Delusion in Death edahr-44

by J. D. Robb

  “I’ve got others. Nothing’s popping. Some in, some out, some alone, most with somebody. But your wit’s the last out before this.”

  He ran it forward six minutes. Eve watched the café door shudder, and the spiderweb spread over the glass. Most people on the street just kept going, one or two flicked the door a glance.

  And one man bustled up, working his PPC as he pulled open the door. Distracted, he started to step in, stopped, goggled, stumbled back out of camera range.

  “He’s the one who called it in,” Feeney told her. “Now you’ve got this guy, paying less attention, pulls the door open, goes on in. See the door there?”

  “Yeah. Looks like he tried getting the hell out again. He didn’t make it.”

  “Not his lucky day,” Feeney commented.

  “Jeni Curve.” Eve stood, studying the ID shot. “I’ll look into it. Did you ID the people who left between Curve going in, Lydia coming out? We may get something from them.”

  “Shot the data down to your unit. I ran them—standard—nothing pops there either.”

  “I’ll add them all to Baxter’s cross. I’ll put it in for you,” she repeated. “Curve doesn’t look crazy.”

  “A lot of people who don’t are.”

  “Ain’t that the fucking truth? Maybe. Maybe. I’ll dig down.”

  Halfway on the route between EDD and Homicide, her comm signaled. “Dallas.”

  “Lieutenant,” Whitney’s admin spoke briskly, “the commander needs you in his office, immediately.”

  “On my way.”

  She backtracked, grabbed an up-glide. Idly studied a couple of women with battered faces she made as street LCs. To her way of thinking their line of work was nearly as dicey as hers. You just never knew when some asshole would decide to punch you in the face.

  In Whitney’s outer office, the admin merely signaled Eve to go straight in. Still she knocked briefly before stepping inside.

  Whitney sat at his desk, his hands folded. Chief of Police Tibble, his long frame suited in black with subtle chalk stripes, stood at the window.

  She didn’t know the third person, but made her as federal as quickly as she’d made the LCs on the glide.

  She thought: Fuck, then settled into resignation.

  It had to happen.

  “Lieutenant Dallas,” Whitney began, “Agent Teasdale, HSO.”

  “Agent.”

  “Lieutenant.”

  In the three or four beats of silence, they sized each other up.

  Teasdale, a slight, delicate woman, wore her long, black hair slicked back in a tail. The forgettable black suit covered a compact body. Low-heeled black boots gleamed like mirrors. Her dark brown eyes tipped up slightly at the corners. The eyes and the porcelain complexion had Eve pegging her as mixed race, leaning Asian.

  “The HSO, through Agent Teasdale, requests to be brought up to speed on the two incidents you’re investigating.”

  “Requests?” Eve repeated.

  “Requests,” Teasdale confirmed in a quiet voice. “Respectfully.” She spread her hands. “May we sit?”

  “I like standing.”

  “Very well. I understand you have reason to distrust, even resent HSO due to the events that occurred in the fall of last year.”

  “Your assistant director was a traitor. Your Agent Bissel a murderer. Yeah, might be some lingering distrust.”

  “As I said, this is understood. I have explained to your superiors the operatives and handlers who were involved in that unfortunate incident have been incarcerated. We have conducted a full and complete internal investigation.”

  “Good for you.”

  Teasdale’s placid expression never changed. “The NYPSD has also had some difficulties. Lieutenant Renee Oberman ran illegal activities, including murder, out of her department for many years before she was discovered, arrested, and incarcerated, along with the officers involved. Their dishonor doesn’t destroy the honor and purpose of the NYPSD.”

  “I know who I’m working with here. I don’t know you.”

  “A valid point. I’ve worked for the HSO for nine years. I was recruited while in graduate school. I specialize in domestic terrorism, and for the last four years have been based here in New York.”

  “That’s great. We don’t believe we’re dealing with any individual or group with a political agenda. I’ll let you know when and if that changes.”

