Fatal Chaos

“We weren’t sure if you wanted us to take care of that or if you wanted to do it yourself,” Freddie said.

Sam’s gaze landed on the postmortem photo of Peter’s bruised and battered face. He’d been tortured by Christopher Nelson’s henchman in an effort to gain information about Sam and Nick that could be used to discredit them. It still amazed her that despite their tumultuous history, Peter had tried to protect her in the end. That was the least of what he’d owed her, but it surprised her nonetheless.

“You guys can take it apart tomorrow. We don’t need it anymore.”

“Will do.” He went to a second dry-erase board and wrote Jamal Jackson, 15 across the top in red ink. Then he pinned a photo of Jamal to the left side of the board.

“Where’d you get that?” Sam asked, taking in the smiling face of the boy who’d been murdered.

“Off his Instagram account.”

Next to that, Freddie pinned a photo of Jamal taken from the crime scene and made notes about the time of death and the information Vincent and Corey had given them about the shooting. Then he drew a line from Jamal to a listing of his mother and sisters’ names.

“You can add that he was shot with a nine-millimeter weapon,” Sam said. “Lindsey is sending the bullet out for analysis.”

Freddie made a note of the bullet information. “What else?”

“That’s all we’ve got for now.”

“Where do you want to start?”

“While every instinct I have tells me this was random, we have to make sure of that. So we dig into his life, the friends’ lives, the mother’s life, the sisters’ lives.”

“Why the mother and sisters?”

“If someone had a beef with one of them, taking out Jamal could be retribution. Nothing would surprise me.”

“It’s a thread,” Freddie conceded.

“We’ll start with the people closest to him and work our way out.” She checked her watch and saw that it was after nine o’clock. “I don’t think we should go to the Jacksons’ house tonight. The morning will be soon enough.”

“Agreed.”

Sam was about to suggest they call it a night when Gonzo came into the conference room wearing a grim expression.

“We’ve got another fatal drive-by.”

CHAPTER FIVE

ACCOMPANIED BY FREDDIE and Gonzo, Sam drove to the Eckington neighborhood in the city’s Northwest quadrant. Bordered by Rhode Island Avenue, Metropolitan Branch Trail, Florida Avenue and North Capitol Street, Eckington was an up-and-coming area known for the colorful townhouses featured in the House of Cards television show opening.

“I love this neighborhood,” Freddie said.

“Nick and I used to come up here to the Big Bear Café when we were allowed to actually go places,” Sam said. “Those were the good old days.”

“Take a right on Quincy,” Gonzo said.

Sam did as directed and pulled into the first available space she found on yet another street lined with emergency vehicles. “I hope it’s not a kid.”

“Me too,” Freddie said.

The three of them approached the yellow tapeline where Beckett once again met them. He held up the tape to let them under.

“What’ve we got?” Sam asked.

“Melody Kramer, aged thirty-one. We found a government ID on her that indicates she works at the Department of the Interior, and her license shows she lives two blocks down on Quincy.”

Beckett’s partner lifted the tarp to reveal a pretty blonde who’d been struck in the chest, possibly directly in the heart judging by the blood that had formed a huge puddle under her.

Sam was about to ask if there were witnesses when a shout from behind them had her turning to see a handsome dark-haired man running toward them, looking frantic.

“What happened? Is that Mel? Let me through!”

Sam nodded to Beckett, who raised the yellow tape to let the man pass. She stopped him from proceeding with her hand to his chest. “Sir, please. Don’t go any farther.”

“I have to know...” His voice broke on the last word. “Is that my wife?”

“What’s your wife’s name?”

“Melody Kramer. She walks down this street every night on her way home from the Metro. She texted that she was on her way, so I came to meet her, and I saw the emergency vehicles.” He rubbed at the stubble on his face. “Please tell me that’s not her. Please.”

“I’m sorry to have to tell you that the victim is your wife.”

His anguished wail sent chills down her spine. “No, no, no. Please not Mel. Not Mel.” When his legs would’ve buckled under him, Freddie grabbed him and kept him from falling. He clung to Freddie as he broke down into sobs.

