Ceremony in Death (In Death #5)(69)

“The things I said — I shouldn’t have.” He pulled his hands free to scrub them hard over his face. “Jesus, Dallas. I’m sorry.”

“Did you mean them?” It was out before she could stop it. She held up a hand, turned away, stared blindly out the window.

“I wanted to mean them. I was pissed.” He crossed to her, his hands flapping uselessly. “I got no excuse,” he began. He touched her, then snatched his fingers away from her shoulder when she cringed. “I got no excuse,” he said again after a steadying breath. “And you got a right to step back from me. I jumped hard where I shouldn’t have jumped.”

“You don’t trust me now.” She skimmed the back of her hand over her cheek, ashamed the single tear had gotten past her guard.

“That’s bullshit, Dallas. There’s nobody I trust more. Look, goddamn it, it takes a laser hit to get me to apologize to my own wife. I’m telling you I’m sorry.” Impatient now, he grabbed her arm, pulled her around. She froze. Her eyes were bright, tears sheening them but not, thank Christ, falling. “Don’t go female on me, Dallas. I can’t kick myself in the ass much harder than I already am.”

He jerked up his chin, tapped a finger on it. “Go ahead. Free shot. We won’t say anything about you punching out a superior officer.”

“I don’t want to hit you.”

“Goddamn it, I outrank you. I said take your shot.”

A ghost of a smile flitted around her mouth. He looked so fierce, she thought, those drooping camel eyes sparking with temper and frustration. “Maybe after you shave. That stubble’d skin my knuckles.”

Relief flooded through him at the slight curve of her lips. “You’re going soft. Living the high life with that rich Irish son of a bitch.”

“I beat hell out of a sparring droid last night. One of Roarke’s finest.”

“Yeah?” Pride swelled in him, ridiculously.

She tucked her tongue in her cheek. “I pretended it was you.”

He grinned, took out the bag of candied almonds from his pocket, offered it. “E-detectives don’t have to use their fists. They use their brains.”

“You taught me to use both.”

“And to follow orders,” he added, his eyes resting on hers again. “I’d have been ashamed of you if you’d forgotten that. You did right, Dallas, for Frank, for the department. For me,” he said and watched her eyes swim again. “Don’t do that.” His voice shook with the plea. “Don’t start that shit. That’s an order.”

She swiped the back of her hand under her nose. “I’m not doing anything.”

He waited a moment, just to be sure she wasn’t going to lose it and embarrass them both. When her eyes cleared, he nodded in both relief and approval. “Good.” He jiggled the bag in his hand. “Now, are you going to let me in?”

She opened her mouth, shut it.

“I’ve seen Whitney,” he told her. Feeney found he wanted to smile. This was the cop he’d trained. Solid, sturdy, and straight. “Chewed him out in his own kitchen.”

“Did you?” She lifted her brows. “I’d like to have seen it.”

“Trouble was, once it was over, I had to agree with him. He’d picked the best cop for the job. I know you’ve been busting ass to push IAD out of the picture, clear Frank. Me,” he added. “And I know you’ve been working on finding out who did him and Alice.” He had to take a breath because it hurt, still hurt. “I want in, Dallas. I’m going to tell you straight, I need in to clear this out of my gut. Whitney said it was up to you.”

The tension seeped out of her. She could give him this, give both of them this. “Let’s get to work.”

Eve was so pleased to have Selina Cross in Interview, she’d missed anticipating the obvious bonus of having her represented by Louis Trivane. She flashed grins at both of them as she secured the door to Interview Room A.

“Ms. Cross, I appreciate your cooperation. Mr. Trivane.”

“Eve — “

“Lieutenant Dallas,” she corrected, snapping off the grin. “We’re not socializing here.”

“You know each other.” Selina’s eyes went icy, pinned her lawyer.

“Your representative knows my husband on a social level. I’m acquainted with a number of attorneys in the city, Ms. Cross. This doesn’t affect my or their job performance. We’ll go on record.”

Eve engaged the recorder, recited the pertinent data. After reading the revised Miranda, she sat. “You’ve exercised your right to an attorney, Ms. Cross.”

“I certainly have. I’ve already been harassed by you twice, Lieutenant Dallas. I prefer that this continued harassment go on record.”

“Me, too.” Eve smiled. “You were acquainted with Robert Mathias, also known as Lobar.”

“He was Lobar,” Selina corrected. “It was his chosen name.”

“Was is the operative word, seeing as he’s in a refrigerated unit at the morgue. And so is Thomas Wineburg. Are you acquainted with him?”

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

“Well, that’s interesting. He was a member of your cult.”