Promises in Death (In Death #28)(13)

“Yes, we’re—he’s expecting you.”

Once again, Eve felt cop eyes on her. This time she shifted, met them, one by one as the routine activity in the squad room stopped. She saw anger, resentment, grief, and a measurement. Are you good enough to stand for one of ours?

And through a glass wall she saw the man she assumed was Delong rise from his desk and start out.

He stood a little under average height, looked mid-forties and fit—strong through the shoulders. He wore a suit, dark gray with a white shirt, gray tie. A crop of wavy black hair swept back from a thin face that showed strain around the eyes and mouth.

“Lieutenant, Detective.” He offered a handshake to both. “Please come back.”

Silence followed them into the glass-walled room. Delong shut the door. “First, let me say you’ll have complete cooperation from me and the squad. Anything you need, any time you need it.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ve already copied all of Detective Coltraine’s case files, and cleared EDD to take her electronics. I also have copies of her personnel file, and my evaluations.” He picked up a pouch. Peabody took it, slipped it into her file bag. “You can use my office to talk to the squad, or one of our boxes. There’s a small conference room upstairs, if that works better.”

“I don’t want to put you out of your office, Lieutenant, or cause your men to feel they’re being interrogated by another cop. The conference room would be fine. I’m sorry for your loss, Lieutenant. I know it’s hard to lose a cop under your command.”

“Hard enough if she’d gone down in the line. At least then, you know. But this . . . Is there anything you can tell me?”

“We believe she was ambushed in the stairwell of her building, taken down to the basement. We haven’t found her weapon. It may have been used to kill her. What was she working on?”

“A robbery in Chinatown, a break-in, electronics store—a couple cases of pocket ’links and PPCs were taken, a carjack—armed. It’s all in the files.”

“Did she report any threats against her?”

“No. No, she didn’t. I have an open-door policy. We’re a small squad. If something’s up, I usually hear about it.”

“Who was she partnered with?”

“We work as a squad. She’d have worked with everyone at some time. I usually paired her with Cleo. Detective Grady. They had a good rhythm. But she was on with O’Brian for the break-in.”

“How’d she get along with the rest of the squad?”

“She slid right in. We had some ribbing going on. Southern transplant, and her looks. But she held her own, and earned respect. I’m going to say my squad runs pretty damn smooth. Ammy fit it.”

“What kind of cop was she?”

He sighed a little. “She was solid. A detail cop. Organized, good eye. She’d work a case through, no bitching about OT, no griping over paperwork. She was an asset. She cleared her share of cases. She wasn’t flashy, didn’t need the big collar. She was steady. Did her job.”

“And her personal life?”

“She wasn’t flashy there, either. Everybody knew she was involved with Morris. We got a squad of four here. It’s hard to keep secrets. She was happy. If she had trouble, she didn’t share it, she didn’t show it.”

“Why did she transfer out of Atlanta?”

“I asked her, the way you would. She told me she’d started to feel as if she’d gotten into a rut, that she needed a change of scene, of routine. I wish I had answers. I wish I had something clear-cut to give you. I know your reputation, Lieutenant. Detective,” he added with a nod to Peabody. “While part of me wants my team on this case, I know Ammy’s in good hands.”

“Thank you. If you’d direct us to the conference room, we’ll set up. If her most usual partner, Detective Grady’s available, we can talk to her first.”

“I’ll take you up.”

The room boasted a single long table, a lot of creaky chairs, two wall screens, a wide whiteboard, and an aged AutoChef.

Peabody tried the coffee, blanched. “It’s worse than ours. I didn’t think that was possible. I’m going to hit Vending for a soft drink. You want one?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

While she waited, Eve thought of Delong. She understood. If Coltraine had gone down in the line, under his command, there would be guilt and grief and anger. But he’d know why. The bad guy got the edge that day. He’d know who, and even if that bad guy needed to be chased down, he’d know.

She set her recorder and her notebook on the table. Took out her PPC to refresh herself on Detective Cleo Grady.

Thirty-two, Eve mused. Detective third grade with eight years in. New York transplant from Jersey. No marriages, no cohabs, no children. Several commendations, and a handful of disciplinary slaps. Part of Delong’s squad for three years, transferring at her own request from SVU. Parents retired to Florida. No sibs.

She glanced up when Cleo rapped on the doorjamb. “Detective Grady, Lieutenant.”

“Have a seat.”

It showed in the eyes, Eve thought. The anger and the resentment. And in the tight line of the mouth. Cleo wore her streaked blond hair short, straight, sleek, and showed off a couple of winking blue studs in her earlobes. The eyes, a deep, almost navy blue, stayed level with Eve as she crossed the room.