"Nothing that stands out, but I'm only about halfway through the six hundred calls he received after the game."

"How do people get the phone number of a professional baseball player?" Jeannie asked.

"Our good friend Ben Markinson at WFBR did the post-game show and put it on the radio so fans could call him to express their displeasure with his performance," Gonzo said.

"There's got to be something we can charge him with for doing that," Sam said.

"I'll think of something," Malone said.

"Jeannie, where are we with Willie's car?"

"CSU has gone over it and they're taking it back to the lab. We were able to retrieve his phone, and it's being processed for prints as well as GPS locations."

"We need a thread to pull," Sam said. "Let's hope this leads to one. Thanks everyone. Keep me posted."

While Sam gathered up her belongings, the others filed out of the room.

Jeannie hung back. "You sound frustrated," she said when she and Sam were alone. "That isn't like you."

"Funny, I feel like I'm usually frustrated in this job."

Jeannie smiled. "You hide it well. So, um, I was wondering... Could I talk to you about something personal?"

Sam experienced a twinge of anxiety. She and Jeannie had been through a lot together, especially since Jeannie was kidnapped and raped during an earlier investigation. The detective had been doing much better, but Sam was always watchful for signs of ongoing post-traumatic stress. "Of course. Do you want to close the door?"

"That'd be great. Thanks." Jeannie closed the conference room door and turned back to Sam with a shy, hesitant look on her face. "This is awkward."

"Spit it out. Whatever it is, we'll figure it out the way we always do."

Rather than return to the seat, Jeannie stood behind it, her fingers digging into the vinyl. "Michael and I have set a wedding date."

"Oh, hey, that's great news. When's the big day?"

"July 18. We're going to do it out at Rehoboth Beach."

"That'll be really nice."

"I hope so. The thing is... You know how this job can be. It's all-consuming. It doesn't leave much time for a life or friends outside of work."

"You won't hear any argument from me on that."

"My sisters are going to be my matrons of honor, but I was sort of hoping that I might convince you to be an attendant too. You've become one of my best friends. I hope you know that."

"Oh, wow, well... That's very nice of you."

"You don't want to, do you?"

"I very much want to, and I'm honored that you would ask. I think of you as a good friend too. You know I do."

"But?"

"I'd be concerned about the message it would send to the rest of the squad if I make such a public statement of personal friendship with you."

"Of course. I understand. I'm sorry if I put you in an uncomfortable position."

"You didn't. And I'm not saying no. Since this is a first for me since taking command of the squad, let me run it up the flagpole and see what the brass has to say about it."

"I wouldn't want you to stick your neck out over it, Sam."

"I'm not." Sam got up and went around the desk to hug her detective-and her friend. "I'm very happy that everything has worked out for you and Michael."

"Thank you," Jeannie said, returning the embrace. "He was such a rock after what happened. It showed me everything I needed to know about who he really is."

"You know I'm one of his biggest fans, so no matter what, I'll be there with bells on for the wedding."

"That means a lot. I'd better get back to work. I'll keep you posted on what comes back from the car."

"And I'll let you know what the powers that be have to say about weddings and whatnot."

Jeannie left her with a warm smile.

Sam walked out of the conference room feeling oddly elated by the conversation with Jeannie. Like Jeannie said-with so much time spent at work, there wasn't much time for outside relationships except with her husband, son, dad, stepmother, sisters and their families.

When she was younger, Sam had a lot of girlfriends but she'd fallen out of touch with most of them because of the endless demands of her job. Jeannie, Lindsey, Charity, Faith and Hope were all colleagues, but they filled the void in some ways. Anytime she needed a female perspective, there was always one to be found at work, and they were all women she admired and respected. She supposed she should count Shelby among her new friends too. Despite the fact that she was their paid assistant, she had been a friend first.

Anxious to get home to her guys, she gathered up the stack of restraining orders and jammed the huge pile of paper into a tote bag that she unearthed from under her desk.

Cruz came in and handed her a slip of paper. "Nathan's home number. Parents are Patty and Dave."

"Thanks."

"Are you going to call now?"

"I suppose there's no time like the present. Close the door, will you?"

He pushed the door closed and took a seat in one of her visitor chairs.

Sam pressed the speaker button on her desk phone and waited for a dial tone before she punched in the numbers. As it rang, she glanced at Freddie and saw him watching the phone intently. He was such a good friend that he was as mad as she was about what had happened to Scotty at school.

"Hello?" a female voice said. She sounded like she'd run for the phone.

"Is this Mrs. Cleary?"

"It is. Who's this?"

"Lieutenant Sam Holland with the Metro Police."

"Oh, sure. I recognize your name. What can I do for you?"

"I'm not sure if you're aware of the fact that your son Nathan punched my son Scotty in the stomach at school today."

"He did what? I didn't hear anything about that. The school never called me."

"Only because Scotty chose not to make it an issue at school. Since it was important to him that we not involve the school, I thought perhaps you and I might work this out between us."