  Teasdale smiled softly. “Politics isn’t the only basis for terrorist activities. The indiscriminate murder of multiple people in public settings is a kind of terrorism as well as homicide. I believe I can help you identify the person or persons responsible, and aid in your capture of same.”

  “I have a solid team, Agent Teasdale.”

  “Do you count among them a terrorist specialist with nine years of training? With nine years of field and laboratory experience? Who also holds advanced degrees in chemistry and who serves Homeland Security as an expert on chemical and biological warfare? You’re welcome to check my bona fides, Lieutenant, as I have yours. I’m useful.”

  “Useful to the HSO.”

  “Yes, and that doesn’t preclude my usefulness to you, your department, and your investigation. The request at this time is to consult and assist, not to overtake.”

  “I can check your bona fides, but who do you work with, report to? And how long does ‘at this time’ run?”

  “I’ll be working alone, as far as HSO contacts, and will report to, and only to, the head of the New York branch, Director Hurtz. You may or may not be aware that Director Hurtz, who moved into the position after the events of last fall, has been most directly responsible for the internal investigation that has led to several arrests and reassignments. I believe Chief Tibble and Director Hurtz are acquainted.”

  “Yes.” Tibble spoke for the first time, his face as carefully schooled as Teasdale’s. “His personal request to me, and my acquaintance with him is the reason you’re here, Agent Teasdale. And as I related to Director Hurtz, your clearance to consult will be the lieutenant’s call.”

  He held up a hand, in that quietly unarguable way he had to cut off her response. “I’m perfectly aware the HSO and the director can, by law and procedure, attach themselves to the investigation, or take it over. As I’m sure you’re aware, as is your director, that doing so will generate considerable difficulties, with relations between the NYPSD and HSO, and in the media.”

  “Yes, sir, that’s very clear.”

  “HSO has not endeared itself to the NYPSD, or anyone in this room save perhaps yourself. If not for my respect for Director Hurtz, I wouldn’t have taken Lieutenant Dallas’s valuable time for this discussion. It’s your call, Lieutenant. You’re free to take as much time as you need to make that call.”

  “Can we have the room, sir?”

  He lifted his eyebrows. “Agent Teasdale. If you’ll excuse us.”

  “Of course.”

  She exited as quiet as smoke.

  “Permission to speak frankly, sir.”

  “Weren’t you?”

  He had her there. “If Teasdale’s bona fides are as she states, and it would be monumentally stupid to lie, she’d be useful. I don’t like HSO. Some of that’s personal, some professional, and some because they’re pushy, arrogant, and tangled in so much red tape investigations are often strangled. I don’t trust them for all the same reasons, and more because they’ve shown that at the end of the day, the public results and opinions are more important than the victims and basic morality.”

  She paused a moment, weighed it all. “But I trust you, sir. I trust both of you without question or hesitation. If you tell me you believe this Hurtz is clean, that you believe he’ll not only keep his focus on finding justice for those involved but also stay the hell out of my way—I’ll take her on.”

  “I’ve known Chad Hurtz for fifteen years, and know him to be a man focused on securing the safety of the country, and I know him to be a man of his word. He’s playing this well, offering us o
ne of his top people—and I’ve already checked her credentials. He’ll keep their involvement low-key, as long as possible.

  “If you agree, he and I will remain in contact, and will share information, and consult on a point-by-point basis if this consultation and dual investigation has merit.”

  She nodded, glanced at Whitney. “Commander?”

  “If you refuse the assistance, I’ll back your decision. If you accept, I’ll make certain the terms remain as agreed upon.”

  “Then she’s in. I’ll want to inform my team of the addition and the agreement. I need to get back to it.”

  “You’re dismissed.”

  Eve went to the door, opened it. “Briefing at eighteen hundred, conference room one, Homicide Division.”

  Teasdale inclined her head. “Thank you. I’ll be there.”

  “Screw it up, you’re gone. No second chances for feds.”

  Teasdale smiled again. “I’ve never needed a second chance.”

  “Let’s hope you keep your record going,” Eve said briskly, and walked away.

