Fatal Reckoning (Fatal #14)(80)

“I know he thought the world of you both. He never got over losing Steven so suddenly. When we lost Detective Arnold earlier this year, his advice and counsel were so critical to me and the rest of my squad. He’d walked the walk, so he was such a huge help to us.”

“I love that he was still participating at that level, even after such an awful injury.”

“Because he was so sharp mentally, it made it easy to forget how precarious his physical condition really was.”

“Which made his death that much more shocking.”

“Right.”

“I’m so, so sorry for your loss. I know how close you were to him and how hard it has to be to go on without him.”

“It’s hard, but I’m doing what he’d want me to do by getting back to work and staying focused on my family and my job.”

“I can only imagine how proud of you he had to be.”

“He was proud of all of us and never tried to hide it. We were very lucky to have him.”

Alice stood to walk Sam out. “We all were, and I will hope and pray that you are able to finally get justice for him.”

At the front door, Sam gave Alice a quick hug. “Thank you for all your help.” She handed Alice a business card. “If you think of anything else that might be relevant, give me a call?”

“I will. For sure.”

“Thanks again.”

Thinking about everything she’d learned from her mother and Alice, Sam directed the car toward HQ. Halfway there, she took a call from Freddie. “What’s up?”

“Hill is going to interview Conklin. Thought you might want to observe.”

“You thought right. I’ll be there in ten. Any word on the search of Conklin’s house?”

“Only that it’s ongoing.”

“What about the dump of his phone?”

“Haven’t heard anything on that.”

“All right. I’ll see you soon.” She flipped the phone closed and focused on driving, darting between cars and changing lanes anytime she found an opening in the morning traffic jam. Her mind filtered through the details she’d been given by two women who’d had front-row views of the complex relationships between the various players who’d made up her father’s inner circle—on the job and off duty.

The bonds formed between police officers could be deep and sometimes closer than family. They could also be acrimonious and competitive while appearing cordial on the surface. Sam had experienced every sort of dynamic with her colleagues during her years on the job. Some were closer than family. Others had become mortal enemies. And still others entered her orbit as needed and then exited without leaving much of an impact. Sifting through the information she’d gathered that morning, she tried to figure out which category Conklin and her father had fallen into.

Had Conklin been secretly jealous of Skip’s promotion to deputy chief even while acting as his friend and supporter? It wouldn’t be the first time someone had been two-faced when a friend moved ahead in the ranks. Jealousy could undercut even the most solid of friendships, but had Conklin been jealous enough to orchestrate what amounted to the attempted murder of his rival? Sam found that possibility hard to believe, but then again, she’d never understand how the deputy chief could’ve sat on information pertinent to her father’s case for four years while pretending to be his close friend.

The jealousy motive seemed too simplistic, especially in light of their decades of personal friendship that had included Skip providing Conklin with a place to stay during a difficult time in the other man’s life. A rational person would deduce that Conklin would be eternally grateful to Skip for what he’d done for him then, which by all accounts had helped to ensure that Conklin’s promising career didn’t get derailed.

No matter how she looked at it, she couldn’t make sense of any scenario that would lead to Conklin either participating in or concealing evidence pertaining to her father’s shooting.

Sam parked outside the morgue entrance at HQ and ducked inside, ignoring the larger-than-usual scrum of reporters gathered outside the main doors. On the way past, she’d noticed a couple of reporters who were usually assigned to the White House. Why were they slumming at HQ? Was there really that much interest in the death of the second lady’s father? If so, it must be a slower-than-usual news week. Or maybe they were after more about Sam and Nick taking in the Armstrong children. Either way, they were going to leave disappointed. She had nothing to say about either of those things.

She navigated the hallways that led to the pit, which was buzzing with activity when she arrived. “What’s the latest, people?”

Cameron Green swiveled around in his chair to greet her. “We’re still going through Conklin’s files. Nothing new to report, but we’re making headway.”

Nothing new to report could have been the theme of her father’s investigation until lately, when they’d finally gotten a few breaks, even if no one liked where they’d led.

Sam nodded in acknowledgment of Green’s statement. “Can someone get me the files on the shooting of Officer Steven Coyne?”

McBride stood. “I’ll do it.”

“Thank you. What time is Hill talking to Conklin?”

“Thirty minutes,” Freddie said.

“Got it.” Sam unlocked her office, went inside and flipped on the lights, eyeing the huge stack of cards Malone had left for her. With some time to kill, she started opening the cards, most of them from people she’d never met but who’d had some sort of memorable encounter with Skip Holland during his time on the job.