Fatal Identity (32 page)

I'll see what I can do, babe. Would love to be there.

A soft knock on the door had her spinning around. “What?”

The door opened and Avery Hill stood there, his face ashen with shock and disgust. “I don't even know what to say.”

“There's nothing to be said other than case closed.”

“What about Dustin?”

“What about him? We've got more than enough to charge him with two counts of kidnapping, murder for hire, assaulting a police officer. The list goes on and on.”

“So we don't need to talk to him?”

“Sam's right,” Hope said when she joined them, looking pale after what she'd heard. “We've got enough to charge them both.” Of the three identical triplets who served the District as Assistant U.S. Attorneys, Hope was the only one who was a mother, which had probably made Courtney's sordid tale that much more difficult to hear.

“If no one objects,” Avery said, “I'd like the supreme pleasure of telling Dustin Jacoby that he's totally fucked.”

“I'm all for that,” Sam said.

The others nodded in agreement.

“Someone will need to brief the media,” the chief said. “I think they're giving birth to each other outside.”

“I'll do it,” Sam said, salivating at the thought of shredding the vaunted reputations of Hamilton and Jacoby, “and then I'm going to the hospital to be there when Taylor sees his parents for the first time in thirty years.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

S
AM
WENT
WITH
Avery to speak to Jacoby, who was pacing the interrogation room when they walked in. He seemed startled to see Avery.

“What're you doing here?” Jacoby asked, his dark eyes narrowing with displeasure.

“I volunteered to be the one to tell you that you're being charged with murder, two counts of kidnapping and felony assault of a police officer, among other things. In other words, you're totally and completely fucked.”

“Mr. Jacoby is willing to cooperate with your investigation in exchange for leniency,” his lawyer said.

“Thanks,” Avery said, “but we're good. Courtney Hamilton told us everything we needed to know to put the pieces together.”

“And you're going to believe her over your own deputy director?” Jacoby said with a malicious smirk that Sam wanted to smack off his smug face.

“You bet your goddamned kidnapping, murdering ass I am.”

“You obviously don't care too much about your career, Agent Hill.”

Hill stepped around the table to face off with Jacoby directly. “Are you still under the illusion that you have any power over me, my career or anything having to do with the Federal Bureau of Investigation? You and Hamilton are a disgrace to everything we stand for as federal agents, and I plan to enjoy every second of your downfall, which will begin when Lieutenant Holland briefs the media in five minutes. She'll be sharing the security video we have from Hamilton's house that shows you wielding the golf club that ended his life.”

Sam waved to Jacoby, who stared daggers at her, giving her no doubt that he was more than capable of everything he was being accused of.

“Mr. Jacoby should be given the right to tell his side of the story,” the lawyer said.

“He'll have his day in court,” Avery said. “After which I'll look forward to seeing you rot in prison for the rest of your life.”

“Me too,” Sam said. “Looking forward to that tremendously, but now I need to get out of here because the media is waiting and the baby you stole thirty years ago is about to be reunited with his real parents. We've got far more important things to do with our time than spend it with the likes of you. Are you coming, Agent Hill?”

“Yeah,” he said, glaring at Jacoby, “I'm finished here.”

Sam preceded him out of the room. “You okay?”

“I've been better.”

“You were great in there. I enjoyed that very much.”

The compliment earned her the hint of a smile from Avery.

She handed him a piece of paper.

“What's this?”

“A check for what I owe you for the Knoxville trip.”

“Oh. Okay.” He stashed it in his back pocket. “Thanks.”

“Listen, Avery... So Nick told me you guys talked on the flight home, and I just wanted to say that I'm sorry if he made you feel uncomfortable or—”

“It was fine, Sam. He said some things I needed to hear and reminded me of how lucky I am to have a woman like Shelby who wants to marry me. It's all good.”

“I'm glad to hear that,” she said, sighing with relief. “It'll save me the bother of stabbing him in his sleep.”

Laughing, Avery shook his head. “He sure is a lucky guy.”

“I know. I tell him that every day. Now, what do you say we go make the day of all the reporters who're waiting for the dirty details of this case?”

“I say lead the way.”

* * *

T
HE
REUNION
OF
Taylor Rollings and his parents was everything Sam had hoped it would be for them and far more emotional for her than she'd expected. They'd been thrilled to meet her and Nick, who'd rearranged his schedule to be there for her as much as the Rollings family.

