"It's cool that you guys are so mad about it."

"We're beyond mad. What's the next level after furious?"

"Um... I'm trying to think of this vocabulary word we had recently. In... Incense. Something like that."

"Incensed. That's a good word, but we need more umph. Something like freaking pissed sounds much better."

"Freaking is a swear."

"It is not!"

"Is too. Ask Mrs. L."

Sam expelled a dramatic sigh. "Her standards are way too high for me."

"No kidding, really?" he said, rolling his eyes at her.

"Are you making fun of me?"

"Yes, I think I am."

As Sam shared a grin with him, she was delighted to see him snapping out of the funk he'd been in when she picked him up. "Nick thought you might like to go to his fundraiser in Arlington tonight."

His eyes lit up with delight. He loved every second he got to spend with Nick, even if they were doing something most kids would find boring. "I'd love to."

"You'll have to go home to change into your work clothes," she said of the khaki pants, blazer, dress shirts and assortment of ties they'd bought him for his appearances on the campaign trail. He had dubbed them his "work clothes," which they found hilarious.

"That's okay."

"I'll talk to the detail about getting you home to change. Nick said he'd pick you up at home at five thirty so you can ride there together."

In the lobby, they ran into Chief Farnsworth. "Hey guys," he said, eyeing the Secret Service agents who followed them. "How goes it?" He reached out to shake hands with Scotty.

Sam rested her hands on Scotty's shoulders. "I've got a deputy for the afternoon if that's all right with you."

"Of course. Everything okay?"

"He wasn't feeling too good at school, but he's a lot better now, right, buddy?"

The look of pure love he directed her way nearly made her knees buckle. "I'm a lot better now."

"How'd you like to come with old Uncle Joe to take a look at what's going on in the intake area? We could take your mug shot and fingerprints."

"Can I, Sam?" Scotty asked, his eyes glowing with delight.

Sam sent the chief a grateful smile. "Are you sure you have time?"

"I'm sure."

"Have fun and behave," she said to Scotty.

"I always behave," he said indignantly.

Yes, she thought as she watched him walk away with the chief's arm around his shoulders, he was a good boy, which is why it hadn't occurred to him to hit back when the bully struck him. Next time, however, he'd know to defend himself. She'd make sure there wouldn't be a next time with that kid, but there were always others.

She went back to the detectives' pit where she was surprised to see Freddie. "What're you doing here?"

"Couldn't sleep, so I came back in."

"You look wrecked."

"Thanks. Appreciate that. I've been helping Arnold with the phone logs. Is there something else I should be doing?"

"We need to have a conversation with Garrett Collins, and then we've got to talk to Rick Lind, if you're up for it."

"I'm up for it."

"Give me a couple of minutes to get my shit together, and then I'll find you." She went into her office and sifted through a stack of messages that had nothing to do with the case so she pushed them aside.

A knock on her door had her looking up at Lieutenant Archelotta. "Got a minute, Sam?"

"That's about all I've got," she said. "What's up?"

He surprised her when he closed the door. "I was in the Lieutenants' Lounge earlier-"

"We have a Lieutenants' Lounge? Where the hell is that?"

"On the third floor."

"Why didn't anyone tell me that?"

"It's in the lieutenant's handbook."

"There's a handbook?"

"Honestly, Sam, you're a hot mess," he said, laughing.

"Yeah, I know. So anyway..."

"I heard Stahl talking about the Vasquez case and how Willie was found in a Dumpster."

Sam could feel her ire rising. "What did he say about it?"

"That it was symbolic and poetic. I believe those were the words he used. Then the chief asked me to check on whether any calls were made between here and the Washington Star today. I guess you could say I put two and two together."

"Was there a call to the Star?" Sam asked.

"One, from the extension in the Lieutenants' Lounge."

Sam surged to her feet. "We need to check the phone for prints."

"Already done."

"Excellent. You're good, Archie. Really, really good." The double meaning hung in the air between them until Sam cleared her throat and her dirty mind. "Are you willing to tell Farnsworth what you overheard?"

"If it means getting rid of Stahl, you bet your ass I'll tell him."

"We've got to play this right so we don't miss our chance to nail that bastard. Let's wait until you get the prints back, and we'll take the whole thing to the chief all sewn up in a neat package."

"Good plan."

"Could you see who he was talking to in the lounge?"

"Not without giving myself away," Archie said. "I'll keep you posted."

"Thanks for the heads up."

"No problem. I know he's been after you since they gave you his command, so I figured you could use a little ammo against him."

"You figured right."

"I can't believe he was stupid enough to call from a phone inside the house."

"Arrogance, pure and simple. He never thought he'd get caught."

"I hope we can nail him. I hate cops like him who make the rest of us look bad."

"Me too. Thanks again, Archie."

"Anytime."

Before she left the office, she called Gonzo's cell phone to check his status.

"Hey, LT. What's up?"

"Anything to report from the field?"

"Nothing yet. We've got patrol officers fanned out looking for blood."

"Did you hear anything from Carlucci about the transport of Collins?"

"Just that he pitched a huge fit. Said he hadn't done anything wrong. He squawked about having an airtight alibi. The usual."

"Any talk of lawyers?"

"Not that she said. Beckett has him in interrogation two, waiting on you."

"Good, thanks. Keep me posted on the blood." Ending the call, she walked into the pit. "Cruz, let's talk to Mr. Collins."

"Fill me in."

Sam told him about Collins' financial situation as well as the state of his home when Hill visited him there the day before.

"Who smashes up his own stuff like that?" Cruz asked.

"Let's find out."

When Sam and Freddie burst into the room, Collins leaped to his feet. "What the hell is this about? I talked to Agent Hill yesterday-"

"Have a seat, Mr. Collins."

"I demand to know what is going on!"

"Have a seat, Mr. Collins," Sam said, more deliberately this time.

He flounced into the chair, still seething.

"Now, let's start over, shall we? I'm Lieutenant Holland. This is my partner Detective Cruz. He's going to record our conversation." She nodded to Freddie, who turned on the tape recorder that sat on the center of the table.

He rattled off the time and date. "Lieutenant Holland, Detective Cruz, interview with Garrett Collins, general manager of the D.C. Federals in the Willie Vasquez homicide investigation."

"I had nothing to do with what happened to Willie! I told Hill that."

"And he was inclined to believe you," Sam said.

"So what's this all about?"

"We'd like to know why the general manager of a Major League Baseball team is all but broke." She dropped the financial report on the table in front of him.

"How do you know about that?"

"We like to be thorough. Between this financial report and the damage Agent Hill witnessed at your home, we're wondering what you really had riding on that game."

He squirmed ever so slightly, but Sam saw it.

"Did you wager on the game, Mr. Collins?"

"You know I can't do that. MLB players and employees are prohibited from betting on games."

"And yet that rule hasn't stopped it from happening in the past, has it?"

"No."

Sam let the silence fill the room, sending the message that she was waiting on him.

"You don't understand," he finally said.

"What is it I don't understand?"