Peace Talks (The Dresden Files, #16)(17)

“I was trying to make it home in time for my shows,” she said, her tone dry.

“Car ended up wrecked, didn’t it?”

“The follies of youthful impatience,” Karrin said, and pointed at her casts. “Been pretty clear about that.”

Bradley nodded. “Talked to your doctor. Says he hasn’t ever seen injuries like yours from a wreck. Too precise. Says they’re clearly directed violence.”

“He’s wrong,” Karrin said. “And violating HIPAA.”

“And your known associate,” Bradley continued, as though she hadn’t spoken. “We got images of him, too.”

“Beautiful picture of you, Dresden,” Rudolph said. “On the sidewalk outside a building where we found a body the next day.” He consulted a little notebook in his pocket. “One Harvey Morrison, CPA.”

Karrin gave him her cop face, and I made do with my wizard face, but it was tough. My stomach had just dropped out. Harvey Morrison had died badly, despite my efforts to save his life. Cops get a little funny about the corpses of murdered men and women, particularly when they’re squares, unconnected to the world of crime.

Failing to save someone isn’t quite the same thing as murdering them—but from the outside, the two can look almost identical.

Bradley continued. “Morrison was a frequent customer at Verity Trust Bank. Which was robbed the next day. His specific vault was opened during the robbery. During which a number of explosions and a great deal of gunfire occurred.” He nodded at the pictures. “Those other images are of a suspect between six foot eight and six foot eleven, presumably one of the bank robbers.” He looked up at me blandly. “ Six … nine? Isn’t it, Dresden?”

“I ate all of my Wheaties every morning at breakfast,” I said.

“Wiseass,” Rudolph hissed. “Keep on cracking wise. I’ve got your ass now.”

“Cracking wise?” I asked him. I shook my head at Bradley and hooked a thumb at Rudolph. “Who talks like that?”

“He might be right,” Bradley said quietly. He looked from me to Karrin. “We’re digging. We’re good at it.”

“You are,” Karrin acknowledged.

Bradley nodded. “Your family’s done good work in this town, Murphy. Might be a good thing for you both if you talked to us before we dig up anything more.”

Karrin didn’t look at me, and I didn’t look at her. We didn’t need to check in on this particular subject. Like most of the rest of the world, the cops didn’t have much time for the world of the supernatural. They would look at us blankly if we tried to tell them about a heist run by demon-possessed, two-thousand-year-old maniacs, and including ourselves, a shapeshifter, a Sasquatch, a one-man army, and a pyromancer. They’d figure we were going for an insanity plea and run us in.

The capacity of humanity to deny what is right in front of it is staggering. Hell, Rudolph had seen a loup-garou tear apart a Chicago police station with his own eyes, and he was still in denial.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Karrin said. “In that picture, I’m just trying to get home out of the storm. I don’t know anything about this accountant.”

“And I barely know anything about anything,” I said. “Except that there are maybe a thousand people in Chicagoland who are six foot eight or taller. These pictures could be of any of them. Hope you got a real big lineup room.”

“And this picture? The one of you?” Bradley asked politely.

“I think I was running to catch a train,” I said. I was trying for guileless.

Bradley clearly wasn’t buying it. He eyed us both and then nodded and let out a breath. “Yeah. Okay.”

Rudolph stood up briskly and said, “Well, we tried.”

Bradley gave Rudolph a steady look. Then he stood and said, quietly, “I’ll be right out. Wait for me.”

“I am not your fucking junior partner,” Rudolph snarled. “I am your superior officer.”

“Yes, sir,” Bradley said. “And I’ll be right out.”

Rudolph gave him a disgusted look. Then he eyed me, pointed at me with his index finger, and said, “I’m looking forward to seeing you locked up, Dresden.”

“Yeah, keep looking,” I told him.

Rudolph smirked at me. Then at Karrin.

She stared at him. She’s got a good stare. Rudolph’s smirk faded and he abruptly left without another word.

“Prick,” Karrin breathed after the door closed behind him. She eyed Bradley and said, “Him? Really?”

Bradley shrugged, a tectonic shift of massive shoulders. “Job’s gotta get done. Someone’s gotta do it.”

“Yeah,” Karrin said quietly.

“Dogs are out,” he said. “Matter of time before they get a scent. You and Dresden both cut it close for a long time. This time you went over the line.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Karrin said.

“Crap,” Bradley replied. He rubbed a hand over his buzzed scalp. “Okay. That’s how you want it, we play it all the way out.”

“Do your job,” Karrin said. “You always have.”

“Yeah.” Bradley shook his head. “Rudolph let it get personal. Unprofessional. Sorry about that.”