Sam helped escort the man to a nearby stoop where they eased him onto a stair.

He dropped his head into his hands.

“What’s your name?” Sam asked.

“Joe Kramer,” he said, his voice muffled by the hands that covered his face.

“We’re so sorry for your loss, Joe.” Sam felt like an impotent asshole. What good would her words of sympathy do him when he’d lost the love of his life? She tried to imagine how she would feel if someone gunned down her husband. No. Just no. She couldn’t bear to entertain the thought.

“She’s pregnant,” he said softly, his head still down. “We just found out three days ago. She was so happy. How could this have happened?”

Sam’s heart broke for him—and his wife. She glanced at Freddie and saw him battling his emotions. Sometimes this job sucked so bad. Well, most of the time it sucked. “Do you have other children?”

Shaking his head, he said, “This was our first. We’ve been trying for a long time.” He looked up at them, devastation etched into his face as it seemed to register with him that he’d lost two loved ones today. “Who would’ve done this to her?”

“We don’t know, but we’re going to find out.”

His shoulders sagged when he seemed to realize that even if they caught the perp it wouldn’t change anything for him. His wife would still be dead.

“Is there someone we can call for you?” Freddie asked.

Joe released a deep breath and wiped tears off his face. “My sister lives in Georgetown. I...I just talked to her an hour ago and told her she’s going to be an aunt.” He broke down again. “I can’t believe this has happened.”

“If you give me your sister’s number, I’ll call her for you,” Freddie said.

Sam was never more thankful to have him as her partner than in situations such as this, which required the gentle touch that came so naturally to him.

“Her name is Sarah.” Joe retrieved his phone, found his sister’s number and handed it to Freddie, who placed the call. He walked a short distance away so Joe wouldn’t have to hear him deliver the dreadful news to his sister.

“What do I do now?” Joe asked, looking up at Sam. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You could help by telling me where she was coming from.”

“She went out for happy hour with some of her colleagues. She joked this morning about how happy hour wouldn’t be quite so happy because she couldn’t drink for nine months. But it was her friend’s birthday, so she wanted to go for a little while. I told her I’d make dinner.” He shook his head in disbelief. “If she hadn’t gone out after work, this wouldn’t have happened.” Tears filled his eyes and spilled down his cheeks. “She would’ve been home two hours ago. She would’ve been safe.”

Sam suspected that twist of fate would haunt him for the rest of his life. She placed a hand on his shoulder, wishing there was more she could do to comfort him.

Freddie walked over to them, his expression bleak, indicating the phone call had been as dreadful as expected. “Your sister is on her way. She’ll be here in a few minutes.”

“She must be freaking out. They’re very close. They were... Very close.”

“She’s extremely upset. Her husband is coming with her.”

Joe nodded in acknowledgment and stared off into space.

Sam waved one of the EMTs over. “Have a look at him, will you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Stay with him until the sister gets here,” Sam said to Freddie.

“Will do.”

She walked over to meet Lindsey and Byron.

“Here we go again,” Lindsey said grimly. “What’ve we got?”

“A thirty-one-year-old named Melody Kramer who found out three days ago she was pregnant with her first child.”

“Damn it,” Lindsey said. “What the hell is going on tonight?”

“I don’t know, but we might be looking at the same perp for both shootings.” To Beckett, Sam said, “Any witnesses?”

“A young couple was also on the street when the shooting happened,” Beckett said. “We’ve asked them to wait to speak to you over there.” He pointed to a house across the street where the couple waited with another Patrol officer.

She crossed the street and nodded to the patrolman. To the couple, she extended her hand. “I’m Lieutenant Holland, MPD.”

“Yes, we know.” The woman blushed as she shook Sam’s hand. “I admire you so much.”

“Thank you. What’s your name?”

“Kelsey. This is my boyfriend, Charlie.” Petite with brown hair tinted pink on the ends, she had big brown eyes and mascara streaked from tears. Charlie had to be a foot taller than her, with longish dark hair and a complexion gone pale with shock. They were in their early twenties, or so Sam guessed.

Sam shook Charlie’s proffered hand. “Can you tell me what you saw?”

