Page 39 of State of Suspense

“I get it. Detective Cruz, please take Mr. Peterson downstairs.”

Freddie cuffed Aaron and escorted him out of the room.

Faith came out of observation.

“So,” Sam said. “What do I do about my husband’s AG being knee-deep in this?”

“That was going to be my first question.”

“This is way above my pay grade. I’m taking it to the chief.”

“Good call. Let me know what he has to say.”

“How’re you holding up, Faith?”

“I’m just… I’m in shock. You know what it’s like to lose a close colleague suddenly.”

“It’s a gut punch.” Sam recalled how the shocking loss of Detective Arnold had rocked her squad to its core, especially his partner, Gonzo.

“Yes, that’s it exactly.”

“What are you thinking for Peterson?”

“I’ll put in a word for him at sentencing, but that’s all I can really do since he’s facing first-degree murder charges.”

“Any word on who they’re bringing in?” Sam didn’t want to use the word replace in reference to Tom, and she hoped it wasn’t too soon to ask such a thing.

“Haven’t heard. I’ll let you know when I do.”

Sam gave her friend a spontaneous hug. “I’m here for you guys as a friend if there’s anything I can do.”

Faith returned the embrace. “Thank you. I’m glad you’re speaking at the funeral. Tom would love that.”

“You think so? I always suspected he thought of me as a headache more than anything.”

“That was only when you pushed one of your fellow officers down the stairs and Tom had to deal with it.”

“Ramsey totally deserved it.” The disgusting SVU detective had said Sam had gotten what she deserved after Stahl wrapped her in razor wire and threatened to set her on fire. She had zero regrets about pushing him down the stairs, even if she’d come perilously close to losing her career over it.

Faith pulled back, smiling. “Yes, he did, and Tom thought the world of you. We all do. We think it’s amazing you’re still pounding the pavement when you could be doing anything you wanted.”

“I’m doing what I want right here and trying to keep the other gig going at the same time.” She wrinkled her nose. “I have to host a tea for the Canadian prime minister’s wife tomorrow.”

Faith made a visible effort not to laugh.

“If you laugh, I’ll throat-punch you, grief or no grief.”

Despite Sam’s empty threat, Faith’s lips quivered from her effort to hold back. “Do you drink tea?”

“No! I have no clue what even goes on at a tea.”

“You’re about to find out.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Will there be pictures from the tea? Asking for a friend.”

“Have your fun. I’m off to talk to the chief about murder. That, I know. Tea? Not so much.” Sam left Faith laughing, which was a relief. These cases were tough enough when they didn’t involve devastated colleagues who were trying to do their jobs amid terrible grief.

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