“Just following orders, Sergeant.”

“Patricia Donaldson bought a seat on a flight from Chicago to Washington the day before O’Connor’s murder.”

Freddie released a long deep breath. “Wow. I totally missed this one. I’m sorry.”

“We all missed it.”

“But I interviewed her. I should’ve caught the vibe—”

“Knock it off, Cruz.”

“I don’t see her having the strength to get that knife through O’Connor’s neck. She was almost fragile.”

“Rage can make people a lot stronger than normal.”

“Yeah, I guess. Would she have a key to his apartment?”

“Maybe she came for conjugals once in a while. It wouldn’t surprise me that she had a key—I mean who didn’t have a key to that place?”

“Right. And don’t forget, he could’ve let the killer in after he got home.”

“I still say he was taken by surprise since he was murdered in bed. Anyway, don’t let Elin out of your sight, do you hear me?”

“It’s a tough job, but someone’s got to do it.”

Chapter 33

Sam ended the call and sat back in the big leather chair. Closing her eyes, she let her mind wander through the parts and pieces, hoping something would start to add up. The frustration was starting to get to her as day after day went by without the big break she needed to wrap this up. I’m missing something. Something big. But what?

“Everything all right babe?” Nick asked from the doorway.

Holding out her arms, she invited Nick to join her. “We might be starting to get somewhere. Patricia Donaldson bought a ticket on a flight to D.C. the day before John’s murder. We’ve got people trying to figure out where she’s staying in the city. Nothing on the credit report shows her hotel.”

“You’ll figure it out.” He kneeled down in front of her and leaned into her embrace. “What brought on this spontaneous show of affection?”

“I just needed it,” she said, resting her cheek on his shoulder. “I’m frustrated, aggravated, pissed that it’s taken me so long to hone in on her, that someone else had to die…”

“Well, I’m happy to provide comfort any time you need it.” He suddenly stiffened.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, pulling back to look at him.

“What did you do to my desk?”

“Nothing,” she said, all innocence.

“You did, too. You moved things, and you probably did it on purpose to screw with me.”

Sam dissolved into laughter. “You’re such a freak show.” When he would’ve gotten up to fix it, she stopped him. “Leave it. See if you can do it.” She gripped his hands. “Come on. Be strong.”

“Why does it bother you so much that I require order?”

“What you require is so far beyond order the sphincter police haven’t invented the word for it yet.”