“No big. Trina?” He offered a hand. “How you doing?”
“A little tipped, I guess. I never did this before.”
“Just relax. I’ll steer you through it. How about something to drink? Something cold?”
“Uh, maybe. Maybe like a lemon fizz? Diet.”
“I’ll get that for you. Just have a seat.”
Trina watched him walk out. “Whoa, daddy. He’s a yummy one.”
“You’re not here to nibble on him.”
“He’s got to go off-duty sometime.” Trina craned her neck to get a better view of Yancy’s ass before he rounded the corner. “Did you ever bump with that?”
“No. Jesus, Trina.”
“Bet that was your loss. Build like that, I bet he can hammer it all night.”
“Thank you. Thanks so much for putting that into my head. It’ll certainly enhance my working relationship with Detective Yancy.”
“I’d like to enhance his working relationship.” Trina blew out a breath. “Hey, thinking about sex makes me feel not so nervous. Good to know. Plus, it won’t be a hardship to work with Detective Hot Ass.”
“Don’t screw around.” Eve raked a hand through her hair as Yancy came back with Trina’s drink and one for himself. “You know how to reach me,” she told him.
“Yep. Trina and I…” He sent Trina a wink. “We’ll get this guy’s face for you. So, Trina, how long have you been in the business of beauty?”
Eve knew that was the way he worked, getting the witness to relax, talking small, easing them in. She fought back the need to tell him to push it, and simply stepped back. Walked away.
She had enough time to get to her office, organize the data—and her own thoughts—for the briefing. Pull in Peabody, Eve mused, as she aimed for Homicide. Get said data set up.
Do the briefing, then move out for the stupid, annoying morning media briefing. She needed to run the probabilities on herself as a target, work in some time during the day to discuss that with Mira. But she needed to get out in the field, needed to be out on the streets.
If this bastard was watching her, she might spot the tag.
She beelined for her office, then pulled up short when she saw Feeney sitting in her visitor’s chair, brooding over a mug of her coffee.
He got to his feet. Worse for wear, she thought. That’s how he looked, a hell of a lot worse for wear. Her back went up even as her stomach churned.
His eyes, baggy and shadowed, stayed on hers. “Got a minute?”
“Yeah.” She stepped in, closed the door. And for once wished her office was bigger. There wasn’t enough room for them to maneuver around each other, she thought, or to give each other enough space for whatever was coming.
Then it popped out of her, simply popped out without thought or plan. “I want to apologize for—”
“Stop.” He tossed it out so quickly her head nearly snapped back as from a blow. “Just stop right there. Bad enough, this is bad enough without that. I was off. Out of line. You’re primary of this investigation, and you’re heading up this task force. I was off, questioning you and your authority. And I was out of line with what I said to you. So.” He paused, took a good slug of coffee. “That’s it.”
“That’s it,” she repeated. “That’s how it’s going to be?”
“It’s your call on how it’s going to be. You want me off the team, you got cause. You got my notes, and I’ll get you a replacement.”
At that moment she wished he had popped her one instead of handed her these hurtful insults. “Why would you say that to me? Why would you think I’d want you off?”
“In your shoes, I’d think about it. Seriously.”
“Bullshit. That’s bullshit.” She didn’t kick her desk. Instead she kicked the desk chair, sending it careening into the visitor’s chair, then bouncing off to slam against the wall. “And you’re not in my shoes. Stupid son of a bitch.”
His droopy eyes went huge. “What did you say to me?”