Kelsey took a deep breath. “We were about a block behind the lady who was shot when this car came flying down the street. It scared the hell out of us. Charlie grabbed me and pulled me in from the edge. There was a really loud boom, and the lady in front of us just went down. By the time we realized what’d happened, the car was long gone.”

“Did either of you get a look at the car?”

“It happened so fast,” Charlie said.

“Which end of the street did it come from?” Sam asked.

Kelsey pointed to the right side. “There.”

“And you were walking toward that intersection?”

They both nodded.

“If there’s anything at all you can tell me about the car, that would be incredibly helpful. Do either of you recall whether it was a sedan or a pickup or an SUV?”

“It was a car,” Kelsey said, seeming quite certain.

“Any idea what color it was?” Sam asked.

“It’s hard to say because the street was dark when it happened,” Charlie said, “but I think it was a dark color, like black or dark blue, maybe.”

“That helps. Thank you.” She gave them each a copy of her business card. “If you think of anything else, even the smallest detail, call me. We never know what’ll blow open a case like this.”

“We will.” A tremble went through Kelsey’s body, making her wobbly.

Charlie put his arm around her. “If that lady hadn’t been there, they might’ve shot at us.”

Kelsey broke down into tears. “It’s so awful.”

“Yes, it is.” They would probably suffer from the trauma for a long time. “Do either of you require medical attention?”

“No,” she said haltingly, looking up at Charlie. “I don’t think so.”

“We’re okay,” he said.

“You may want to consider some sort of counseling to deal with what you saw,” Sam said.

“We’ll think about that,” Kelsey said. “Thank you.”

“You gave the patrolmen your contact info?”

Kelsey nodded. “They said we should go to MPD Headquarters in the morning to make an official statement.”

“Yes, please. We need that on file.”

“We’ll do it first thing,” Charlie said. “Anything we can do to catch whoever did this.”

“Appreciate it,” Sam said. “The Patrol officer can give you a ride home.”

“We live close by,” Kelsey said. “We’re okay to walk.”

“I’d feel better if you’d let him take you. I also have to caution you that you’re material witnesses to a homicide. You’ll need to be very careful until we catch the son of a bitch who’s picking people off in our city.”

Charlie’s complexion became even paler. “This isn’t the only one?”

“Second one tonight,” Sam said.

Charlie glanced at Kelsey. “We... We’ll take the ride.”

Sam signaled to Beckett’s partner and asked him to drive them home. “Make sure you see them inside.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Sam crossed the street to return to the scene of Joe Kramer’s nightmare in time to see his distraught sister emerge from a cab and run to him. He stood to meet her and caught her in a hug, both crying hysterically. The woman’s husband followed, putting his arms around them.

“Goddamn, this blows,” Sam said to Freddie, who nodded in agreement. That he didn’t chastise her for using the Lord’s name in vain said a lot about how deeply the family’s grief had affected him.

“Malone called me when he couldn’t get through to you,” Freddie said. “HQ is looking for an update. I told him we might have two instances of the same shooter randomly picking people off on side streets. He wants us to brief the brass as soon as we can.”

“First we need to update the APB to let everyone know we have a second shooting. Let’s get every Patrol officer in the city looking for these assholes.”

“On it.”

While he took care of that, Sam went to see if there was anything else they could do for Joe Kramer and his family.

“C-could we see her?” he asked when she offered the department’s assistance.

“I think it might be better if you wait until we get her back to HQ.”

She watched him process what she wasn’t saying and could almost see him deciding whether to argue the point. But then he sagged with resignation.

“Okay. Whatever you think is best.”

“Could I get your address and contact info?”

“Yeah.” He rattled off his address and phone number, which she recorded in her notebook.

“I’ll be in touch with you as soon as we know anything more, and I’ll ask the Medical Examiner to let you know when Melody will be released to the funeral home of your choice.”

At the mention of funeral homes, his sister buried her face in his chest, her shoulders shaking with sobs. Her poor husband stood beside them, seeming unsure of what he should do.

