“Did you kill Lori Phillips?”

“Do I have to shoot you to shut you up?”

Before Sam could answer, the upstairs door opened and closed.

“Down here,” Marissa called up the stairs.

Sam held her breath, waiting to see what would happen next and looking—always—for a way out. But Marissa never took her eyes or the gun off her.

Heavy footsteps on the stairs took Sam’s anxiety level into the red zone. She saw the belly first and had to smother the urge to gasp when Stahl appeared in the basement, his beady eyes alight with pleasure at the sight of her on the other end of Marissa’s gun.

“Well, well, well, lookie here.” He rubbed his hands together with glee, which made Sam’s stomach turn with dread and nausea.

“Stop celebrating and tie her up,” Marissa said.

“Don’t snap at me, bitch. I’ve waited a long time for this moment. You need to let me enjoy it.”

“Do your enjoying after you tie her up.”

As Stahl approached her, it took all the self-control Sam possessed to keep from blinking or flinching or doing anything else that would only add to his satisfaction. No matter what happened here, she wouldn’t give him anything more than she had to.

“What’s a matter? Cat got your tongue, Lieutenant?”

She stared at him, unblinking.

He slapped her hard across the face, making her see stars. Then he grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked—hard. “When I ask you something, you’d better answer me.”

Sam spit in his face.

Chapter Nineteen

Stahl’s complexion turned that unattractive shade of purple she was so used to seeing. He used his sleeve to wipe the spit from his face and then delivered a punch to the same spot he’d slapped.

Sam fought through the darkness that descended upon her after the initial blast of pain, trying to stay conscious. Whatever happened, she had to keep her wits about her.

Stahl pulled a length of rope from his back pocket and moved to the back of the chair. He went for maximum pain as he tied her wrists and ankles to the chair. The one bit of solace she took was if she were tied like this, he couldn’t rape her. She figured she could get through just about anything but that.

“The stupid bitch at CBC took the bait,” Stahl said. “They’re reporting that the FBI is talking to Farnsworth about his whereabouts when your asshole husband was killed.”

“Very good,” Marissa said with a satisfied smile.

To Sam, he said, “I also heard that your fuck toy Cruz did exactly what we expected him to do and went into the jail last night to tune up Elliott.”

Sam processed that information, her foggy brain racing to keep up after the brutal punch. Cruz had gone into the jail to deal with the guy who’d hurt Elin. Had that been another setup?

Stahl cinched the ropes in tight around her wrist, so tight that her fingers immediately tingled from the lack of blood. He leaned in close to her. “You and your boys are going down.”

Sam blinked back the tears that filled her eyes from the pain shooting through her skull. She refused to give him the pleasure of seeing her break down. The fact that they were tying her up rather than shooting her was a small consolation. It meant there was something they wanted before they took her out.

Her people would be looking for her. At least she hoped they would. Nick would look for her when she didn’t show up at the reception. She just had to stay calm—and alive—until the cavalry arrived.

* * *

Gonzo got to HQ around four o’clock to find the pit deserted. He tried Sam on her phone, but it went to voice mail after it rang four times.

“Hey, it’s Sam Holland. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

“It’s Gonzo. I’m at HQ. Where are you?” He ended the call and went to his cubicle, which had been cleaned and organized in his absence, mostly likely by his partner, Detective Arnold.

Speak of the devil. Arnold came into the pit carrying a stack of paper and a large coffee. He stopped short at the sight of Gonzo, his eyes bugging. “What’re you doing here?”

“The world has gone mad, so I figured I’d come do what I can to help.”

“It’s so good to see you here.”

“Thanks,” Gonzo said to the young man who’d saved his life by applying pressure to a wound that surely would’ve killed him without Arnold’s quick action.

“Did the doc say it was okay to come back?”

Gonzo picked up his ball of elastics and squeezed the tight rubber object. His strength still wasn’t what it used to be, but it was getting better every day. “Nope.”

“So, um, should you be here?”

“Probably not.”

“Gonzo.”

“Don’t start on me. I’ve already heard an earful from Christina all the way back to town from Harper’s Ferry. I need to be here. I can’t sit at home watching the media tear my life apart. Besides, something stinks to high heaven around here.”

“We were just talking about that in the cafeteria. Two people who’d made trouble for the department suddenly murdered in the span of two days? That feels calculated, you know?”

“Not to mention, how did Lori find out about my connection to the judge? How did Billy Springer know we were coming after him for the murder of his brother?”

Arnold took a look around the deserted pit, lowering his voice. “You think it’s an inside thing?”

“I don’t know what to think. Do you know where the LT is?”

“She was going to tell Springer’s wife and then coming back here last I heard.”

“How long ago was that?”

Arnold checked his watch. “A while ago now.”

“Is Cruz with her?”

Arnold shook his head. “He’s out today. Elin is still in the hospital.”

“So who’s with Sam?”

“No one.”

Tugging Arnold’s portable radio off his belt, Gonzo tried to reach Sam but got no answer. He got up too quickly and a dizzy spell had him grasping the cubicle wall.

“Are you okay?” Arnold asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just moved too fast.”

“I’d hate to see you screw up your recovery by coming back too soon.”

“I’m not going to screw up anything. And while it’s just us here, I want to say, you know, thanks for what you did that day. I don’t remember much of anything that happened after we got to Friendship Heights, but from what I’m told, you saved my life. I just want you to know I’m grateful. I’ve been meaning to tell you that for a while now, but there always seems to be other people around when we’re together.”

The young detective looked like he might cry but then pulled himself together. “It was nothing you wouldn’t have done for me. Or at least I hope you would.”

Gonzo laughed. “If you’re stupid enough to get shot in the neck like I was, I’d do the same for you.”

“That’s comforting, Sarge. Thanks.”

“What’s with all the papers?” Gonzo asked.

“Lori’s phone records. Slow going.”

“I’ll let you get back to it. I’m going to find Malone and see if he knows where Sam is.”

“Keep me posted on what you hear.”

“Will do.”

Gonzo left the pit and went in search of the captain, who he found in a conversation with Farnsworth outside the chief’s office.

“Sergeant Gonzales,” Farnsworth said. “You’re back.”

“So it seems,” Gonzo replied.

Malone gave him a shrewd once-over. “Funny, I don’t recall seeing your return-to-work form.”

“It’s in the mail,” Gonzo said. “I’m good as new.”

“At the most, light duty, Sergeant,” Farnsworth said sternly.

“Absolutely.” Gonzo breathed a sigh of relief when he realized they weren’t going to send him home. “Does anyone know where Lieutenant Holland is? I tried to get her on the radio and on her cell and got her voice mail. She told me she had one quick thing to do and would meet me here, but that was more than an hour ago. Last Arnold knew, she was going to inform Marissa Springer.”