“What’s this favor you need?”
“I’m looking for something that’s been missing for four years, and I only recently realized it.”
“Okay...”
“I know it’s a long shot, but my dad was brought here after he was shot. He had a messenger bag that he carried back and forth to work. A colleague recalls seeing him wearing it across his chest before the shooting. It’s possible it was still there when he was shot and would’ve been on him when he was brought here.”
“Anything he came in with would’ve stayed with him when he was admitted.”
“Is it possible that in the effort to save his life, he could’ve been separated from it?”
“I suppose it’s possible it was still with him if the EMTs didn’t cut it off to gain access.”
“If it was still with him, where would it have ended up?”
Before he could reply, Freddie appeared at the door. “Morning.”
“Morning. Dr. Anderson and I were discussing where missing items land in this place.”
“We have a central lost and found in the main office off the lobby,” Anderson said. “It’s run by volunteers.”
Sam cringed at the word volunteers.
Anderson chuckled. “Don’t make that face. They’re remarkably organized and are the backbone of this place.”
“If you say so.”
“I say so.” He consulted a directory, picked up the phone and made a call. “This is Dr. Anderson in Emergency. I have Lieutenant Holland from the Metro PD here.” He paused, glanced at Sam and said, “Yes, the vice president’s wife.”
Sam groaned.
Anderson smiled. “She’s looking for something from four years ago that possibly came in with a patient and might’ve ended up with you guys. Is it okay to send her over to take a look?” After listening for a second that seemed like much longer, he said, “Okay, will do.” He hung up the phone. “She said you’re more than welcome to look, but they don’t tend to keep things that long, unless they seem valuable.”
Sam’s heart sank. Her dad’s beat-up leather messenger bag certainly wouldn’t pass the valuable test. But they would look anyway. “Thanks for your help, Doc.”
“My pleasure.” Using a printed map of the hospital, he showed her where to find the lost and found office. “Would you like me to punch your frequent-flyer card?”
In light of her many visits to the ER, he’d recently given her a card as a joke. “That’s okay.”
“Hey,” Anderson said when they were halfway out the door. “I’m very sorry about your dad.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you holding up okay?”
“Working the cold case helps.”
“I’ll hope and pray you get the answers you’re looking for.”
“I appreciate that.” She followed the directions he’d given her to the main lobby, realizing that at some point the good doctor had become a friend despite the needles. One could never have too many friends, or so her dad had always said. He’d had so many friends, people from all walks of life who’d come to pay their respects during the public viewing. She wasn’t nearly as likable as he’d been, but she had her share of friends and appreciated every one of them, especially at times like these.
As she and Freddie navigated the maze of corridors and hallways, Sam kept her head down to avoid eye contact with curious people they encountered. She heard the whispers and the buzzing, felt the eyes on her and the fingers pointed in her direction, but ignored it all to stay focused on why she was here.
The woman whom Anderson had spoken to was waiting for them when they arrived in the lobby. She waved them over to a doorway, located behind the information desk. “Hi there, I’m Ann, and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Sam shook her hand. “You too. This is my partner, Detective Cruz.”
“I’m sorry for your recent loss.”
“Thank you. Do you mind if we take a look?”
“Feel free.” Ann stepped aside to let them enter the small room. Shelves lined the walls with items contained in plastic bins.
“Is there any particular place that older items would be kept?” Sam asked.
“Not really. We’ve tried to institute organization, but with volunteers in and out, things get mixed-up.”
“Okay, then we’ll check it all,” Sam said, resigned to being there awhile.
Freddie gestured toward the left side. “I’ll start over here.”
Sam headed for the far right and pulled the first bin off the top shelf. Inside were stuffed animals, clothing, shoes. They worked quietly and methodically, going through each bin and checking every item, meeting in the middle after more than an hour. They pulled the last two bins off the shelf and sifted through the items inside, but there was no leather messenger bag.
Freddie lifted the last two bins back onto the shelf. “What now?”