Sam wanted to tell him there was nothing he could do other than be there for them, but she held her tongue. They would figure it out the same way everyone else did when their lives were permanently altered by violence. She handed Joe her business card. “If I can do anything for you, day or night, my cell number is on the card. Feel free to use it.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“Officer Beckett will see you home.” She signaled to Beckett. “Please make sure Mr. Kramer and his family get home safely.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Before he left with Beckett, Joe took a long last look back at the cloth-covered body of his wife, his despair palpable. Only when his sister tugged on his arm, urging him to move, did he finally tear his gaze off his wife and begin to put one foot in front of the other toward a suddenly uncertain future.

Undone by his grief, Sam bent at the waist, hands on her knees as she focused on trying to breathe. She appreciated that Freddie didn’t ask if she was okay or if he could do anything. Rather, he stood close by and let her do what she needed to.

After she’d gotten herself together, she stood to her full height and looked at Freddie. “Let’s find these motherfuckers.”

CHAPTER SIX

THEY RETURNED TO HQ, where Captain Malone met them in the lobby. “I came in when I heard about the second shooting. The chief is here too. Come tell us what you’ve got.”

To Freddie, Sam said, “Go see if Archie was able to get anything from the video feeds from the Kramer shooting.”

“Will do.”

Sam went with Malone past the Dispatch area to the chief’s office where Joe Farnsworth, known affectionately to Sam and her sisters as “Uncle Joe” when they were growing up, nodded to her. He was one of her father’s closest friends and one of Sam’s greatest supporters.

The chief was on a testy-sounding phone call. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “I understand. We feel the same way. Believe me.” He held the phone away from his ear, and Sam could hear the woman talking on the other end but not what she was saying. “Of course I’ll keep you posted. Lieutenant Holland is here now, back from the scene of both shootings.” Another pause. “Yes, we’ll brief the media and let people know what’s happened. We’re doing everything we always do when there’s a homicide in our city.”

After another full minute of listening, he managed to extricate himself from the phone call. “She drives me crazy.”

“I assume that’s our esteemed mayor,” Malone said.

“You assume correctly.” To Sam, Farnsworth said, “Welcome back. I hope you had a nice vacation.”

“We did.”

“Glad to hear it. What’ve we got on the drive-bys?”

Sam filled him in on the details of both shootings.

“Ugh, a kid and a pregnant woman.” Farnsworth sagged into his chair. “What’s your gut telling you, Lieutenant?”

“That we’re looking at random thrill kills, but we’ll dig into the vics to make sure.”

Farnsworth nodded in agreement with her plan. “I hate stuff like this. Hell, I hate all of it.”

“It does keep us in business,” Sam said, going for a moment of levity.

“There is that,” Farnsworth said with a small smile. “How’s your husband doing?”

“He’s great. Never been better.”

“I believe there’s a certain level of denial going on in the Cappuano household,” Malone said to Farnsworth.

“It goes something like this,” Sam said, placing her hands over her ears. “Lalalalalala.”

“Can you picture her as first lady?” Malone asked.

“Not even kinda,” Farnsworth said, “but then again, I couldn’t picture her as second lady either.”

“It’s the whole ‘lady’ part that gets me every time,” Malone said, rubbing his chin as he studied her.

“Very funny, boys,” Sam said, amused by their banter. “How about you spare me the agony of dealing with the media and handle the briefing for me?”

“You know they enjoy it so much more when it’s you, Lieutenant,” Malone said. “Besides, you were at the scene and have the firsthand information.”

“Fine, whatever. I’ll do it.”

“I’ll go out with you and take over if it strays into political territory,” Farnsworth said.

“Which it most definitely will,” Sam said. “They’re rabid for info about how we’re dealing with the Nelson fiasco.”

“Have you considered giving them a little something to feed the beast and get them off your backs?” Farnsworth asked.

“We would if we thought a little something would be enough for them,” Sam said. “We’ve decided to stay out of it for now.”

“I can understand that. It’s a tough situation no matter what you do.”

“Which is why we’re doing nothing but riding it out the best way we can until we know what’s going to happen. Let’s get this media briefing done so I can do some real work.”

“I hate to point out that briefing the media counts as real work,” Malone said.

“In my world, it counts as torture,” Sam said.