  10

  Eve strode into her bullpen and the wall of noise from voices, comps, ’links. A quick scan showed her Detectives Sanchez and Carmichael were among the missing. They’d be out in the field, she assumed, scrambling to handle the cases dumped on them as she’d formed her team.

  Before long, she calculated, they’d have more than they could handle. She’d need to consider pulling in from other divisions, other precincts.

  “Listen up! We’re taking on a consultant from HSO.”

  She let the objections, bitching, disgust roll over her. She didn’t blame her men as she’d had the same reaction herself.

  “It remains our case, our investigation. Agent Teasdale is a domestic terrorist specialist, and she has qualifications I believe we can use. This is my call, so suck it up.”

  She waited a beat. “If, at any time, any of you have a problem—a legitimate problem with Teasdale, come to me. If it’s a problem, I’ll kick her ass. If it’s bullshit, I’ll kick yours.”

  “You know how the feds work, LT.” Jenkinson brooded at his desk. “Let us do all the legwork, put in the hours, bust down the doors, then come in and take it over when we’ve got it plated up like dinner.”

  “If they get greedy, they have to get through me, then Whitney, then Tibble. As for this team? Over a hundred and twenty people are dead, so there will be no petty power plays, no whining and griping. Have your reports ready for the briefing.”

  She walked out again, paused briefly when she was out of sight. She listened to the whining and griping. Let them get it out of their system, she decided, and headed to the conference room.

  She expected to find Peabody, and came up short when she found Roarke working with her partner. She hadn’t expected to deal with this, with him, quite so soon.

  Marriage, she thought. Every bit as complicated and slippery as cop work.

  “Another difficult day.” He looked at her as he spoke, carefully.

  The man, she knew, saw damn near everything.

  “Yeah.”

  “I can’t be of much use just now in EDD, so when you weren’t in your office, I offered Peabody a hand. A lot of faces to go up, again.”

  “Too many. Peabody, take a break.”

  “We’re almost—oh,” she said when she caught the look. “I’ll go check, see if we’ve got anything new in from the lab.”

  Roarke waited until Peabody went out and discreetly shut the door.

  “What is it?”

  “You’re not going to like what I have to tell you. It wasn’t an easy call to make, but it was my call. And it’s the right one—for them.” She nodded toward the boards.

  “What call would that be?”

  “We’re taking on an agent for HSO as a consultant.”

  His eyes went cool, very cool before he turned and walked to the AutoChef. Though he performed the everyday task of programming coffee, Eve knew when he walked away his anger was fierce.

  “If we’re going to fight about it, we have to fight later. There’s no time now. But I need to tell you … Roarke, I need to tell you I know what you did for me last year when you stepped back from taking retribution against the people in HSO who listened and did nothing while my—while Richard Troy beat and raped me. I know what it cost you to do that. I know you did it for me. You put me first. You put us first. I don’t forget it. I won’t ever forget it.”

  “And yet,” he said softly.

  “I can’t put me, or us, ahead of them, all those faces. I can’t, I just won’t, let what happened to me years ago determine how I do my job, for them. It’s already caused us both too much grief and pain. It has to stop. Maybe you’d have made a different call, but—”

  “Yes, because I think more of you than you do.”

  She couldn’t fight it, couldn’t find the fight, only the heart he filled with those simple words. “No one’s ever thought of me the way you do. I don’t forget that either. And I knew when I made the decision it would upset you. You have every right and reason to be upset. I’m sorry.”

  He set aside the coffee he didn’t want. “And yet,” he repeated.

  “Her name is Teasdale. Miyu Teasdale. She’s a domestic terrorist specialist, nine years in. She has advanced degrees in chemistry and biology. She’ll be reporting only to Director Hurtz. Tibble knows him, personally, vouches for him. You look at them. Dig into them, use any means you want. I don’t need to know. After you do, if you find they aren’t as clean as Tibble and Whitney say, if you find anything that causes you to doubt I did the right thing, I’ll break it off. I’ll find a way.”

  “Oh, I’ll look. Believe me.”

