Fatal Series 01 - Fatal Affair

“Someone who keeps tremendous anger bottled up under a refined exterior. You’ll find she’s been abused or had complicated relationships with the significant men in her life—father, ex-husband, ex-lover. Men have disappointed her in some way and whatever the senator did was the final straw. The breaking point.”
    “Damn,” Freddie said reverently. “You two are something else. She sees these things as clearly as you do.”
    Celia smiled at him. “It’s in their genes. I wonder sometimes if I should be afraid, spending as much time as I do with people who can slide inside a criminal’s mind as easily as these two can.”
    “Enough about our genes.” Sam stood as she downed a last swallow of soda. “Thanks, Celia, for the chow, and you for the consult.” She kissed her father’s cheek. “See you tonight.”
    “I won’t hold my breath,” he said with a dry chuckle. To Freddie he added, “She uses me for a place to keep her considerable wardrobe.”
    “Seems to me she uses you for a lot more than that. Always a pleasure, Chief.”
    “All mine, Detective. The Skins are playing at home Sunday night if you want to stop by to watch the game. Celia tells me there’ll be snacks. Maybe even a beer or two if I’m good.”
    “Snacks, beer and football?” Freddie reached out to squeeze Skip’s hand. “Hard to resist an offer like that. I’ll do my best to come by. Thanks for breakfast, Celia. It was fabulous as usual.”
    “Anytime, Detective,” Celia said, blushing a little as even the strongest of women tended to do when on the receiving end of Freddie’s formidable charm.
    Outside, Sam paused before she got into the car. “I, ah, I just wanted to say thanks for that in there.”
    Freddie’s eyebrows knitted with confusion as he studied her over the top of the car. “For what? Eating your food like I just got rescued from a deserted island?”
    “No.” She struggled to find the words. “For treating him like he’s still a normal guy, a normal person.”
    “He is.” Freddie maintained the puzzled air of innocent befuddlement. “Why would I treat him any other way?”
    “You’d be surprised the way people treat him sometimes.” They got into the car. “I’m only going to say this once, and if I hear you repeated it I’ll deny it with everything I’ve got. Understand?”
    “Gee, I can’t wait to hear this. You leave me breathless with anticipation.”
    “Your sarcasm and significant dietary failings aside, you’re a special guy, Freddie Cruz. A one-in-a-million good guy.” She glanced over to find him staring at her with his mouth hanging open. “Now that we’ve got that bullshit out of the way, what do you say we get back to figuring out who killed the senator?” When Freddie failed to reply, she said, “For Christ’s sake, will you quit looking at me like I just hit you with the Taser?”
    “Might as well have,” he muttered. “Might as well have.”
    That he didn’t mention her disrespectful use of the Lord’s name told her she’d truly shocked him with the compliment, which made for a satisfying start to what promised to be a shitty day.

    They found Natalie Jordan at home alone in Belle Haven, an upscale development of stately colonial homes in Alexandria. Red brick, white columns and black wrought iron fronted hers. The home reeked of old money and Virginia aristocracy.
    “Nice crib,” Freddie said, gazing around at the well-kept grounds.
    “Looks like Natalie landed herself a sugar daddy after all,” Sam said as she rang the doorbell. Chimes pealed inside.
    Natalie answered the door dressed in a salmon-colored silk blouse, winter white wool pants and two-inch heels. A gold chain bearing a diamond the size of Sam’s thumb encircled her slender neck, and her blond hair was cut into a sleek bob that perfectly offset her thin, angular face. Sharp blue eyes were rimmed with red and dark circles marred her otherwise flawless complexion. Sam could see what Nick had meant when he’d described Natalie as “quite something.”
    No slouch in the fashion department herself, Sam was immediately intimidated. Her stomach twisted. Willing the pain away with a quick deep breath, Sam flashed her badge. “Detective Sergeant Holland and Detective Cruz, Metro Police.”
    “Come in,” Natalie said in a honeyed Southern accent. “I’ve been expecting you.”
    “Is that so?” Sam said as they followed her to a living room ripped from the pages of the Town & Country