Killer Instinct (Instinct #2)(38)

It was only fitting that we were next to a boxing ring, as I practically had to separate the two and send them to neutral corners. Pritchard was laying into Elizabeth for “going rogue” and not bringing any backup to the house in Pelham, as well as avoiding him and his repeated calls after she “nearly blew up the damn neighborhood.”

Elizabeth was countering with how she couldn’t know if the tip from this guy, Eli, at Starbucks was for real. The mayor couldn’t even fully vouch for it, after all. “And it was his goddamn source!”

The bottom line was that Pritchard wanted to suspend Elizabeth until further notice. He couldn’t trust her. Sure, she’d saved his life, but he was convinced she’d also gotten the kid, Gorgin, killed. Gorgin could’ve been the key to eliminating the cell responsible for the bombings. Now they had nothing to go on, said Pritchard. Everything and everyone was reduced to ash in the blast. Forget dental records. “And that AK-47 you grabbed? It came back clean from the lab. We don’t even have one fucking fingerprint!”

“Yeah, but we do have this,” said Elizabeth, reaching into her pocket. She pulled out a folded piece of white paper, handing it to Pritchard. “This was on the guy with the AK-47.”

I craned my neck to look. It was an ATM receipt from Chase Bank.

“Do we know the branch?” asked Pritchard.

Elizabeth knew that and then some. “Penn Station, main concourse,” she said. “I’ve spoken with their security office already. We should have footage matching the time stamp by tomorrow morning.”

Pritchard nodded. It was definitely a step up from his yelling at her but well short of anything approaching a compliment. Nice work, for instance. After all, it’s not like the guy with the AK-47 handed her the receipt before trying to kill her. I figured the least I could do for Elizabeth was to point this out.

I turned to her. “So with the house about to explode at any second you still stayed behind to search this guy’s pockets?”

“Shut up, Reinhart,” said Pritchard.

Mission accomplished. I shrugged. “Just saying.”

“It doesn’t change anything,” he said.

“Actually,” I replied, “it could change everything.”

“I’m not talking about the investigation,” he said. “You know what I mean.”

I did. So did Elizabeth. Pritchard was talking about her suspension, and she was about to take the reins back from me to argue it. We all understood what she wanted—the chance to track down the mayor’s informant, Eli, and find out how he’s connected to Gorgin and what else he knows. It made sense.

Still, Elizabeth had barely gotten her first word out when I interrupted her. She wasn’t going to win this battle with Pritchard. He was stubborn. He was pissed. Plus, he had home-field advantage. Who the hell turns his Manhattan townhouse into Operation Desert Storm?

A guy who lives to fight. That’s who.

Elizabeth could’ve either fallen on her sword or waved the white flag. At least, that was the conventional way to look at it.

Screw conventional.





CHAPTER 52


“WHAT THE hell was that?” asked Elizabeth.

She was hopping mad. Literally. The second we reached the sidewalk outside Pritchard’s townhouse she was right up in my face, rocking up and down on the small heels of her flats so fast she actually got airborne a few times.

“That was a compromise,” I said. “Pritchard doesn’t have to look at you for a few days, but you’re not actually suspended.”

“I was standing right there. I know what you said.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” she said. “That’s the problem.”

“This isn’t going to be a gender thing, is it? I know you can fight your own battles.”

“Then why didn’t you let me? And where do you get off promising Pritchard that I won’t go hunting for this Eli guy? That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“No, you’re not,” I said.

“Why?”

“Because I promised you wouldn’t.”

Elizabeth raised her hands up like she was squeezing a basketball really hard. Or my neck. She officially wanted to strangle me now. “For Christ’s sake, how many of those whiskeys did you have back at the restaurant?” she asked.

Not nearly enough.

“The reason you won’t be tracking down Eli is because that’s what I’m going to be doing,” I said.

“So why can’t I help you? We’ll do it together.”

“Sure, like old times,” I said. “Except you’re going to be too busy doing something else. I need to borrow you for a couple of days.”

“Borrow me?”

“It’s a figure of speech.”

“You’re right,” she said. “This is going to be a gender thing.”

Elizabeth folded her arms and stared at me, waiting for my witty retort. There wasn’t one. I was too preoccupied with going over the checklist inside my head, the things I could and couldn’t tell her. I was having a hard time. This from a guy who memorized pi out to fifty digits when he was eleven. Just to see if I could.

Yeah, I know. I was a weird kid.