Treachery in Death

Twenty

HER LIEUTENANT AND BIX HAD BEEN GONE about ten minutes when Lilah saw her window. Four of the squad were in the field, Brinker off on one of his many lengthy trips to Vending or the bathroom. Sloan and Asserton sat at their desks plugging away at paperwork. Freeman and Marcell had just gone into the break room.

Lilah picked up a report from her desk, walked briskly to Renee’s door, shoved the master she’d palmed in and out of the slot. And walked inside. The minute she had the door closed, she stuck the report in her back pocket.

Five minutes, she told herself. Tops. Freeman and Marcell were bound to bullshit in the break room that long.

She hit the desk first, crouching down to the locked bottom drawer. And using the skill she’d learned from her doomed brother, picked the lock.

It shouldn’t have surprised her to find so many personal items the rest of the squad was denied. High-end—way high-end—face enhancements, a top-of-the-line VR unit with a collection of relaxation and sex programs.

She’d already judged Renee as useless and vain.

She ran her fingers under drawers, along their sides, checked for false bottoms. She found a little cash, but nothing over the line.

She closed the drawer, secured it again. Careful not to disturb Renee’s pristine organization, she riffled through others. Flipped through file discs, opened and scanned a memo book, an appointment book before moving on to the furniture, the counters, the windows.

She knew Renee had a hide in there. Knew it hid more than expensive lip dye and eye shadow, more than fancy imported perfume that sold for a paycheck an ounce.

Her gut told her she’d hit the time to bail—sweat had begun to trickle down the center of her back.

One minute more, she told herself, easing the seascape off the wall to check behind it, to examine its back, its frame.

The minute she replaced it, carefully adjusting it so it hung perfectly true, it struck her.

“You idiot,” she muttered. “You wasted those psych courses.”

She looked at the portrait of Commander Marcus Oberman, in full dress blues.

Too heavy to take off the wall on her own, she judged. Not unless she dragged the table under it out of the way to gain more leverage and a better angle.

She managed to get a hand behind the frame, ease it out an inch—and cursed herself for not thinking to bring in a penlight.

She braced the portrait with one hand, ran the other behind it while trying to angle her head to see. Eased it up another inch, praying she wouldn’t cock it off its support.

Her searching hand bumped something, and the surprise had her pulling the bottom of the portrait up in a short little jerk. Her breath sucked in as it continued smoothly up, hinging at the top. And revealing the safe behind it.

She grabbed her ’link, used its camera to take several shots. Even if she’d had the time, was willing to risk the time, her thievery skills were limited to picking simple locks, not to breaking what looked to be a complex wall safe.

Taking it slow, she brought the portrait to rights. Stepped back, checked the alignment, the position. Wiped her damp palms on her thighs. At the door she tipped one of the blind slats a fraction.

Asserton and Sloan still at their desks. Brinker still wherever Brinker went a dozen times a day. Freeman and Marcell still in the break room. All clear.

Move, she ordered herself. Go now.

She pulled the file out of her pocket, stepped out, closed the door. A quick slide of the master re-engaged the lock. Hearing the quiet click, she walked briskly toward her desk. She was halfway there when the break room door opened. She sat down, aimed her eyes at her screen as if checking her data. And considered her options.

Business as usual, she reminded herself. Head down, ass in the chair. And when her shift was over, she’d use a public ’link on the way home to contact Dallas.

When Eve walked back into her office, Mira turned from the window.

“Oh, good. I didn’t know if you’d been able to make it down to observe. Do you think—”

“What are you doing?” Mira interrupted.

Eve saw what she’d missed through the interview high. The doctor was pissed.

“About?”

“Why are you deliberately baiting a man you believe has already killed at least two people in a matter of days? A man with no sense of urgency, nerves, or regrets regarding those murders? A man who has every reason to see you as an obstacle and a threat, to himself, but more important, to the woman he follows with absolute loyalty, all while knowing that woman has every motive, and would have no compunction, to order him to eliminate you.”

