Fatal Series 01 - Fatal Affair

road long enough to glance at her. “Your scumbag ex-husband. He pisses me off.”
    “Yeah,” she sighed. “Me, too.”
    “It’s all over the papers.”
    “I knew it would be.”
    “I have it there. In the backseat if you wanted to…”
    Her stomach twisted in protest. “That’s all right. Thanks.”
    “He had pictures of you all over his place. It was totally creepy. There were shots of you from a distance working crime scenes, and he even had a police scanner.”
    Sam’s stomach took a dive at that news. “I should’ve known he wouldn’t just give up and go away. I should’ve known that.”
    “This isn’t your fault,” he said fiercely.
    “So Natalie Jordan paid us a visit last night,” Sam said, anxious to change the subject. She relayed what Natalie told them and went over their visit with Noel. “I don’t think he did it, but I want to get him on a polygraph today. Will you set that up?”
    “Sure thing. I don’t see Noel for it, either. Nothing about him screamed ‘murderer’ to me. Natalie, on the other hand, she’s a cool customer.”
    “Nick said she’s lying about Noel, but he’s never liked her.”
    “He’s got good instincts, though,” Freddie said.
    “Do me a favor when we get in, ask Gonzo and Arnold to check out this address.” She gave him the slip of paper with Natalie’s parents’ address. “And have them go by Noel Jordan’s house in Belle Haven. Get me a couple of hours of surveillance on him before you bring him in.”
    “Got it. Will do.” As they pulled up to the last intersection before the public safety building, he said, “Shit.” He pointed at the street leading to HQ, lined with TV trucks bearing satellite dishes.
    “Goddamn it.”
    He scowled at her choice of words. “Let’s go in through the morgue.”
    “Good plan.”
    They parked on the far side of the building, entered through the basement door and took a circuitous route to the detectives’ pit where Gonzo and Arnold waited for them.
    “We’ve got Terry O’Connor in lockup. He’s lawyering up.”
    “Figured.”
    “They filmed us bringing him in,” Arnold said. “It’ll be the lead story this morning.”
    Captain Malone burst through the door. “The chief just got off the phone with a very angry Senator O’Connor. He’s threatening to call the president.”
    “He can call anyone he wants,” Sam said. “His son had motive, a key and can’t produce his supposed alibi. If he was anyone else, we would’ve had him in here days ago, and you know it. I need to rule him out.”
    They stared each other down for a long moment before Malone blinked. “Get him into interview and either charge him or let him go. And do it quickly.”
    “Yes, sir.” To Gonzo, she added, “Bring him up.”

Chapter 29
    When Sam and Freddie entered the small interrogation room, Terry O’Connor leaped to his feet. “I didn’t kill my brother! How many times do I have to tell you that?”
    She pretended to gaze intently into the file she had carried into the room with her. “The reason you’re here is you failed to attend the safe driving course the judge ordered after your DUI.”
    “You aren’t serious.”
    Sam glanced at Freddie.
    “She’s serious,” Freddie said.
    “I meant to,” Terry stammered.
    “Why don’t we talk about why we’re really here?” the attorney said.
    “Give me a lie detector.”
    Grabbing Terry’s shirt, the attorney yanked him into a chair. “Shut up, Terry.”
    “Mr. O’Connor, have you been advised of your rights?” Sam asked.
    “The cops you sent to haul me out of my parents’ house before dawn went through all that,” he spat back at her.
    “Do we have your permission to record this interview?”
    “At the advice of counsel,” the attorney drawled in a honeyed Southern accent, “Mr. O’Connor will cooperate with this farce—within reason.”
    “Isn’t that good of him?” Sam asked Freddie.
    “Real good,” Freddie agreed as he turned on the recorder and noted for the record who was in the room and why.
    “It’s now been ninety-six hours since your brother’s body was discovered in his apartment,” Sam said. “You say you spent the night of the murder with a woman you met in a Loudoun County bar. Can you give me her name?”
    “No,” Terry said, dejected.
    “Have you found anyone who can confirm you left the establishment with this imaginary woman?”
    “She wasn’t imaginary!” he cried, slapping his hand on the