“By ‘taken care of’, you mean…”
Cyrus allowed himself a small, fierce smile. “Plausible deniability, my friend.”
“You’re right. I don’t want to know. But call me if you need help…taking care of things.”
“Thanks, but the best thing you can do for me right now is keep tabs on my woman so she doesn’t go and do something reckless.”
“Can do. May even take a couple shifts myself if we can’t get the coverage you need, as long as it’s only going to be for a couple days.”
“I appreciate it. Thank you, Cole.”
“Don’t mention it.” Rising to his feet, Cole paused, the affable mask he normally wore cracking just enough to show a glimmer of the concern underneath. “Be careful, Cy. I’m gonna be pissed if you go and get yourself killed.”
“I have no intentions of letting that happen.”
Seemingly satisfied with that answer, Cole grunted and walked away, disappearing into the crowd outside the small bistro just around the corner from the DA’s office. Cyrus tossed a few bills on the table to cover the tip before following him outside.
Taking advantage of the unseasonably warm September day, he walked to the police station instead of calling for a car. It gave him time to work out an approach in his head that wouldn’t bring too much attention to himself. He stopped in at the bakery a few doors down from the station and stocked up on a variety of treats. It may have been cliched, bringing baked goods to a cop shop, but in his experience, it was the quickest way to loosen lips.
Sure enough, the second he walked through the front doors, all eyes were on him, with several noses lifting up to sniff the air.
“Those for us, Banks?” Patterson from Vice called from across the lobby, rubbing his hands together with glee.
Pausing, Cyrus tilted his head to the side. “Depends. Have you gotten us enough to bring in your suspect in that Anacostia Park case?”
Face falling into a pout, Patterson hunched his shoulders. “Man,” he whined, drawing the word out in a way that would put a toddler to shame.
Resuming his trek toward his original destination, Cyrus called over his shoulder, “Get me a suspect and maybe I’ll bring you brownies.”
He made it to homicide without sacrificing any of his treats, and was rewarded with a chorus of cheers the moment he walked into the bullpen.
And as luck would have it, Spencer was one of the first to swarm the pile of boxes, a nearly predatory gleam in his eye. “There was a rumor about brownies in the building, but I didn’t believe it.”
“The bakery happened to be on the way, and I thought you could use the fortification.”
Just as Spencer was biting into one of the oversized, overstuffed baked treats, Abbott sauntered up, his expression closed off. He was all cop, and it sent a frisson of fear up Cyrus’s spine.
“Banks. We called your office, but they said you were on your way here.”
As if suddenly remembering Cyrus himself was a “person of interest” in their case, Spencer straightened and swallowed his bite of brownie. “Right. Your name came up during an investigation this morning.”
The weight of a dozen curious stares settled on Cyrus’s shoulders as he forced a smile. “Perhaps there’s a conference room available where we can discuss this morning’s events?”
“I managed to snag us one,” Abbott said, jerking his head off to the side. “This way.”
In what Cyrus assumed was a deliberate move, Abbott turned without taking anything from the dwindling pile of treats and headed down a long hall, Spencer following behind with his half-eaten brownie in hand. Ignoring the stares boring into his back, he followed the pair to a conference room, the tension in his shoulders tightening as the door clicked shut behind them.
He took a seat on one side, unsurprised when they arranged themselves opposite him. A united front against him, despite the supposed informality of the interview.
Abbott wasted no time getting to the point. “You know why we’re here?”
“Yes. Gabrielle Lascher. Since homicide is involved, I’m going to assume she didn’t pass peacefully in her home.”
“No.” Eyes flat, Abbott showed no emotion as he laid out the facts as if it were just another case they were working together. “Her body was found in an alley. All of her belongings were still on her person. Purse, with about a hundred in cash, her phone, ID, keys. None of her jewelry appeared to be missing.”
Guilty and fury churned in his gut, making him grateful he hadn’t indulged in anything heavier than a few cups of coffee that morning. “Someone wanted her found. And they didn’t want it to look like a random mugging.”
“Yes,” Abbott agreed, tilting his head to the side. “Any idea why that might be?”