“Because it’s my job.”

“Don’t use that on me. I know you. There are certainly other ways to build and close this case, ways I have no doubt you’re pursuing. You enjoyed baiting him. You want him—through Renee Oberman—to try to kill you.”

“Okay.” Eve moved to the AutoChef, programmed some of the herbal tea Mira drank. “I think you could use this.”

“Don’t you dare try to brush me off.”

“I’m not.” Eve set the tea on her desk, programmed coffee for herself. “I’m not,” she repeated. “You’re not wrong. You’re rarely wrong. I did enjoy it. Hell, I relished it. And I do want him to come at me. But I’m not wrong either. All of that is my job. Okay, maybe not the relish, but I’m entitled to some perks.”

“This isn’t a joke, Eve.”

“You’re damn fucking skippy it’s not. They’re cops, Doctor Mira, and cops don’t roll so easy. Bix sure as hell isn’t going to roll on Renee because I ask nice or the PA offers him a sweet deal. She’s his direct superior—his commanding officer. She’s given him a mission, made him important to her—made him her right hand, and that’s a powerful seduction. She’s created an atmosphere where they’re above the rest. Elite. Like ... like Special Forces—which he applied for and couldn’t get. They do what needs to be done—and his CO decides what that is. Following orders is part of his code, and his code is his god.”

“You can’t tell me the only way to stop them, all of them, is to make yourself an irresistible target.”

“Not the only way, no, but it’s a sure way, not only to stop them, but to carve them out of this department, to absolutely crush them. To make certain Renee, Bix, Freeman—every one of them—pays the heaviest price allowed by law. Every one of them, because believe me I will weed out and carve out every one of them.”

Eve held up a hand before Mira could speak. “I’m under orders, too. Chief Tibble ordered me to take Renee Oberman and every cop in her network down hard. Bix isn’t the only one who takes orders seriously. I will take them down, and I will do everything in my power to minimize the damage to this department when I do.”

Eve picked up the tea again. Mira wasn’t just pissed, she’d noted, she was tired and . . . sad.

“Here. Maybe you could sit down.”

Mira took the tea, sat. “I’m so angry with you.”

“So noted. She has strings to pull. She has to have a judge, probably a couple of politicians. She’s got lines in the courts, in the department, maybe the lab, maybe the morgue. I’m stacking it up against her, and the rest of them, but I have to weigh that stack against her lines. She could wiggle out of this—evidence gets lost, lab results doctored, the wrong motion filed, wits vanish or recant.”

“This entire investigation began because of a statement by what we’d agree is a sterling witness.”

Struggling not to be annoyed—did she tell Mira how to do her job?—Eve ticked points off on her fingers.

“Peabody never saw her. Bix’s name was never mentioned. Garnet’s dead. And if this isn’t nailed shut by the time it becomes known what she did see and hear?” Eve shook her head. “I’m her lieutenant. I’m her partner. Do you think I’d leave her ass hanging out with a target on it?”

“No.” Mira finally sipped her tea. “No, I know you wouldn’t.”

“Bix would stick his blaster in his ear and fire before he’d turn on Renee. Am I wrong?”

“No. I believe he would sacrifice himself, and consider it honor, to shield her. Which means, if he does try to kill you—and you survive—you only have him.”

“I’ve got some geeks up my sleeve, but even without that, collaring him puts a big crack in her wall. She’s disgraced, her career takes a hit it can’t recover from. And we open the floodgates to the money. Garnet’s, Bix’s, hers, the others. Explain that, bitch. She’d be scrambling. More, I think I worked Bix into casting a hard shadow on her.”

Calmer, Mira sipped again. “You showed him, by his own words and demeanor, to be a soldier—one who follows orders without question, one with intense loyalty to Renee. Not a man who goes outside his CO, who breaks ranks and acts on his own volition.”

