Fatal Series 01 - Fatal Affair

on Nick’s desk rang, and Christina reached for it. “Nick Cappuano’s office.” Once again her eyes widened, and she stammered as she said, “Of course. One moment please.”
    “Who is it?” Nick asked.
    “The president,” she whispered.
    Nick quickly swallowed a mouthful of pizza and reached for a napkin and the phone at the same time. “Good evening, Mr. President.” He had met President Nelson on several occasions—mostly in receiving lines at Democratic Party fundraisers—but a phone call from him was unprecedented.
    “Hello, Nick. Gloria and I just wanted to tell you all how sorry we are.”
    “Thank you, sir. I’ll pass that along to the staff. And thank you for the statement you issued to the press.”
    “I’ve known John since he was a little boy. I’m heartbroken.”
    “We all are.”
    “I can only imagine. I also wanted to make myself available for anything you might need over the next few days.”
    “I appreciate that. I know Senator and Mrs. O’Connor would be honored if you could speak at the funeral.”
    “ I’d be honored.”
    “I’ll work with your staff on the details.”
    “Let me give you my direct number in the residence. Feel free to use it.”
    Nick took down the number with a sense of disbelief. “Thank you.”
    “I spoke earlier with Chief Farnsworth and made the full resources of the federal government available to the Metropolitan Police. I’m sure you’ll be close to the investigation. If there’s anything you feel they could be doing that they’re not, don’t hesitate to contact me.”
    “I won’t, sir.”
    The president released a deep sigh. “I just can’t imagine who would do such a thing to John of all people.”
    “Neither can I.”
    “Do you think Graham and Laine would be up for a phone call?”
    “I’m sure they’d love to hear from you.”
    “Well, I won’t keep you any longer. God bless you and your staff, Nick. Our thoughts and prayers are with you all.”
    “Thank you so much for calling, Mr. President.” Nick put down the phone and looked over at Christina.
    “Unreal,” she said.
    “Surreal,” he added, filling her in on what the president had said.
    She began to cry again. “I keep waiting for John to come bounding in here asking why we’re all sitting around.”
    “I know. Me, too.”
    “I actually had a few people ask me today how this affects their jobs,” she said with disgust.
    “Well, you can’t blame them. They have families to support.”
    “Couldn’t they have waited a day or two to bring that up?”
    “Apparently not. I’ll talk to them about it tomorrow and tell them we’ll do our best to get them placed somewhere in government.”
    “What’ll you do?” she asked.
    “Shit, I don’t know. I can’t think about that until after we get through the funeral. The two of us, maybe a couple of others, will be needed for a while until the governor appoints someone to take John’s place. Whoever it is will want to bring in their own people, so we’ll help with the transition and then figure out what’s next, I guess.”
    Christina looked so sad, so despondent that Nick felt his heart go out to her. “Why don’t you go home, Chris? There’s nothing more we can do here tonight.”
    “What about you?”
    “I’ll be going soon, too.”
    “All right,” she said as she got up. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
    “Try to get some sleep.”
    “As if.”
    He walked her to the door and sent her off with a hug before he wandered into John’s office. The desk had been swept clean and the computer removed. If it hadn’t been for the photo of John with his niece and nephew on the windowsill, there would’ve been no sign of him or the five years he’d spent working in this room. Nick wasn’t sure what he hoped to find when he sat in John’s chair. Swiveling to look out the window, he could see the Washington Monument lit up in the distance.
    Resting his head back, he stared at the monument and finally gave himself permission to do what he’d needed to do all day. He wept.

    Sam arrived home exhausted after a sixteen-hour day and smiled when she heard the whir of her father’s chair as he came out to greet her.
    “Hi, Dad.”
    “Late tonight.”
    “I’m on O’Connor.”
    The side of his face that wasn’t paralyzed lifted into a smile. “Are you now? Farnsworth’s got you right back on the horse.”
    She kicked off her boots and bent to kiss his cheek. “So it seems.”
    Celia, one of the