Amelia Sachs's right index fingernail worried her thumb, which was on the verge of bleeding.
Dellray looked around the room. He was clearly impressed at their impromptu lab but strangled the feeling fast. "We're taking over. Sorry."
In twenty years of policing, Rhyme had never seen a peremptory takeover like this.
"Fuck this, Dellray," Sellitto began, "you passed on the case."
The agent swiveled his glossy black face around until he was looking down at the detective.
"Passed? Passed? I never got no ring-a-ling about it. D'jou call me?"
"No."
"Then who dropped the dime?"
"Well . . ." Sellitto, surprised, glanced at Polling, who said, "You got an advisory. That's all we've gotta send you." On the defensive now too.
"An advisory. Yeah. And, hey, how 'xactly was that delivered? Would that have been by Pony Ex-press? Book-rate mail? Tell me, Jim, what's the good of an overnight advisory when there's an ongoing operation?"
Polling said, "We didn't see the need."
"We?" Dellray asked quickly. Like a surgeon spotting a microscopic tumor.
"I didn't see the need," Polling snapped. "I told the mayor to keep it a local operation. We've got it under control. Now fuck off, Dellray."
"And you thought you could wrap it up in time for the eleven o'clock news."
Rhyme was startled when Polling shouted, "What we thought was none of your goddamn business. It's our fucking case." He knew about the captain's legendary temper but he'd never seen it in action.
"Ac-tu-ally, it's ou-ur fucking case now." Dellray strolled past the table that held Cooper's equipment.
Rhyme said, "Don't do this, Fred. We're getting a handle on this guy. Work with us but don't take it away. This unsub isn't like anything you've ever seen."
Dellray smiled. "Let's see, what's the latest I hear about this 'fucking' case? That you've got a civvy doin' the 'rensics." The agent forewent a glance at the Clinitron bed. "You got a portable doing crime scene. You got soldiers out buying groceries."
"Evidence standards, Frederick," Rhyme reminded stridently. "That's SOP."
Dellray looked disappointed. "But ESU, Lincoln? All those taxpayer dollars. Then there's cutting up people like Texas Chainsaw . . ."
How had that news got out? Everyone was sworn to secrecy on the dismemberment issue.
"And whatsis I hear 'bout Haumann's boys found the vic but dint go in and save her right away? Channel Five had a Big Ear mike on it. Got her screaming for a good five minutes 'fore you sent somebody in." He glanced at Sellitto with a wry grin. "Lon, my man, would that've been the problem you were just talking about?"
They'd come so far, Rhyme was thinking. They were getting a feel for him, starting to learn the unsub's language. Starting to see him. With a burst of surprise he understood that he was once again doing what he loved. After all these years. And now somebody was going to take it away from him. Anger rippled inside him.
"Take the case, Fred," Rhyme grumbled. "But don't cut us out. Don't do it."
"You lost two vics," Dellray reminded.
"We lost one," Sellitto corrected, looking uneasily at Polling, who was still fuming. "Nothing we coulda done about the first. He was a calling card."
Dobyns, arms crossed, merely observed the argument. But Jerry Banks leapt in. "We've got his routine down now. We aren't going to lose any more."
"You are if ESU's gonna sit around listenin' to vics scream their heads off."
Sellitto said, "It was my--"
"My decision," Rhyme sang out. "Mine."