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“If you don’t think you can trust me, you’re wrong. And if you think I’ll give you any personal grief, you’re wrong there, too.”

“I’m not worried about personal grief. Even if I wanted you in, I don’t have the authority to sanction it.”

“You’re primary. You pick your team.”

She stepped back, hooked her thumbs in her front pocket, and measured him with a deliberately insulting up-and-down glance. “When’s the last time you’ve been on the street, Webster?”

“Awhile, but it’s like sex. You don’t forget the moves. I just saved your ass, didn’t I?”

“I was saving my own, thanks. Why the hell should I bring you in?”

“I’ve got information. I can get more. It may be my last duty in IAB. I’m thinking about transferring out, maybe putting back in for Homicide or Violent Crimes. I’m a good cop, Dallas. We worked together before. We did all right. Give me a shot. I could use some redemption.”

There were a dozen reasons to refuse. But there were one or two offsetting those. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good enough. You know how to reach me.” He walked away, then turned, walking backward as he grinned at her. “Don’t forget. I share the collar for these assholes.”

She stood frowning after him, trying to figure the angles.

“We’re cleaned up here, Lieutenant.” Peabody, curiosity burning, walked up to her. “The uniforms are taking the single subject who was still standing into booking. Weapons are confiscated. The dead guy’s on his way to the morgue, the other two en route to the hospital under guard. I have the name and address of the little boy. Should I notify child services so a rep can be present while you take his statement?”

“Hold off on that. Let’s have a female uniform take his statement later today. Since maximum force was used, it’s better, cleaner, if I don’t take it myself. I’ll write it up when I get back and report to Whitney after I talk to the scum who’s still standing. Let’s go on and do what we came for.”

“How’s the leg?”

“It’s fine.” Because Peabody was eyeing her, she made a concerted effort not to limp.

“Sure was handy Webster was around, huh?”

“Yeah, handy. Let’s leave it at that for now.”

“You’re the boss.”

“Try to remember that next time,” Eve said with some heat as they entered Kohli’s building. “And don’t nag me about medical treatment in front of a bunch of uniforms and gawking civilians.”

Got the job done, Peabody thought, but she was wise enough to button her lip.

A woman Eve didn’t recognize opened the door of the Kohli apartment.

“Yes?”

“Lieutenant Dallas, NYPSD.” Eve held her badge to eye level. “I’d like to speak with Mrs. Kohli.”

“She’s indisposed.”

“I’m sorry to disturb her at this difficult time, but I’m in charge of her husband’s case. I need to ask Mrs. Kohli some questions that may aid in my investigation.”

“Who is it, Carla?”

Patsy came to the door, peered out.

“It’s you.” She wrenched open the door while the other woman made helpless, soothing noises. “How dare you come here? How dare you show your face in my house.”

“Patsy, come on now, Patsy. You should go lie down. Go away,” the woman said to Eve. “Just go away.”

“No, no, let her

in. I have things to say.”


Tags: J.D. Robb In Death Mystery