you think he knows who shot Skip?”
“I don’t know that either. He claims he was nowhere near the scene of the shooting that day. Davis says otherwise.”