“So I also have a top shrink up my sleeve, because you’d testify to that, in really big, fancy words. Janburry and Delfino, the cops on Garnet’s case, they’ll draw in on Bix. If Bix makes a run at me, he’s going to end up with his face on the sidewalk and a cop’s boot on his neck. I hope it’s mine, but I’ll settle for any cop’s boot.”

“I know she observed as well. You wanted her to so you could let her know you’re looking in her direction. You did that because it will unnerve her, anger her, and—you hope—push her into giving Bix his green light. But you also did it, Eve, because it’s personal.”

“It’s absolutely fucking down to the bone personal.” And a relief to say it. A goddamn thrill to say it. “She’s spit on everything I value, on everything I am. On everything I made myself out of a nightmare she can’t even conceive of. It matters.”

“Yes,” Mira murmured. “Yes, it does.”

“When I take her down I’m doing it for me, for the badge, for the man who trained me, taught me, who helped make me someone who deserves to wear it. But that’s only part of it. I’m doing it for you, goddamn it.”

“Eve—”

“Be quiet,” she ordered, and stunned them both. She had to get it out, she realized. Had to, here and now, let this vicious stew of emotion roiling in her guts spill over.

“I’m doing it for Whitney, for Peabody, for every man and woman in my bullpen. I’m doing it for every cop she killed and a dead junkie. I’m doing it for every cop who deserves to wear the badge. And though I’ll do everything in my power to bring them all down, I’m doing it for every cop she turned into a disgrace.”

She stopped herself, took a breath. “If you know me, I guess you should know that.”

“I do. I know that very well. I let it be personal, too. You’re personal to me.”

Eve felt the little pinch under her heart. “Are we good?”

“I can’t help but wish you hadn’t made your case so well; then I could still be angry.” Mira rose. “I’m not going to bother to tell you to be careful. I don’t need to tell you to be smart. Do you have questions for me?”

“You’ve already answered one of them. Just one other. I figure I know the answer, but it never hurts. Does she know I’m daring her to sic her dog on me?”

“While she knows now you’re looking at her, and looking hard, she’d never put her life at risk. I don’t believe she can conceive of you doing so, not for something as unimportant to her as justice, as honor. If she sics her dog on you, she’ll believe it’s her idea. And it should be soon.”

“Okay.” The sooner, the better.

“Are you having nightmares, Eve? Flashbacks?”

“No. Not really. Not in awhile. It feels, mostly, done. It’s never all the way done.” Still down there, she thought, down in the deep, but ... “It feels mostly done.”

“All right.” Mira took Eve’s hand in hers for a squeeze. “Thanks for the tea.”

Alone, Eve started to check in with Peabody, then Janburry tapped on her doorjamb.

“You clear, Lieutenant?”

“Yeah. Sorry, have you been waiting?”

“No problem. Might’ve had a little one if you’d managed to get a confession on our dead guy.”

“That’s going to take a little more work. I just set up the play, passed you the ball. Could you close the door, Detective Delfino?”

After she had, Delfino leaned back against it. “Renee Oberman,” she said. “Commander Oberman’s baby girl.”

“Is that how you read it?”

“He’s the reader.” She jerked a thumb at her partner. “Me? I smell it, like shit and blood in the water.”

“She’s got a descriptive idiom,” Janburry commented. “I’m wondering if we can borrow your homework, Lieutenant, seeing as we missed a couple days of school on this.”

“I haven’t been given full authorization, but I can tell you we’re both looking in the same direction. I could give you this.” She took a disc out of her pocket. “It would save you some time. But before I do, let’s make a deal.”

“We’re listening,” Janburry told her.

“You can have Bix when it’s time to haul him out of the shit and blood in the water, but Renee’s mine. Not because she’s the bigger catch. You could just say it’s personal. The rest, well, share and share alike.”

“How much rest is there?”

“Still working on that. Do we have a deal?”