Putting aside her disappointment at not finding the bag here, she took a second to gather her thoughts. “I want to talk to every first responder who was on G Street that day.”
“We’ve talked to them before.”
“Yes, but we’ve never asked if they remember a messenger bag. This time we’ll ask them that.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Sam knew the list of people by heart. “Let’s hit the fire department on the way back to HQ.”
They arrived at the engine company that had responded to the call thirty minutes later, and walked in through the open doors, past the trucks to the common area in the back. The firefighters and paramedics were seated around a large table, binders open before them as an instructor led them through a class that came to a stop when Sam and Freddie walked in.
“Lieutenant.” The firefighter leading the workshop wore a white shirt and captain’s bars. Sam had seen him around but couldn’t recall his name. “To what do we owe the honor?”
“Sorry to interrupt. We’re taking a fresh look at my dad’s shooting, and I was wondering if we might have a word with anyone who was on the scene that day.”
“I was there,” one of the men said.
Sam recognized him as David Branson, a paramedic, and nodded to acknowledge him.
“Me too,” a female firefighter said.
Carmen Garcia, Sam recalled.
“Could we have a word in the hallway perhaps?” Sam asked.
The captain gestured for them to go ahead.
When the four of them were in the hallway, Sam shook hands with Garcia and Branson. “Good to see you again.”
“Likewise,” Garcia said. “We were sorry to hear of your dad’s passing.”
“Thank you.”
“What can we do for you?”
“My dad carried a leather messenger bag that I had forgotten about until someone shared a memory with me and I realized we haven’t seen that bag since the shooting. I know it’s a long shot, but we’re trying to figure out what became of it.”
Branson rubbed at the stubble on his jaw as he thought about it. “I’m trying to sift through the details of that day.”
“I know it was a long time ago.”
“Some calls stand out more than others. That one has stayed with me.”
Sam already knew that the shooting of a dedicated police officer had been traumatic for everyone who’d responded. Deaths and serious injuries of officers on the job served as a reminder to all public safety personnel of the ever-present danger they tried not to think too much about as they went through their days.
“I don’t remember a bag,” Garcia said.
“I can’t say I do either,” Branson said.
“What shift does Viera work these days?” Sam asked of one of the other paramedics who’d been there.
“Third,” Garcia said. “He’s probably sleeping now, but I can text him and ask him to get in touch with you.”
“That would be great.” Sam handed her a business card. “My cell number is on there.”
“We’ll get word to him,” Branson said. “If there’s anything else we can do, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“I will, thanks. It goes without saying that if you think of anything else, I’d appreciate a call.” She hesitated, briefly debating whether she should ask, and in the end, the need to know trumped everything else. “One other thing I was wondering. Do either of you remember who was in charge at the scene?” Since there was no mention of Conklin being there in any of the reports, she was hoping someone besides Davis would recall seeing him and could put him at the scene.
They both thought about that for a moment.
“I can’t say I recall that,” Garcia said.
“I can’t either,” Branson said. “There were so many people there that day at various times.”
“I understand,” Sam said. “Four years is a long time.”
“Wish we could do more,” Garcia said. “We’re all very sorry for your loss. DC Fire and EMS held Deputy Chief Holland in the highest regard.”
“Thank you and we appreciated the outpouring of support during the funeral.” Hundreds of firefighters and EMS personnel had attended the services in uniform.
“It was the least we could do,” Branson said.
Sam shook hands with both of them. “Thanks again for your help.”
“We hope you’re able to get some answers,” Garcia said.
“Me too. Take care.” Sam and Freddie walked back to the car to return to HQ.
“Try not to get discouraged,” Freddie said. “The more seeds we sow, the more likely they are to bear fruit.”
“That’s very profound, young Freddie. And it sounds like something I might’ve said in the past, which means it’s copyrighted.”
He grunted out a laugh. “While you are often profound in your own unique way, that was my own original material. You have permission to use it, though.”