“Shit, Sam. What the hell is this?”

“I wish I knew, but I don’t like it. And with all my best people dealing with other shit.”

“Where’s Cruz?”

“Elin is in the hospital with broken facial bones from an incident at the gym yesterday.”

“Shit. What about Hill? Shouldn’t we call in the Feds since this is all about us in some way?”

“He’s sent his deputy because he’s dealing with a personal issue with my assistant, who’s pissed off at him, me and Nick because none of us told her about Hill’s thing with me.”

“What thing with you?”

“You honestly don’t know?”

“No idea. Don’t tell me you and him... You met him after you were with Nick.”

“There was nothing between him and me, except for in his dreams. And now Shelby knows that.”

“Hill had a thing for you? Seriously? Does he have a death wish? And how did I miss this?”

“I don’t know. He was pretty fucking obvious about it. Nick hates his guts.”

“That I had noticed, and I wondered why since Nick likes everyone. It all makes sense now.”

“And it’s the last fucking thing I need right now with him starting the new job and someone targeting my department. Now I’ve got a wounded assistant and friend who thinks I pushed her toward her boyfriend to get his attention away from me.”

“Did you?”

“No! But if that happened, I wasn’t going to be sad about it.”

“I’m coming back to work. Enough of this sitting around shit. With Cruz out and the trial starting for Jeannie tomorrow, you need me.”

“I can’t let you come back until you’ve been medically cleared, Gonzo. You know that.”

“Fuck that. I’m coming back. I’ll work for free. I’ll call you when I get to the city.”

“Gonzo.”

“See you shortly.”

Sam stashed the phone in her suit coat pocket and got out of the car, dreading what she had to tell Marissa Springer, but secretly relieved to know she’d have Gonzo’s help. It was too soon for him to come back, but she’d take all the help she could get to figure this out before more damage was done to the department and the people she cared about.

As she approached the door to the house where her niece’s life was changed forever, Sam felt queasy reliving the horror of that night and the days that followed. Brooke was doing better. She was back to school in Virginia and trying to repair her life with the help of intense counseling. But she would never be the same person who’d walked into Hugo Springer’s house that night.

Sam rang the doorbell and heard it echo through the three-story townhouse. Several minutes passed before the inside door swung open to reveal the Springers’ housekeeper, Edna Chan, who’d been the one to discover the bodies of Hugo and eight of his friends in the basement.

“Help you?” the woman asked, though Sam had no doubt Edna recognized her.

Sam showed her badge. “May I please speak to Mrs. Springer?”

Edna’s brows narrowed. “How come?”

“I need to speak to her.” Sam could almost see the woman’s internal debate as she tried to decide what she should do.

Finally, she pushed open the storm door and indicated for Sam to follow her to the front living room. “Have a seat. I’ll get her.”

“Thank you.”

Sam was frankly surprised the Springers were still living in the house where one of their sons killed the other. If, God forbid, something like that ever happened in her home, she’d never be able to step foot in there again.

The woman who came into the room a few minutes later barely resembled the Marissa Springer she’d met during the earlier investigation. Her blond hair was stringy and greasy looking, her face pale and puffy. She wore sweatpants and a dirty sweatshirt.

Sam, who’d remained standing while she waited, had to make an effort to hide her shock at the woman’s disheveled appearance.

“Why are you here?” she asked in a dull, flat tone.

“I need to speak to you. About your husband.”

“What about him?”

“Can you come have a seat?” Sam gestured to the sofa.

Marissa eyed her suspiciously but did as she asked.

Sam joined her. “I’m very sorry to have to tell you your husband was found dead in his office this morning.”

“Did the tart he was screwing find him?”

Taken aback by the woman’s venomous words, Sam wasn’t sure how to respond.

“You’re surprised I knew?” Marissa said with a harsh laugh. “I knew everything that stupid, worthless man did because I’ve had him followed for years. He thought he was going to get rid of me and run away with a woman younger than his daughters? Not on my watch.”

This had not gone at all like Sam had expected it to, so she recalibrated. “Mrs. Springer, where were you last night?”

“Right here. I hated his guts, but I didn’t kill him.”

“Were you here by yourself?”

“Edna was with me. We ordered in Chinese and watched a movie. I went to bed at ten.”

“The investigator who followed your husband, could you please give me his name and number if you know it?”

“I know it. I’ve called it every day for five years.” She wrote the information in Sam’s notebook.

“What made you decide to start having him followed?”

“A combination of things. I knew Billy was up to no good and Bill kept blowing it off as a ‘boys will be boys’ thing, which infuriated me. Then I found out Bill was profiting from Billy’s illegal activities.”

“Profiting how?” Sam asked, feeling the buzz that she lived for as a homicide investigator.

“He... He knew Billy was a dealer and provided legal advice to him and his colleagues in drug dealing. I blame him for what happened to Hugo and his friends, not Billy. He could’ve put a stop to it years ago, but he chose to support him instead. It’s his fault my babies are dead.”

“Did your husband know you blamed him for the deaths of your sons?” Sam asked as she tried to process what Marissa was telling her.

“You bet your life he knew. I kicked him out of here the day after Billy’s funeral, and I haven’t seen him since.”

“The guy you had following him, I assume you didn’t call him off after you kicked him out?”

“Oh, hell no. He’s been reporting in every day.”

Sam really wanted to talk to him—like right now. “Mrs. Springer.”

“Please, call me Marissa. Mrs. Springer reminds me of the man I was married to.”

“Marissa, I can’t help but notice you seem unwell.” Dirty, unkempt and disheveled were more accurate words. “I know you’ve been through an awful time.”

“I hope you never know the kind of pain I’m in, Lieutenant,” she said softly. “I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

“Have you spoken to a doctor?”

She shook her head. “That would take more energy than I can seem to muster these days. I’m not sleeping. I can’t eat. It’s just...” And then tears were spilling down her cheeks. “That my son could’ve killed his brother and all those other kids. It haunts me, you know?”

Sam couldn’t begin to imagine how it must feel to have given birth to a man who was capable of what Billy Springer had done. “I have a good friend who’s a doctor. Would you like me to call him and ask him if he’d stop by to see you?”

“I...I, yes, that would be very kind of you. Thank you.” She paused before she added, “Bill hated you—and your husband.”

“Oh. Well...”

“It was only because he wanted someone to blame for what Billy did. But he—and Billy—were the ones to blame. He knew all along it was going to lead back to Billy. I asked him. That first night after we got that horrible call, I asked him if it was Billy, and he told me to shut up, that he’d kill me if I ever said that to anyone.” She wiped away more tears. “He knew it was Billy.”

Sam thought about the confrontation Springer had with Chief Farnsworth, when Sam had stopped him from punching the chief in the face. He’d been so angry about the homicide investigation leading to his son.