The partners exchanged a look. “Is there a secret handshake?” Janburry asked.

“We’ll settle for regular.” After they’d shaken on it, Eve offered the disc. “You’ll find multiple false IDs, multiple secret accounts, and considerable real property tracked back to Renee, Bix, Garnet, and others we’ve nailed down.”

“How involved is IAB?” Delfino wanted to know.

“Thoroughly. Lieutenant Webster is point man there, but his captain has been briefed, as have Commander Whitney and Chief Tibble. This is NTK. Nobody else needs to know until we take them down.”

“Blood and shit in the water,” Delfino repeated. “That’s what dirty cops smell like. Cops who kill cops? They have a special stench over that.”

“He’s going to come after you.” Janburry studied Eve. “You know that.”

“I’m counting on that.”

“You want cover?”

“I’ve got it, thanks. But I will contact you if and when. Whoever takes him down, he’s your collar. That’s the deal.”

When her office emptied out again, Eve flipped the lock. She deserved a little reward, a little boost before she got back down to business.

She took a tool from her desk and hunkered down beside her recycler. But when she removed the panel, no sealed evidence bag of chocolate waited for her.

“Damn it! This blows. This seriously blows.”

Sulking, mourning the loss, she stared at what she’d considered a brilliant hiding place. Her mistake, she admitted, had been leaving her stash in place while she’d gone on vacation.

She’d given the despicable Candy Thief too much time and opportunity to search and consume.

Now she not only wouldn’t get her reward, her boost, but she had to find another hide.

She replaced the panel, tossed her tool back in her desk drawer. She gave herself another thirty seconds to sulk before contacting Peabody.

“Status?”

“I’m a little more than halfway through. Devin had one hell of a collection. Maybe this is a dead end. If she kept documentation or notes, one of Renee’s crew probably found it and destroyed it.”

“Keep at it. Follow it through. If they didn’t find and destroy it, it’s because she hid it well.” Eve gave her recycler a dirty look. “I’ve got some things I need to finish up and tie up here, then I’ll be in. How about the e-team? Are they—Hold on,” she ordered when she heard the faint click at her door.

Rising, she drew her weapon.

Roarke opened the door, cocked his head. “Well now, that isn’t the greeting I’d hoped for.”

She let out a breath, holstered her weapon. “Keep at it, Peabody,” she said. “Tag me if you find anything. Otherwise I’ll see you when I get there.” She broke transmission.

“That door was locked.”

“And your point is?” He stepped over, kissed her thoroughly. “I didn’t knock as I thought you might be taking one of your sprawled-on-the-floor-unconscious naps.”

“Maybe I need a better lock. Maybe I need to start locking it more often.” She dropped into her chair. “Not that it would stop the Candy Thief. My stash is gone.”

“You were going to stun your Candy Thief?”

“I might, come the day. But no, I thought Renee might have snapped and sent Bix down to try to throw me out of my own office window. I gave her plenty of incentive when I had Bix in Interview, and I wanted a reward. I want candy.”

“I haven’t any on me. Get something from Vending.”

“I want my candy.”

He smothered a laugh. “There, there.”

“Bite me.” But she shook it off. “Why are you here? Why is everyone in my office today?”

“I’m here as I also deserve a reward. As do Feeney and McNab.”

“You pulled it off.”

“We did. For the most part they did, but I managed a few flourishes.”

“We need to set it up, need to get IAB tapped in.”

“Feeney’s dealing with it. It’s his baby, after all. Or more McNab’s. Ian flashed some brilliance today. And what have you been up to, Lieutenant?”

“Too many meetings. I’d go psycho if I had to face days stuffed with meetings. There are all these people in them.”

“Typically, yes.”

She filled him in quickly, but paused when she’d moved onto the interview with Bix—and when Roarke walked to her window, looked out.

As Mira had done.

“I went around about my strategy, purposes, reasonings with Mira, who wasn’t thrilled with me after. Until I laid it out. Do I have to lay it out for you?”

