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Eve switched her to privacy mode and took the communication on the way to Whitney’s office.

Whitney opened the door personally. There were new lines dug into his face, she noted, more gray threaded through his hair than there had been even a few days before.

Command, she thought, could be a harsh master.

“Lieutenant.”

“Sir.”

He gestured her into his office with its wide windows to the city he was sworn to protect.

Commander Marcus Oberman stood in front of one of them—tall, sturdy in his serious gray suit and steel blue tie. He’d let his hair go white, kept it shorn short, military style. Command had left its mark on him as well, but he remained a handsome man, striking and fit at eighty-six.

“Commander Oberman,” Whitney said, “Lieutenant Dallas.”

“Lieutenant.” Oberman extended his hand. “I appreciate you taking the time to come in to meet with me. I understand the value of your time.”

“It’s an honor, Commander.”

“And for me. You have an impressive reputation. Your commander speaks highly of you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Can we sit?” Oberman asked, deferring to Whitney.

“Please.” Whitney gestured to chairs.

Oberman took one. “You were barely out of the Academy when I retired from this office,” Oberman began, “but I’ve followed some of your investigations in the media, and heard the buzz at the trough where we old warhorses gather.”

He smiled when he said it, the bright blue eyes he’d passed to his daughter friendly on hers. But Eve felt herself being summed up.

She had no quibble with that, as she did the same with him.

“Of course, now with the success of Nadine Furst’s book, your work on the Icove case is well documented. It’s been good for the department, wouldn’t you agree, Jack, the interest in that case? How it was pursued, investigated, and closed?”

“I would.”

“From what I’m told and, observed, Lieutenant, you’ve butted heads with fellow officers during the course of investigations.”

“I’m sure that’s accurate, Commander.”

His smile widened. “If you’re not butting heads now and then, you’re not doing the job—in my opinion.”

He leaned back in the chair. Taking the formal out, Eve judged, as she had with Trueheart.

“It takes confidence, even bullheadedness, as well as training, talent, dedication to stick with the job, and to move up the ranks. I understand you and my daughter are butting heads at the moment.”

“I regret if Lieutenant Oberman sees it that way.”

He nodded, his gaze pinned on hers. Still cop’s eyes, Eve thought. Shrewd, probing, the sort that could peel away the layers and expose what was hiding beneath.

“Your commander will attest to the fact I don’t make a habit of interfering with departmental business. I no longer have the chair, and hold nothing but respect for the man who does.”

“Yes, sir, as do I.”

“But a father is a father, Lieutenant, and from that job no man retires. I expect you and Lieutenant Oberman would have some certain friction between you as you are different types, have different work styles. But you’re both still ranked officers of the NYPSD.”

“Absolutely understood, Commander.”


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