"What's there to work out? They're boys. Boys scuffle. It's what they do."

Sam glanced at Freddie, who was now frowning. "It's also assault, and in my world, that's a criminal offense."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Not at all. I'm simply telling you to tell your kid to stay far, far, far away from mine. And you could also mention that Scotty's mother the cop won't overlook it next time."

"That sounds an awful lot like a threat to me."

"It's not a threat. It's a promise. If he hits my son again, we'll press charges-and I know how to make them stick. Any questions?"

After a very long pause, Mrs. Cleary said, "No. No questions."

"Another thing-if Nathan makes Scotty a social pariah because of this, I won't look fondly upon that either. Bottom line, tell your kid to leave my kid alone, and we won't have any further reason to speak to each other. Got me?"

"I got it." A loud click was followed by a dial tone.

Sam put down the phone. "I think that went well."

Freddie laughed. "You made your point, that's for sure."

"Scotty would be mad if he knew I'd done that."

"You can't let some other kid assault him and not do anything about it."

"Still..."

"You're a great mom, Sam. You did the same thing my mom or any other mom would do in this situation. Scotty might not want you to do anything about it, but he has to know you're not going to just let something like this go."

"Thanks for the support. I'm ready to get out of here. Go home and get some sleep. I'll see you bright and early."

"See you then."

Sam had just closed the door and was about to lock it when Archie came into the pit and pointed at her office. Her departure foiled, she went back into the office and turned on the lights. "Didn't I just see you?"

Archie followed her and closed the door behind him. "I got back to my office to find that we've got Stahl screwed every which way to Tuesday." He held up a flash drive. "Caught on camera at the time the call was made to the Star from the Lieutenants' Lounge. He's the only one in there."

Sam's heart beat faster as she absorbed the implications. "We have to take this to the chief."

"Right now?"

"I've got nothing better to do. Do you?"

They both did, but Archie smiled anyway. "Not a thing. Shall we?"

"After you."

As they walked to the chief's suite in silence, Sam had to force herself to keep calm as the thought of being rid of Stahl once and for all sent hope surging through her. Don't get ahead of yourself, she thought as the chief's admin waved them into his office.

"Lieutenants," Farnsworth said, rising as Archie closed the door behind him. "What can I do for you?"

"Lieutenant Archelotta has determined where our leak came from in the Vasquez investigation," Sam said.

"I was able to trace the call to the Star from the Lieutenants' Lounge. With the help of video surveillance, I determined who was in the lounge at the time the call was made." He held up the flash drive and gestured to the chief's computer. "May I?"

"By all means," the chief said, frowning as he stepped aside to make room for Archie.

Sam's palms were clammy as she waited for the video to pop up on the screen. When it did, Stahl was plainly visible and could be heard speaking about Willie Vasquez. "You didn't hear this from me," he said, "but they found the guy in a Dumpster. Someone decided to take out the trash."

Farnsworth's expression was positively thunderous when he reached for his phone. "Please ask Deputy Chief Conklin and Captain Malone to come in here. Thank you."

The three of them coexisted in tense silence until Conklin and Malone arrived.

"Lieutenant Archelotta, will you please tell Deputy Chief Conklin and Captain Malone what you told me?"

Archie went through the whole thing again, from the tip received by Star reporter Darren Tabor to tracing the call to the Lieutenants' Lounge to catching Stahl red-handed on the video, which was no less startling the second time Sam saw it.

"You gotta be kidding me," Conklin said.

"The guy's got balls," Malone added. "You gotta give him that."

Stone-faced, Farnsworth picked up the phone again. "Please ask Lieutenant Stahl to come in here immediately."

Stahl arrived ten minutes later with a knock on the door. "You wanted to see me, Chief?" His eyes narrowed with displeasure when they landed on Sam. "What's going on?"

"I'd like to know," Farnsworth said, "if you had anything at all to do with a tip that Darren Tabor from the Washington Star received about the Vasquez case regarding something we were intentionally withholding from the public."

Stahl's face turned the unhealthy shade of purple that Sam often inspired in him. "Did she tell you that?" He jabbed a thumb in Sam's direction.

"Answer the question!" Farnsworth roared.

"I had nothing to do with that," Stahl said indignantly. "Regardless of what Lieutenant Holland might've told you."

"Lieutenant Holland didn't tell me anything," Farnsworth said. "You did."

"Excuse me?"

"Lieutenant Archelotta," Farnsworth said, his steely stare fixed on Stahl. "Roll the tape."

Sam had worn the uniform for more than thirteen years. She'd had the satisfaction of nailing a lot of scumbags in her day. But nothing in her career would ever compare to the moment when it registered with Stahl that they could prove he had, in fact, made the call he'd just denied making.

Purple wasn't the right word for the hue that occupied his face. Naturally, all his venom was directed at her. "She set me up! She's been trying to get rid of me for years!"