Fatal Series 01 - Fatal Affair

want him dead. I mean, after all, he was living the life that should’ve been yours and was about to know real success as a senator when the immigration bill passed. Maybe that was just too much for you.”
    “I loved my brother, Sergeant. Was I jealous of him? You bet I was. I wanted that job. I wanted it. Down here, you know?” He gestured to his gut. “I’d prepared for it my whole life, so yeah, it bothered me that he had it when he didn’t even want it. But killing him wouldn’t change anything for me. You don’t see the Virginia Democrats lined up outside my office wanting me to take his place, do you?”
    “No.”
    “So what was my motive in killing him?”
    “Pleasure? Revenge?”
    “Do I look like I’ve got the energy to care that much about anything?” he asked, his tone heavy with utter defeat.
    Sam stood up. “I’d still like the name of the woman you say you were with that night.”
    Terry sighed. “So would I, Sergeant. Believe me. So would I.”

    Outside, Sam turned to Freddie. “What do you think?”
    “I don’t want it to be him. I mean, think of those poor parents if it was him…”
    Freddie’s endless compassion could be alternatively comforting and aggravating. “He’s a lot more than jealous of his brother. Check out that hole-in-the-wall office. You think it didn’t bug the shit out of him that baby brother was snuggled into that suite in the Hart Building?”
    “Enough to kill him?”
    “I don’t know. I still see a woman for this, but I’m not ruling out the brother angle. Not yet. I’m giving him until the funeral is over to produce his alibi and then he and I are going to have a more formal chat.” She paused before she added, “I need to go home and get changed. Do you mind if we make a quick stop?”
    “Nope. You know I like seeing the deputy chief.”
    “He likes you, too, for some unknown reason.”
    “My wit and charm are hard to resist.”
    “Funny, I seem to have no problem resisting.”
    “You are a rare and unique woman, Sergeant.”
    “And you’d do well to remember that.”
    Freddie laughed and followed her to the car.

Chapter 16
    Sam wasn’t surprised to receive a call from Chief Farnsworth as she drove home.
    “Good morning, Chief. I assume you’ve heard from Senator Stenhouse.”
    “You assume correctly. Is it really necessary to retain him, Sergeant?”
    “I believe it is, sir. He had a number of political reasons to want to see John O’Connor dead, not the least of which was his hatred for the senator’s father.”
    “Hate is a strong word.”
    “It’s his word.” Glancing at Freddie she said, “Correct me if I’m wrong, Detective Cruz, but I believe the senator’s exact words in reference to Graham O’Connor were, ‘I hate his fucking guts.’”
    Freddie nodded his approval.
    “Detective Cruz has confirmed my account, sir.”
    “Tread carefully on this front, Sergeant. Stenhouse can make my life difficult, and if my life is difficult, so is yours.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “The media is burning a hole in the back of my neck clamoring for information. How close are we to closing this one?”
    “Not as close as I’d like to be. I don’t have a clear-cut suspect at the moment—a few who had motive and opportunity—but no one’s popping for me just yet.”
    “I’d like to see you when you get back to HQ.”
    “About what was in the paper this morning?”
    “Yes.”
    “I can handle that, sir. There’s no need—”
    “My office, four o’clock,” the chief said and ended the call.
    “Shit,” she muttered as she returned the cell phone to her coat pocket.
    “They have to take those kinds of threats against an officer seriously, Sam,” Freddie said. “They have no choice.”
    “She’s a grieving mother who’s looking for someone to blame. I’m convenient.”
    “Too bad she can’t see that her crack head husband is the one to blame, not you.”
    Sam parked on Ninth Street, rested her hands on the wheel, and looked over at Freddie. “Listen, in the event that she’s not blowing smoke, there could be some trouble in the form of stray bullets flying at me. I’d understand if you wanted to partner up with someone else until this blows over.”
    “Nice try, Sergeant, but you’re stuck with me.”
    “I could have you reassigned.”
    “You could,” he conceded. “But let me ask you this—if someone was taking pot shots at me, would you bail?”
    “No.”
    “Then why do you think I would?”
    Under