“No. I understand your strategy, purposes, reasonings. I imagine Mira did as well. But it takes a bit to push through and accept them.”

“Roarke, I’m so covered I’m practically wearing a blast-proof body glove.”

“I know it.” He turned back to her. “But it takes a bit. You know, you’re a lean one, darling, but it would take some doing for anyone to throw you out of a window this size.”

She smiled, and because she understood he needed it, leaned into him when he stepped over to brush a hand through her hair.

“But since you’re my lean one, I’ll stick close for the time being. I’ve some things to see to. I’m going to find a place to see to them.”

“I’ve got to write a couple reports, update my board and book. You can use the visitor’s area.”

He looked at the pathetic chair. “Do you actually call this an area?”

“No.”

“I’ll find a space.”

Lilah continued to keep her head down and her ass in the chair when Renee and Bix came back in—and when Renee, her face thunderous, closed herself in her office with him.

Nearly end of shift, she thought. Not much longer now. She considered requesting some personal time and ducking out early. But her lieutenant frowned on such requests, and in her current mood might make an issue of it.

Better just to ride the road.

She said nothing when Manford and Tulis came back from the field, and Tulis dropped files on her desk.

It was, she knew, expected she write up the fives, clean up the report, file it. The lieutenant considered her field men too valuable to sweat over paperwork.

She started in on it, telling herself it would keep her busy, distract her from watching the time. She’d eaten up that time when Renee came out and walked straight to Lilah’s desk.

Though her heart took a tumble, Lilah looked up placidly. “Yes, ma’am?”

“You’re with Bix,” Renee said briskly.

“With Bix, Lieutenant?”

“As I said. We’re short a man, if you’ve forgotten one of your squad went down. Do you have a problem with field work, Detective? I was under the impression you were eager to break away from your desk.”

“Yes, ma’am!” She infused her voice with enthusiasm. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“Bix will give you the details en route. You’re cleared for OT, should it be necessary.”

Bix stood, looking at Lilah with his flat-eyed stare. “Let’s get it done.”

This is bullshit, bullshit, Lilah thought as she forced herself up to fall into step with him. She’d left some sort of tell, or one of the others had seen her go in, come out, had given the alert. Or . . .

Didn’t matter how, she thought. She was made.

“Where are we going?”

“One-man cook shop on Avenue D. We’re going to pick up the chef, put some pressure on him, see where it goes.”

Bullshit, bullshit, Lilah thought again.

“Something you and Garnet were working on? Look, I’m sorry about Garnet. I know the two of you worked pretty close.”

“He knew the score.” Bix stepped into the elevator, and since it was crowded with cops, Lilah got on with him.

She’d be damned if she’d be led like a lamb to the slaughter, and every instinct told her she’d been slated to be put down.

Quickly she replayed every minute she’d spent in Renee’s office, every move made. She’d left everything exactly as it had been. Besides, if there had been something out of order, Renee couldn’t know who ...

Unless she did monitor the squad room, and not just when she was in her office. And if she monitored the squad room, she could have her office on monitor. She could’ve seen everything.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

“Have you dealt with the chef before?” As she asked Lilah tugged at the neck of her top as if plagued by the heat. It wasn’t much of a stretch.

“Yeah. I’ll handle him. You’re along for ballast.” He cut his gaze down to her when she began to hyperventilate. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Sorry. Claustrophobic. I . . .” She popped off the elevator, shoving cops aside when the doors opened. She’d have run then, but Bix was right beside her. Instead she lowered her head between her knees. “Couldn’t breathe.”

“How the hell did you get on the force?”

She let his disgust roll off her back. All the better if he thought her weak and useless. “Look, I’m a good cop. I just have some trouble with tight spaces. I’ll take the glide down, meet you in the garage.”

“We’ll take the glides.” He curled a hand around her arm, steered her toward a down glide.

