“Nothing yet,” Tyrone reported, “but I’ll stay on top of them.”

“Thank you. We appreciate all of you giving up your holiday to come in today.”

“Murder happens,” Arnold said.

“Yes, it does,” Sam said. “I have a theory I want to run by you. First, I want you to hear the nine-one-one call, which was made about ten blocks from where the body was discovered, conveniently close to Gonzo’s place.” She made use of the computer workstation in the conference room to play the recording for her team. “Listen again,” she said after the first time. “Do any of you recognize the voice?”

“It’s sort of hard to say when it was so muffled,” Carlucci said.

“That’s what I thought too,” Sam said. “Someone was making an effort to disguise their voice, so they were worried we would recognize it. Which leads to my theory that we need to look at people who had it in for us as a team and as individuals. Who would want to cause trouble for our squad, our department or any of us personally?”

“Do you have people in mind, Lieutenant?” Farnsworth asked.

“A long list,” Sam said. “Starting with Stahl, Ramsey and Gibson, not to mention the wide array of people we’ve arrested, who’re currently suing us, like Melissa Woodmansee, or after us for other things, such as Bill Springer.”

“So you’re suggesting someone killed the mother of Gonzo’s child in order to make trouble for us?” Malone asked. “Kind of far-fetched, Lieutenant.”

“I know it is, but we’ve all seen crazier things on this job than someone killing someone else to forward their own agenda.”

“I think it bears looking into,” Farnsworth said. “We’ve made our share of enemies over the years, and any one of them would be thrilled to see us defending ourselves or one of our top officers against a murder charge.”

“Someone has gone to a lot of trouble to point the finger at Gonzo,” Sam said. “The security cameras in his building were disabled, making it impossible for us to prove he never left the building after he got home yesterday afternoon. His name and address were found on a slip of paper underneath the floor mat in the car Lori was found in. The nine-one-one call was made from his block. Whoever killed her wants us to think it was him.”

“But we know it wasn’t,” Arnold said. “We know he didn’t do it.”

“We do know that,” Sam said, “but the problem is we can’t prove it. We have his word and Christina’s that neither of them went out after they got home yesterday afternoon, but we can’t prove that either. And with the custody ruling in jeopardy thanks to Lori taking her case to the media, they both had motive.”

Arnold stared at her, his anger palpable. “He’s your friend. You can’t honestly believe—”

“I don’t believe that, Arnold. I’m just pointing out the fact that we can’t actually prove he didn’t do it.”

The young detective slumped down in his chair, anger replaced by fear. “We have to do something.”

“Tell me what we can do. I’m all ears.”

“I don’t know, but there has to be something.”

“The one way to definitively prove Gonzo’s innocence is to build a case against someone else—a case that will hold up all the way through a trial.”

“I did a search for Lori,” Jeannie said. “I found something interesting. She was on the board of directors for a church in Bowie that’s been tied to controversy. They protest at funerals for service members, among other distasteful things.”

“I’ve heard of that church,” Tyrone said. “They showed up at Bobby’s funeral. People were furious.”

Sam remembered that funeral for one of Tyrone’s friends from the police academy who’d been hit by a car during a routine traffic stop—and she remembered the controversy that had swirled when the church protestors chose to attend and make it about them.

“Bobby’s folks have never gotten over that,” Tyrone said. “That people who call themselves God-fearing types would turn a police officer’s funeral into such a circus... It was sickening.”

“This is a really good lead.” Sam gestured to McBride and Tyrone. “I want you two to follow up on it in the morning.”

“Will do,” Jeannie said.

Sam looked to her third-shift detectives. “Carlucci and Dominguez, dig into Lori’s financials overnight and have a report for me in the morning. You can work from home since you were here all day.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Carlucci said.

“I don’t like to be dramatic about these things, but Gonzo is counting on us to take the heat off him. Let’s keep him foremost in our minds as we go forward, and let’s remember that someone has gone to a lot of trouble to make it seem like he did it. We know better. Now all we have to do is prove it. I’m going to work on the vengeance angle by paying each of my enemies a visit. Call me if anything breaks on the text messages. Otherwise, I’ll see you all in the morning.”

The somber detectives filed out of the room, their marching orders in hand. Most of them would probably work all night if it would help to clear Gonzo.

Farnsworth and Malone remained behind.

“What’s your plan for these vengeance visits?” Farnsworth asked.

“I’m going to hunt down each of them and ask them where they were yesterday,” Sam said.

“You are not doing that alone,” Farnsworth said.

“I’ll go with her,” Malone said.

Sam glanced at him. “I’ll do the talking.”

“Of course, Lieutenant. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Let’s start up at SVU and see where our friend Ramsey spent New Year’s Eve.”

“I’m with you,” Malone said.

“Keep me posted on what you find out,” Farnsworth said. “I swear to God, if this leads back to Stahl, I’ll kill him with my own hands.”

Sam swallowed hard as she recalled the last time a fellow officer had said those words to her and what had happened shortly afterward. “You’ve got enough on your plate. Leave the scumbags to us.”

“Helen emailed you the info you need for the morning,” he said. “You’re sure you’re still good with doing this? I wouldn’t blame you—”

“I’m fine with it.”

“Is Nick? Have you asked him?”

“Um, no, and I don’t plan to ‘ask’ him. I plan to ‘tell’ him I’m doing it, but he won’t have a problem with it.”

“Are you sure? We’re basically taking advantage of the fact that you’re married to the VP to deal with the media on this. We should make sure he’s on board.”

“Let me worry about him. I can assure you he’d want me to do anything I could to help you out.”

“Close the door,” Farnsworth said.

Malone, who was closest, did as he asked.

“I’ve been thinking...”

A trickle of fear worked its way down Sam’s spine. “About?”

“Maybe I should just resign. Might be best for the department—”

“No,” she said emphatically. “That would not be best for the department. You are what’s best for the department. If you quit, you basically hand Springer and all the other loudmouths an easy victory. I know it’s hard. I know it’s awful to be caught in the crosshairs with the media. I was there myself not all that long ago after Johnson blew up in my face, and it’s no fun at all when you’re in the thick of it. As hard as it is when it’s happening, it passes. They move on to something else, and they forget about you. It’ll happen this time too.”

“You’re right, and I’ve certainly seen it happen enough times. But Springer is determined. I fear he’s not going to be happy with anything less than my head on a stake.”

“So you’re just going to hand it to him? Sir.”

Farnsworth laughed. “Don’t you love how she tacks on that ‘sir’ at the end when she remembers who she’s talking to?”

“I find that equally endearing when she does it to me,” Malone replied.

“Have your fun at my expense, boys, but you know I’m right. This too shall pass, and when it does, you’ll be right where you belong—leading this department. Sir.”

“As much as I hate to admit she’s right,” Malone said. “She’s right.”