“Yes, sir.” He looked miserably into the cup, then lifted it, sipped. His breath sucked in. “This isn’t coffee.”
“Yeah, it is. It’s real coffee. Got a lot more going for it than that veggie crap, doesn’t it? You could use the extra kick today. Listen to me, Troy. You’re a good cop and with some seasoning you’ll be a better one. Terminations aren’t supposed to be easy. We shouldn’t be able to shrug off the taking of any life like it was nothing or we skirt too close to being what we’re here to put away.”
“I wish . . . I wish there’d been another way.”
“There wasn’t, and don’t forget that. It’s okay to be sorry, even a little guilty. But it’s not okay to feel anything less than absolutely confident that you did what had to be done given the circumstances. You let them see you’re not sure, and they’ll rip you up like a leopard does a gazelle.”
“I had to do it.” He held the coffee tight in both hands as if he were afraid it would jump out of his grip. “Lieutenant, I played it in my head a hundred different ways last night. I couldn’t have done anything else. He’d have killed that woman. He’d probably have killed me and anyone else who got in the way. But I made mistakes. I should’ve called for backup before entering the building. I should have called it in to Dispatch instead of tagging you.”
“Yeah, those are mistakes.” She nodded, pleased he’d thought it through, picked it apart. “Neither of which would have changed the termination. But they were mistakes that may cost you a little shine. Why didn’t you call for backup?”
“I reacted. The woman appeared to be in immediate jeopardy. I did shout orders for someone to call nine-eleven once I was inside, but I should have done so personally. If I’d been unsuccessful in stopping the perpetrator, had no backup en route, more lives could have been lost.”
“Good. Lesson learned. Why did you call me instead of Dispatch?”
“I was . . . Lieutenant, I wasn’t thinking straight. I realized both men were dead, that I had terminated the assailant, and I—”
“You were disoriented from the blows you received,” she said briskly. “You had some concerns that you might lose consciousness. Your immediate thought was to report the homicide and the termination, and you did so by contacting the Homicide lieutenant you have worked with in the past. Are you getting this, Trueheart?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You were in physical and mental distress. The lieutenant, to whom you relayed your situation, ordered you to secure the scene and stand until her arrival. You did so.”
“It wasn’t procedure.”
“No, but it’ll hold. Be sure you do. I didn’t bring you in off sidewalk detail to watch you wash out.”
“I’ll get mandatory thirty-day suspension.”
“Possibly. Probably.”
“I can take it. I don’t want to lose my badge.”
“You’re not going to lose your badge. Report to Testing, Officer Trueheart.” She got to her feet. “And show them what you’re made of.”
She put in another nagging call to Morris, then decided to swing into EDD before she nabbed Peabody and headed to the morgue.
EDD always baffled her. How anybody got anything done when they were all pacing around talking on headsets or burrowed in cubes arguing with computers was beyond her.
And they rarely dressed like cops. McNab, the skinny fashion plate who was currently engaged in activities on and off shift with Peabody that Eve didn’t like to think about, might have been the most outrageous of the bunch. But he didn’t win by much.
She retreated as quickly as possible into Feeney’s dull, workingman’s office.
His door was open. He rarely shut it, even when he was, as now, scouring a subordinate over some screw-up.
“You think the units in here are for your amusement and entertainment, Halloway? You figure you can kick back and play a little Space Crusader on the taxpayers’ nickel?”
“No, sir, Captain, I wasn’t—”
“This department isn’t your frigging toy box.”
“Captain, it was my lunch break and—”
“You got time for lunch?” Feeney’s basset hound face registered shock, amazement, and a secret joy. “Well, that’s fascinating, Halloway. I can promise you for the next little while lunch breaks are going to be a fond, fond memory. You may not have noticed, since you’ve been so busy saving the virtual universe while you tuck into a sandwich, but we’re jammed in here. Crime’s soaring like the temps out there, and we, being duly sworn servants of the law, have to buckle our asses in and save the city before we move on to space and goddamn alien invaders. I want a report on the Dubreck hacker on my desk in thirty.”
Halloway seemed to shrink inside his lime green jumpsuit. “Yes, sir.”
“When you’re done with that you hook up with Silby on the ’links from the Stewart break-in. And when you’re done with that, I’ll let you know. Scram.”