Duck into a bathroom, she thought, call for backup. And if he followed her in, he’d have her trapped. She jerked her arm, but his grip only tightened. “Hands off, Bix. I can stand on my own.”

“Probably faint at the sight of blood.”

“Up yours.” Lilah elbowed her way down the glide, trying to put space between them. Bix stuck with her like Velcro.

They’d have to switch to one of the garage elevators soon, she calculated. Or the stairs. Where did he plan to do it? Not in Central. But once he got her out ...

So she wouldn’t let him get her out.

“Hey.” She whirled on him. “Keep your hands off my ass.”

“I never—”

She slapped him, hard enough the crack of flesh on flesh drew as much attention as her shouted protest. “Goddamn asshole!” There were plenty of smirks as she shoved down the glide.

He made a grab for her, might have yanked her back, but a couple of cops—one a female uniform who looked like she could bench-press a maxibus—blocked his way.

She heard the shouts, the curses behind her, glanced back. His eyes were absolutely calm as he bulled his way through and closed the distance she’d gained.

She went with instinct and ran.

She leaped on the next glide, slithering and coiling through other passengers like a snake. Lose him, lose him, find a hole, call for help. Sprint straight out on the next level, she told herself. She’d always been fast.

When another check behind told her so was he, she shifted to push through. She broke clear, took one quick heartbeat to gauge the best direction. The roar behind her came an instant before someone plowed into her, propelled by Bix’s violent forward progress. Lilah threw a hand out to catch herself, but her legs shot from under her.

For one breathless second she watched the dull silver steel of the glide rushing toward her. Her arms came up, an instinctive attempt to shield her face, but her shoulder took the first vicious hit. For an instant the world revolved—ceiling to floor—then it exploded when her head struck the ridged steel.

She went tumbling, tumbling, bonelessly to the unforgiving floor below.

Nearly ready to close it down at Central, Eve snatched at her signaling’link. She’d hoped Peabody, struggled against annoyance when she saw Webster on the display.

“Dallas.”

“Detective Strong just took a header off a down glide between three and four.”

Eve shoved to her feet. “How?”

“Not yet determined, but Bix is being held.”

“He fucking pushed her—in Central?”

“Not yet determined. Conflicting accounts.”

“Is she alive?”

“Unconscious, beat up from the fall. On her way to Angel’s. IAB gets a shot at Bix. Renee’s already running interference. We’ll review the security discs, keep him under wraps for now.”

“Is Strong covered?”

“She was in the bus and away before I got word.”

“I’ll cover her.” Eve slammed out of the office, zeroed in on Baxter. “I want you and Trueheart at Angel’s ten minutes ago. You cover a Detective Lilah Strong who’s being transported there with injuries from a fall. You cover her like skin on bone. No medicals alone with her, no other cops near her. This is a direct order, and I don’t care if God Himself countermands it, you will follow it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Go now. I’ll be right behind you.”

As she moved—back into her office to grab the jacket she’d shed while she worked—she tagged Roarke. “Garage. Hurry.” She clicked off, then called in a friend.

“Dallas.” Dr. Louise Dimatto beamed at her. “How—”

Struggling into the jacket, Eve switched her ’link from hand to hand. “I need you at Angel’s Hospital asap. Incoming patient, transported from Central, Detective Lilah Strong. Injuries from a fall.”

“How—”

“I don’t know her condition. I need you to get there, Louise, and to take her. Her life’s on the line. I need you to report as her doctor, and I need you to fix her. I don’t want anyone near her you don’t know and trust with your life. Not another doctor, nurse, orderly, not a bedpan near her you don’t trust. Baxter and Trueheart are on their way there now. No other cops get near her without my clearance. None.”

“I’m on my way. I’ll call ahead, set it up.”

“Thanks.”

She sprinted from floor to glide, from glide to elevator, and across the garage where Roarke waited.

“How fast can you get us to Angel’s Hospital?”

“Very. Strap in.”