“Acknowledged. I’m here to help you.”
“Help me what?”
“Kick a little Homeboy ass.”
They had a history, Eve reminded herself as she studied his face. That history included a single night between the sheets, years before. For some reason she never quite understood, that night had gotten under Webster’s skin. He had a . . . thing for her, which she was fairly sure Roarke had tromped out of him before she could do so herself.
She supposed they were, in some strange way, friends by this point. He was a good cop—wasted, in her opinion, in IAB, but a good cop. And an honest one.
“Why?”
“Because, Lieutenant, IAB doesn’t like outside organizations trying to mess with what’s ours.”
“No, you like to mess with us yourselves.”
“Ease back, would you? We’re informed the HSO is looking at one of our cops, we’re obliged to take a look at that cop. That cops comes up whistle clean—and you do—we take exception to the waste of our time and resources. Somebody outside tries to target a good cop, IAB offers a shield. Consider me your knight in shining fucking armor.”
“Get out.” She turned away.
“Don’t ditch a shield, Dallas. IAB’s required to be in on this meet. I just want you to know going in where I’m standing.”
“Okay, okay.” It wasn’t easy, but she buried her temper and her resentment. She was probably going to need all the help she could get. “It’s appreciated.”
She kept her head up as she approached Tibble’s office. “Dallas, Lieutenant Eve,” she said to the uniformed admin stationed outside. “Reporting as requested.”
“Lieutenant Webster, IAB, as directed.”
“One moment.”
It didn’t take long. Eve stepped into Tibble’s office just ahead of Webster.
Tibble was at the window, hands loosely held at the back of his waist, watching the city below. He was a good cop, in Eve’s opinion. Smart, strong, and steady. It had helped put him in the Tower, but it was his political dexterity, she knew, that kept him there.
He spoke without turning, and his voice carried authority. “You’re late, Lieutenant Dallas.”
“Yes, sir. I apologize. It was unavoidable.”
“You know Agent Sparrow.”
She glanced at Sparrow, who was already seated. “We’ve met.”
“Have a seat. And you, Lieutenant Webster. Webster is here representing Internal Affairs. Commander Whitney is present per my request.” He turned, swooped his hawk’s gaze over the room, then moved to his desk.
“Lieutenant Dallas, it seems the HSO has some concerns about the nature of your current investigation, the direction thereof, and your techniques. They have requested, through me, that you halt the investigation and turn over all notes, data, and evidence to AD Sparrow, thereby passing this case into HSO aegis.”
“I am unable to comply with this request, Chief Tibble.”
“This is a matter of global security,” Sparrow began.
“It’s a matter of murder,” Eve interrupted. “Four civilians have been killed, in New York City.”
“Four?” Tibble asked.
“Yes, sir. I was detained due to the discovery of a fourth victim. Joseph Powell, a city employee assigned to transportation and disposal at the morgue. My partner and ME Morris are on scene.”
“How is this connected?”
“Dr. Morris contacted me this morning to inform me that the body identified as Blair Bissel had been removed from storage.”