Fatal Series 01 - Fatal Affair

me we were having a party, Chief. I would’ve brought snacks.”
    “Sergeant,” Farnsworth said, his handsome face tight with stress that only added to Sam’s. “Before we get into the Johnson matter, go ahead and brief us on the status of the O’Connor investigation.”
    Folding her hands tightly in her lap, she brought them up to speed, holding back the details about the senator’s peculiar sexual appetites. She had decided to do her best to keep that out of the official record in deference to his parents and family.
    “So almost seventy-two hours out, we don’t have so much as a suspect?” Stahl said.
    Sam made an effort not to show him what a jackass she thought him to be. “We have several individuals of interest we’re actively pursuing. In addition, I believe the senator had a son who was kept hidden from the public. I request permission to travel tomorrow to Chicago to further investigate this thread.”
    “How’s it relevant?” Stahl snapped.
    Repulsed by the roll of fat around his belly and the huge double chin that wiggled when he talked, Sam said, “If it’s true, the senator’s relationship with the mother could be very relevant.”
    “I’ll authorize the travel,” Malone said, pulling rank on Stahl who fumed in silence.
    “Thank you, Captain,” Sam said.
    “The Feds are sniffing around,” Farnsworth said. “I’ve managed to hold them off thus far, but with every passing day, it’s getting harder.”
    “Understood. We’re moving as fast as we can.”
    “All available resources are at your disposal, Sergeant,” Farnsworth added. “Use whatever you need.”
    “Yes, sir. Thank you.”
    “Now, on the other matter, we’ve got Mrs. Johnson on a seventy-two-hour hold.”
    “You aren’t planning to charge her, are you, sir?” Sam asked.
    “AUSA Miller is considering charges.”
    “If I may, sir,” Sam said. “While no one would mistake Destiny Johnson for mother of the year, I have no doubt her heartbreak is genuine.”
    “That doesn’t give her the right to threaten the life of a police officer,” Farnsworth said.
    “She has good reason to be pissed with Sergeant Holland and the department,” Stahl said.
    “Lieutenant, I find your attitude counterproductive,” Farnsworth said. “You can get back to work.”
    “But—”
    Captain Malone flipped his thumb toward the door.
    With an infuriated glance at Sam, Stahl hauled himself out of the chair and waddled to the door. After it closed behind him, Farnsworth returned his attention to Sam. “We have to take her threats seriously, Sergeant. You’re extremely vulnerable in the field, so until you’ve testified on Tuesday, we’re putting you under. Limited duty, permission to work from home, no field work.”
    “Since I’m going to Chicago tomorrow, taking Sunday off, and attending the senator’s funeral on Monday, that shouldn’t be a problem.”
    “About the funeral…” Deputy Chief Conklin said.
    “I believe the local and federal security required to bring in the president will be sufficient to protect a lowly District sergeant,” Sam said with what she hoped was a confident smile.
    “The Secret Service will have to be made aware of the threat and your planned presence at the service,” Conklin said. “I’ll take care of that.”
    “Appreciate it,” Farnsworth said. He leaned forward to address Sam. “I want you to take this very seriously. Johnson has a lot of friends, and all of them—fairly or unfairly—blame you for what happened in that house. They don’t care that you didn’t fire the shot. They care that you gave the order.”
    “Yes, sir.” Since she blamed herself, too, she could understand where they were coming from.
    “AUSA Miller, has Sergeant Holland been adequately prepared for Tuesday’s court appearance?”
    “She has, Chief. We’ve been through it several times, and she’s never wavered from her initial statement.”
    “I’ll let you get back to work then,” Farnsworth said. “Thanks for being here.”
    “No problem.” With an encouraging smile for Sam, Charity got up and left the room.
    “If there’s nothing else, I’ve got a few more threads to tie up before my tour ends,” Sam said.
    “There’s just one more thing,” Farnsworth said, reaching for a file on his desk.
    Sam refused to acknowledge the twinge of pain that hovered in her gut. “Sir?”
    “I had lunch with your father earlier this week.”
    “Yes, sir, he mentioned that. I know he