“I do what I can for the people,” she said, earning a scowl from her partner.
At the end of the hallway, Sam stopped to speak to the Patrol officer who had been chatting with Vernon while he waited for her. “CSU has finished at the Tappen home, and they’re cleared to return around four. Would you please see about transport for them?”
“Yes, ma’am. We’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks.” She pushed the down arrow, and when the elevator arrived, she got on with Freddie and Vernon. “This case sucks.”
“Don’t they all?” Freddie asked.
“Yeah, but this one is suckier than some.”
“What’s the sticking point?” Vernon asked.
“A well-liked wife and mother found murdered in her minivan after having been bound and gagged and left to either suffocate or freeze to death over a period of days, meaning whoever did this wanted her to suffer. Her sons play in an elite football league, and we’ve determined she was having an affair with the father of one of the other players, who was also a coach. Neither of their spouses had any idea about the affair—and we believe them—so who else would hate her enough to do what was done to her? And how can it not be related to the affair, which was the only thing in her life that was out of whack?”
“That’s the only thing you’ve found to be out of whack,” Vernon said. “Doesn’t mean there isn’t more.”
“That’s true,” Sam conceded. “It’s just that, by all accounts, she was a wonderful wife, mother, friend, businesswoman. She doesn’t seem like the type to have bodies buried all over town.”
“Maybe the affair with Ouellette wasn’t the first she’s had,” Freddie said.
“Ugh, that’s also possible.”
“What’s the plan?” Freddie asked.
“I want to talk to Paula again, and then we’ll call it a day.” To Vernon, she said, “Thanks for the input.”
“Anytime.”
Sam was punched in the gut by a wave of longing for her dad. Normally, she’d be asking for his input at this point in a confounding case. Even two months later, it still came as a shock to realize he was gone forever.
Outside, she thanked the bellman and Jimmy, who’d stayed with their cars.
“Merry Christmas to you and your family, ma’am,” the bellman said. “We hope you enjoy your holiday in the White House.”
“Thank you. Happy holidays.” There it was again, that punch to the gut that came with thinking about what it would be like to celebrate Christmas without her father. He’d absolutely loved Christmas and had been the best gift giver. She’d heard that the “first” of everything after a big loss was the worst, and that was probably true, but she already knew that nothing would ever be the same in her life without Skip Holland around to tell her how to live.
While she drove back to Paula’s home, she put through a call to her new friend Roni. If this holiday was going to be torturous for her, she couldn’t begin to imagine what it would be like for Roni after having lost her new husband when he was struck by a stray bullet on 12th Street in October.
The call went through to voice mail. “Hey, it’s Sam. I just wanted to call to let you know I’m thinking of you. Darren told me you’d checked in with him, and I wanted to assure you the job is yours whenever you’re ready. No rush, no deadline. Take care of yourself, Roni.”
She ended the call by slapping her phone closed.
“It’s nice of you to check on her.”
“I really like her.”
“Which makes her the rarest of unicorns, because you don’t like anyone.”
“I like more people than I used to. My other new friend is Gideon Lawson, the chief usher at the White House. He gets me, and he’s sarcastic.”
“Another unicorn. I’m looking forward to meeting him.”
“He’s cool. You’ll like him.”
“I can’t believe we’re spending Christmas Eve at the White House. It’s so surreal.”
“How do you think we feel? That’s why we wanted all you guys there with us, to make it feel less surreal.”