“If you’ll wait here, I’ll see if I can find out more.”

Diandra nodded.

With Freddie following her, Sam emerged from the interrogation room and ran smack into Lieutenant Stahl.

“Lieutenant,” Stahl said, his fat face shifting to a sneer at the sight of her.

Since he used her rank, Sam assumed she still had it.

“You’ve been suspended,” Stahl said. “You have no business here.”

“The chief called me back to close Sinclair,” Sam said with a satisfied smirk.

Stahl’s cheeks turned an unhealthy shade of purple. “You may think you’ve won this round, Holland, but you mark my words: I’ll get rid of you if it’s the last thing I ever do.”

“Detective Cruz, did you hear Lieutenant Stahl threaten me?” Sam asked, her eyes fixed on Stahl.

“Yes, ma’am. I sure did.”

“So if anything suspicious ever happens to me, you’ll know just where to begin your investigation, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“This is not over,” Stahl said, his spit hitting Sam’s face.

She wiped it away. “Do you mind getting out of my way? I’m working a homicide here.” Shoving past him, she signaled for Freddie to come with her.

“You might want to consider your allegiances, Detective,” Stahl said to their backs. “I’d hate to see such a promising young career derailed.”

Freddie spun around. “My allegiances, Lieutenant, are with my partner, the best cop on this force, so don’t bother wasting your bad breath on me.”

Stahl’s eyes almost popped out of his fat head.

Sam took hold of Freddie’s good arm and half led, half dragged him back to the detectives’ pit. “You shouldn’t have done that. He was baiting you.”

“I knew that.”

“It’s bad enough he has it in for me. I don’t want you sucked into it, too.”

“Too late.”

Captain Malone joined them. “You’ve heard the news? No reduction in rank?”

“Not officially until right now,” Sam said, the relief almost as overwhelming as the worry.

“Apparently, Stahl about had an apoplexy when Andrews sided with Conklin,” Malone said. “You’ve got a very significant enemy there, Lieutenant.”

“I’m not worried about him.” Sam grabbed her radio off her desk. “I’ve got another shooting in the Sinclair case to contend with.”

“Word is the roommate, Tucker Farrell, was DOA on the scene,” Malone said. “Devon Sinclair is being taken to GW Trauma.”

Sam watched Freddie struggle into a coat. “Cruz, you’re done for today. Arrange transport to GW for Mrs. Sinclair, and then call your ride to pick you up.”

“But I’m fine!” he sputtered. “I’m good for a couple more hours.”

“Call your ride,” Sam said. “You did enough for the first day back.”

“Oh come on, Lieutenant!”

“Detective,” Malone said in his quiet but effective way. “I believe your lieutenant has given you an order.”