He stood now with his arm around her shoulders watching Chauncey and Micki Rollings talk to their son like he was an old friend rather than the son they'd given birth to and then lost two days later almost thirty years ago. Micki continued to dab at her eyes more than an hour after they arrived. She said she'd probably be crying tears of gratitude for the rest of her life now that her beloved son had been found.

For his part, Josh, who'd asked to be called Taylor going forward, took it all in, beaming with pleasure from the attention and unconditional love he felt from Chauncey and Micki as well as their other children, Sue, Will, Michael and Chauncey Junior. Taylor had been their third child, after Sue and Will and before Michael. He closely resembled his brothers, who'd been consulted by the artist who worked on the age-progression photo of Taylor.

“Here I always thought I was the baby of the family, and I'm a middle child,” he said, soaking it all in.

Before the Rollings family had arrived, Sam and Avery had briefed Taylor on the outcome of the investigation and answered his many questions about the role his “parents” and Jacoby had played. He'd been stunned but resigned to move forward and not dwell on the past.

The bruises on his face weren't quite as angry as they'd been yesterday, and the swelling around his eye had abated somewhat. Micki didn't seem to care about his bruises. She couldn't stop touching his hand, his face, his hair, as if to confirm he was real. Every so often she would stop herself and offer a chagrined smile. “I'm sorry. I can't help myself.”

“It's okay,” Taylor said. “I understand.”

Sam began to feel as if they were intruding. “We're going to go,” she said to Watson, who wore a euphoric expression that Sam suspected was rare for him.

He shook her hand and then Nick's. “It was an honor to meet you both. Thank you for everything.”

Micki and Chauncey hugged her. “We'll never have the words to properly thank you for what you've done,” Micki said.

“All the credit goes to your son,” Sam said. “He's the one who sounded the alarm, and he's the reason your prayers were answered.”

Micki's eyes lit up with joy as she looked at him. “I'm so excited to get to know him. We have so much time to make up. I have thirty years of Christmas and birthday gifts for him.” She wiped away tears. “I'm sorry. I'm a mess today.”

“With very good reason.” Nick made Micki sigh when he kissed her cheek. “Enjoy every moment with him and your family.”

He held the door for Sam and followed her out to the hallway where his detail waited for them. Nick put his arm around her to draw her in close to him. “Thanks for asking me to come,” he said in a soft tone that only she could hear. “I'll never forget that.”

“Sometimes this job doesn't totally suck.”

“Most of the time it does.”

Sam laughed at his emphatic reply. “Yeah, but today it didn't suck. Today was a very good day.”

* * *

S
AM
PRACTICED
THE
speech at least a hundred times. Maybe two hundred times. Nick had listened to it and coached her on delivery and pausing for impact and other tricks he'd learned on the campaign trail. Scotty listened and offered suggestions. Even Shelby, Skip and Celia had weighed in. Over the last couple of days, if Sam hadn't been dealing with the paperwork and the press in the wake of the Hamilton case, she'd been practicing her speech.

In the end, it was a good thing she'd done all that practicing because when the big moment came and she stood at the podium with two thousand sets of eyes watching her expectantly, her dyslexia kicked in, making the words on the teleprompter scramble in an unreadable pattern.

As she broke out in a cold sweat, she forced a smile and shook her head at the irony. “I'm here to talk about my infertility challenges and guess what? My dyslexia has decided today would be a great day to rear its ugly head.” A soft wave of nervous laughter greeted the comment. She leaned forward on her elbows, determined not to embarrass herself or Nick, who was in the audience somewhere. She hadn't wanted to know where, so she wouldn't lose her concentration.

“Since I can't read the teleprompter, I guess I'll have to wing it. It's my story, and I know it by heart, but my wonderful White House staff wrote a beautiful speech that I'll make sure is released so you can see what I was supposed to say today.” The audience laughed again, and she relaxed ever so slightly when she realized they were friendly and rooting for her to succeed, not hoping she'd fall flat on her face.

Sam tried to pretend she was talking to a group of old friends as she started at the beginning, with the unexpected pregnancy in college and took them through her infertility journey, culminating with the miscarriage she and Nick had suffered last year. As always when she got to that part, her chest tightened and tears threatened. But she battled through to the finish, to the most important part about how she and Nick wanted to make a difference for people struggling with infertility and other issues that mattered to them.

