Treachery in Death (In Death #32)(86)

She drank some coffee, set it aside. “But none of that matters. Festering wound, pig, she doesn’t get to decide.”

Roarke cupped her face. “He’d have killed you if he could, and enjoyed it. Another cop may be primary on his murder, but Garnet’s yours now.”

“That’s just the way it is.”

“For you, yes. That’s why Renee Oberman will never understand you.”

“I understand her.”

“Yes, I know you do.” He kissed her lightly. “Let’s get this done.”

With a nod she walked to the door connecting their offices.

17

EVE LISTENED TO HER E-MEN EXPLAIN, IN their way, McNab’s idea for a tap and trace. She listened until her ears began to ring.

She waved a hand in the air to cut off the geek-fest. “Bottom line. If you can do this, we’d have Renee’s disposable—incoming and outgoings on record.”

“Bottom line,” Feeney agreed. “But that doesn’t credit the juice in the concept or execution—and this one’s loaded with it.”

“Kudos all around. If you can take it from concept to execution, we need a warrant.”

Feeney puffed out his cheeks. “Yeah, that would be a little hitch. We’ve got enough for one, Dallas, starting with Peabody’s statement, going right on through your meet with Renee, the financials, the tail last night to dead Garnet. It’s your call whether we go there. IAB could work one.”

Her call, she thought, and every decision angled off another path. “I’ll get the warrant and inform IAB—after you’ve pulled off your juicy concept. I’ll need to meet with Reo,” she said, thinking of the ADA she trusted. “And before I meet with the commander again. Privately meet with her. Peabody—”

“Oh man, you want me to tag Crack again.”

“Him, then Reo. Tell her to meet me there in thirty. Say it’s urgent and confidential. You know what to do.”

“Yeah,” Peabody said on a sigh.

“Roarke, Peabody’s going to need a vehicle.”

“I am? Aren’t I with you? You need me for Reo, then, Dallas, I should be with you for the meet with Commander Oberman, to push with you with IAB.”

“No. I’ve got your statement for Reo. Dealing with Commander Oberman and IAB, that’s my job. You need to pursue your investigation. You need to stand for Detective Devin, Peabody. You need to get justice for her, and that’s what you’ll do. I have every confidence that’s what you’ll do.”

“I’m not even sure I’m going down the right roads,” Peabody began.

“You’ll find out.” She glanced at Roarke, and he nodded.

“I’ll see to the vehicle. Feeney, why don’t I meet you and McNab in the lab here? I’ll be right along.”

McNab gave Peabody a quick, supportive shoulder squeeze before he went out with his captain.

“Don’t give her anything flashy,” Eve called out to Roarke.

“Maybe just . . .” Peabody held up her thumb and forefinger, a half inch apart.

Roarke sent her a wink and left them alone.

Eve pointed Peabody to a chair, then walked to the buffet, poured coffee.

“You brought me coffee.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“It’s usually my job.”

“Because I’m the lieutenant.” Eve sat. “I pulled you into Homicide because I looked at you, and I thought, that’s a cop. Solid, a little green, but solid. And I could help her be a better cop. I have.”

Peabody stared into her coffee, said nothing.

“You have a cop’s work to do for Devin. I put that in your hands because, well, I’m the lieutenant. I have to know my men—their strengths, weaknesses, style. I have to know them, and I have to trust them to do the job. Or I haven’t done mine.”

Eve sipped her coffee, considered her words. “Meetings like I’ve got set up? That’s cop work, too, but it’s the drag of command, Peabody. It’s the politics and deal making, the pissing contests. It has to be done, and I have to do it.”

“Because you’re the lieutenant.”

“Damn right. I’ve thought a lot about what it means to be in command, to have rank since Renee Oberman. Not just about what it means to be a cop, but to be a boss. The responsibilities, and the influence, the obligations to the badge, to the public, to the men and women under your command. I wanted it, and I worked for it. I had to be a cop. It’s all I could be. I’d been a victim, so I knew I could stay broken, or I could fight. I could learn and train and work until I could stand for the victim. We all have our reasons for being a cop.”

“I wanted to make detective, so bad. Being a cop ... it meant I could help people who needed it, and that was important. Making detective, well, for me, it meant I was good, and I’d get better. You got me there.”

“I helped get you there,” Eve corrected. “I didn’t want the rank for the office, for the pay raise.”

“You’ve got one of the crappiest offices in Central,” Peabody told her. “It makes us proud.”

“Seriously?” Surprised, then foolishly pleased, Eve shook her head.

“You don’t care about the fancy, you care about the job. And your men. Everybody knows it.”