Farnsworth and Malone came with her as she walked out the main doors to where the usual swarm of reporters had multiplied in the twenty minutes she’d been inside. Word must’ve gotten out that she was back on the job. Awesome.

The reporters began shouting at her the minute she walked out the door. While that wasn’t an unusual occurrence, there was something about the way they came at her this time that caught her off guard. Nick was right. They were ravenous, and she was going to send them away still hungry.

She approached the granite podium that was a permanent installation outside headquarters, never more grateful for the aura of protection it provided than she was now. They continued to scream questions at her about Nick and Nelson and Nelson’s son and whether she was prepared to be first lady and if he was excited to be president and what would they do about Scotty and...

Malone put his fingers in his mouth and blew out a sharp whistle that startled Sam and shut down the screaming. “If you’ll please hold your questions, the Lieutenant will brief you on the drive-by shootings that took place tonight. She will not answer questions about the vice president or anything related to him. Am I clear?”

The assembled crowd muttered among themselves, clearly displeased with the captain’s directive.

“You and your husband have to say something about what’s going on,” one of the bottle blondes from TV said. “People have a right to know that their vice president—and his wife—are prepared to step up if need be.”

Sam wanted to punch her in the face. Of course they were prepared to step up if need be and had been since the day he took the job. That didn’t mean they wanted to.

“Take those questions to the vice president’s office,” Malone said. “Lieutenant Holland will speak only to questions about the shootings. Lieutenant?”

Sam stepped up to the microphone and went through the same recitation of facts she’d given to the chief and captain. “We believe we’re looking for a black sedan with at least two people in it. We caution city residents to be aware of their surroundings when walking on side streets after dark. Anyone who has information about the possible shooter and his or her accomplices should contact MPD. Do not attempt to approach these people on your own. They are armed and extremely dangerous.”

“Is there any indication the two shootings are related?” Darren Tabor asked.

“Witnesses at both scenes reported seeing a dark-colored sedan traveling at a rapid rate of speed. We’ll be looking into any possible connections between the victims as we begin our investigation. That’s all for now. I’ll be back to you when we have more.”

As she walked away from the podium, they began screaming their questions about Nick and Nelson again. They were nothing if not predictable. It wasn’t lost on her that the more intense Nick’s job got, the harder it became to do hers, though she’d never add to his already-formidable burden by sharing that thought with him.

“Keep us posted of any developments,” Malone said when they were inside.

“On all fronts,” Farnsworth said meaningfully.

“Will do.”

Sam was about to leave them to head for the pit when Freddie and Gonzo approached them.

“We’ve got another one,” Freddie said grimly.

* * *

AS SAM DROVE Freddie and Gonzo to Georgetown, they listened to the increasingly frantic chatter on the radio. According to reports from Patrol, the victim was a Georgetown University graduate student who’d been out dancing with his wife and had made the mistake of walking home.

Right after two a.m., they pulled onto P Street Northwest to a scene becoming all too familiar. Emergency vehicles lined the street, and the victim’s covered body had been isolated from the crowd of onlookers by yellow crime scene tape. EMTs tended to a woman who Sam assumed was the victim’s wife.

Fatigue began to tug at the edges of Sam’s consciousness, reminding her that she’d been up since dawn the day before when Nick talked her into taking a last walk on the beach to watch the sunrise before they headed home.

Twenty hours later, her tank was running on empty. She shook off the weariness to give this latest victim her full focus.

Patrolman O’Brien worked the tapeline and nodded to her as she approached. Because O’Brien worked third shift now, she didn’t see much of him around the house.

“Good to see you, Patrolman.”

“Likewise, Lieutenant. Wish it was under better circumstances.”

“Who’s our vic?”

“Sridhar Kapoor, thirty-five. I looked him up on social media and found out he’s originally from India and was a doctoral student in chemistry at Georgetown. His wife, Rayna, is also a grad student, in global infectious diseases. I wasn’t able to get much from her, except they’d been out with friends and decided to walk home. He was shot in the head from behind. The wife didn’t see the car because the shot propelled him forward, and he took her down with him. By the time she figured out what’d happened, the car was long gone.”