“Nick and I want you to know we understand the challenges those suffering from infertility grapple with on a daily basis. We want to help, and if hearing my story makes even one of you feel less alone with these challenges, I'll be satisfied. Thank you for your time and attention, and when you read the speech I was supposed to give, you'll see just how brilliant my staff really is. Thank you for having me.”

Sam couldn't believe her eyes when every one of those two thousand people stood to clap. The roar of applause was nearly deafening and totally overwhelming. And when Nick walked onto the stage carrying a bouquet of red roses, the crowd truly went wild. Sam had never been so happy to see him.

Smiling, he kissed her cheek. “You were amazing, babe.”

Though she had two thousand people applauding her, his praise trumped a standing ovation any day.

They stood together for another couple of minutes, smiling and waving to the crowd, before he guided her off the stage, with his hand on her back.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she said when they were offstage.

“I hope it was okay to join in your thunder.”

“My thunder is your thunder.”

“Is that a come-on?”

Sam laughed and went up on tiptoes to kiss him. “Thank God that's over.”

“I almost died when you mentioned the dyslexia. Way to punt.”

“You couldn't tell I was sweating?”

“Nope. You were calm, cool, collected, funny, touching, poignant and incredibly sexy. They loved you, and I do too.”

“I'm really glad you were able to be here while I lost my public-speaking virginity.”

“I won't always be able to come, but I wouldn't have missed this one. Not only because it was your first time, but because of the topic.”

“Yeah, it's a tough one.”

“I'm so damned proud of you, Samantha.” He kissed her forehead and then put his arms around her. “You'll never know how many people you touched today by sharing a piece of yourself with the rest of the world.”

“Feels good to be able to help people. Maybe your job won't totally suck if we can do stuff like this once in a while.”

“No, it totally sucks. Not as bad as yours, but it definitely sucks.” They were still laughing when Sam's staff found them.

“You were
amazing
!” Lilia said, grinning widely.

“I'm already getting emails from other organizations who want you to speak to them,” Andrea said, holding up her phone.

Grimacing, Sam looked up at Nick, who beamed with pride.
“Great...”

“Welcome to the big time, babe.”

* * *

S
AM
SPENT
THE
rest of the day finishing the reports on the Hamilton investigation and attending yet another press briefing about the case. People were riveted by the salacious details of the Hamiltons' “arrangement” with Dustin Jacoby and the sinister plot behind Taylor's kidnapping. For days now, it had been the lead story in every newspaper and on every TV newscast and entertainment show.

The news of Forrester's plans to take Sam's case to the grand jury had barely made a ripple thanks to the frenzy surrounding the Hamilton case. Sam had heard through the grapevine that Ramsey was furious with Forrester for being a “pussy” about charging her, and he'd been whining about her getting special treatment. It gave her a perverse thrill to hear he was pissed, but she was wise enough after what'd happened with Stahl to keep a close eye on Ramsey. She had a feeling her troubles with him were far from over.

She got home at five-thirty, an hour before her mother was due to arrive for the get-together Angela had arranged. Sam had spoken before two thousand people earlier in the day but was far more nervous about seeing her mother than she'd been about the speech.

When the Secret Service agent working the door admitted her, Scotty ran over to hug her. “I watched the playback on C-Span, and you were awesome. Were you freaking out that you couldn't read the teleprompter?”

“You know it. I started to sweat.”

“Well you'd never know. You were so good, Mom. Really, really good.”

Hearing him call her Mom never got old. “Aww, thanks, buddy. Means a lot coming from you.”

“I'm still mad that I had to go to school and couldn't go with you.”

“I know. Sorry about that. It would've been a lot more fun with you there.”

“Of course it would've.”

Sam laughed and hooked her arm through his. “So come sit with me for a minute. I want to talk to you about something.”

“Whatever it is, I didn't do it.”

“Said the future politician.”

“You really think I could be a politician?”

She ran her fingers through his hair, earning a predictable scowl. “I think you, Scotty Cappuano, could be anything you want to be as long as you work hard and do well in school.”

“Why'd you have to ruin it by bringing school into it?”