  “I didn’t agree easily, and I wouldn’t have agreed except … a hundred and twenty-six dead.”

  “A hundred and twenty-seven. Another died in hospital shortly ago.” And because he saw that instant of sorrow on her face, he picked up the coffee, handed it to her.

  “I need help. Maybe she’ll just be deadweight, or worse an annoyance or distraction. But maybe she’ll make a difference. Or there’ll be more dead, Roarke, and we won’t have enough boards for their faces.”

  “If I look and find something, you’ll end the consultation?”

  “Yes. My word on it.”

  He nodded, then took time to think, to settle, by getting coffee for himself. “It doesn’t sit well, does it?”

  “No. But I’m afraid he’s just getting started, and she’ll have a fresh eye, a supposedly expert eye. And additional resources. Before you say it, I know I could ask you for anything and anyone. Someone equally qualified.”

  “Yes,” he agreed, “and that would sit better.”

  “Probably with both of us. But this agreement keeps HSO’s involvement minimal. It keeps me in charge. They could have moved in, tried to muscle away the whole shot. And while we were playing tug-of-war …” Her eyes went to the boards again.

  He said nothing for a moment, only drank some coffee. Then frowned at the mug. “Why won’t you stock your regular in this thing? It’s not as if you don’t have an unlimited supply of bloody coffee. Word is you married me for it.”

  And with that, she understood the crisis had been averted. “I don’t want to spoil my men.”

  “You’d rather burn all our stomach linings away.”

  “Cops’ guts are tougher than that.” She smiled. “Civilians’ may be more delicate.”

  He stepped to her, flicked a finger down the shallow dent in her chin. “Then you’ll perfectly understand why I’ve ordered food in for the briefing.”

  “You—”

  “Have you eaten since breakfast? I thought not,” he said when she only frowned at him. “I’ll drink your deplorable cop coffee, you’ll eat my food. And we’ll get on.”

  “We’ll get on if it’s pizza.”

  “I know my cop.”

  Yes, he did, she thought. “I talked to Mira.”

  He took her hand now, held i
t.

  “I don’t like the way you maneuvered me into it, even if you were right.”

  He laughed at that, kissed the hand he held. “I love you, Eve. Every contrary inch.”

  “I’m working it out, and I don’t want you to worry. I feel … lighter,” she decided. “I can’t talk about it now.”

  “No need. Feeling lighter is enough.”

  “I just want you to know, I’m getting a grip on it. I’ve got to put it away, get back to this.” She took a breath. “And I’m going to keep doing that. Putting it away, where it belongs, and getting on with who I am, what I am, what we are. You need to do the same.”

  “I’m with you, Lieutenant.”

  “Then I’ll bring Peabody back.” She reached for her comm just as the knock sounded on the door.

  “That’s probably the food. I’ll take care of it.” Roarke walked to the door.

  When it came to food, she thought, cops had noses like blood-hounds. She put her comm away, watched Peabody trot in behind the delivery team.

  Then Jenkinson, Baxter, Reineke.

  “Let them set it up, for Christ’s sake, before you swarm it like locusts. And leave some for the rest. Peabody.”

  Looking mildly concerned she might qualify as “the rest,” and miss out, Peabody hurried over. “Most of us missed lunch.”

  “I’m aware. We have an addition to the team,” Eve began, and laid it out.

  Peabody’s face settled into stubborn lines that slid into a sulk. “I don’t like her.”

  “You haven’t laid eyes on her.”

  “I don’t care, and Teasdale’s a pussy name. A prissy pussy name.”

  “Really? And Peabody’s a name that makes bad guys shiver in fear?”

  “If they know what’s good for them. Besides, she’s HSO, and that makes her a prissy pussy in a bad black suit.”

  Well, Eve thought, her partner had the suit right. “Deal with it, and her. Now grab a slice, then finish the board.”

  She started to grab one herself but moved off when someone called her away. Instead, she found a reasonably quiet corner and began her run on Jeni Curve.

  She saw Teasdale come in, take her time crossing the room. The HSO agent would have to weather the flat, suspicious looks.