"No."
"So of course she's gonna think law enforcement is plotting against her! It's as old as O.J.!"
"Look, obviously, it's no one from here, but I am worried about her."
"You know what bothers me? That there was a roomful of top brass today-every agency in the friggin' city-all sitting around a table, working to make her life better, and she doesn't think of that!" Dan was getting red under his freckles. "Cops and ATF risk their necks every day, and she doesn't think of that! Morty got killed running down a CI, and she doesn't think of that!"
Whoa. Vicki put up a hand. "She does, and so do I. Please, Dan, sit down. If she's paranoid, she's entitled to it."
"But you should know better." Dan met her gaze evenly, and Vicki didn't flinch.
"Not when she was arrested on the say-so of somebody who said she was her best friend and didn't know her at all. I'm concerned enough to make her stay at the house tonight, so she's safe."
"Stay with us?"
"On the couch."
"You're overreacting!"
"I don't want her alone, and I wouldn't sleep worrying like this." Vicki checked the window, where the gray of twilight was deepening toward an inky blue. "I have no way to reach her, short of grabbing a cab and going looking."
"Don't even think about it, Vick. Bale and Strauss are still working. You have to be here."
"What if something happens to her?"
"They're already talking about you."
"What?" Vicki's mouth went dry.
"They're questioning your commitment. Even Bale, since you won't let it go."
"My commitment?" Vicki couldn't believe her ears. "We made the bust of the century, at least partly because I put myself out there! Way out there!"
"But you did things they don't want you to do. Running around, playing cop." Dan sighed. "Just because they're with the program to the media doesn't mean there aren't doubts about you around here. They're just closing ranks."
Vicki couldn't process it fast enough. So much for her fifteen minutes of fame. She felt suddenly stupid for believing the press releases. It had all gone to her head. Is it possible to like positive reinforcement too much?
"They think you're in too deep, because of the trauma of being there, when Morty was killed. You're too emotionally involved because of Morty, and now with Reheema."
"Who thinks that?" Vicki asked, stung.
"They all do." Dan's eyes softened, and he sat back down into his chair. "They wanted to talk to me about staffing at dinner. That's why I didn't ask you to come."
Oh no. "So what did you say?"
"I went to bat for you, of course. You're a great young prosecutor, the best in your class." Dan's mouth flattened with a sort of sadness. "But I'll tell you something, because I love you-they're watching you."
"You're making me paranoid."
"You should be. Your credibility is in question. Your reputation. To me, that's worse than being fired any day."
"But you're going to be chief. You know me."
Dan leaned over. "Vicki, listen to me. You have to stop this. This running around with Reheema. This talk. It's jeopardizing your career and it's embarrassing."
"To whom?" Vicki asked, then she realized. To him.
"You have to make a choice."
"Between Reheema and you?"
"No. Between Reheema and you."
Suddenly the phone rang on Vicki's desk, and she grabbed the receiver. "Allegretti."
"Yo, girlfriend." It was Reheema.
"Where are you? Are you okay?"
"Fine. Sorry, I had the cell phone off."
"I was so worried!" Vicki said, and in the background, Dan got up and went to the door. "Reheema, wait, hold on a minute." She covered the receiver with her hand. "Dan, wait!"
Dan turned at the door, his hand on the knob. "I'll be at a hotel tonight. You two have fun." Then he walked out and closed the door behind him.
"Vicki? Vicki?" Reheema was saying, and Vicki swallowed the tightness in her throat.
"Yeah, I'm back."
"I'm okay, but I have real bad news."
"I'm all ears," Vicki said, her gaze on the closed door.
FORTY-TWO
"What's the bad news?" Vicki asked.
"Mar's dead."
"No." Vicki looked out the window, a black, moonless square that reflected her own unhappiness. There were no stars again. "How?"
"Drug overdose. Crack."
Whoa. "That's terrible. For her and for us."
"I know, right?"
"When?"
"July."
"Last summer. How'd you find out?"
"Long story short, I canvassed the street and got nowhere. Nobody knows Jackson, nobody sees her. Then I remember that lady near Jackson's house, who said their landlord was Polo Realty in Juniata, so I call their offices and go there."
"Good for you."
"I asked can I see the lease, I was Jackson's cousin and maybe I would rent the place, to keep her memory alive."
"And he bought that?"
"He's white. He thinks black people got some weird ways."
Vicki laughed.
"He's right. Look at Michael Jackson. Man's a freak."
"Okay." Vicki laughed again. Despite the bad news, Reheema was evidently flushed with success, and one of them needed self-esteem right now.
"Well, Jackson signed the lease, but the deposit check, for the earnest money, was from a Martella Jenkins." "Mar." "Right, and her address was right on the check." "Yes! Where does she live, or did she live?" "Northeast, so I went over. By the way, that Cabrio's a nice car." "You're not getting the Cabrio." Vicki smiled. "The Intrepid has your name all over it."
Reheema chuckled. "Anyway, her brother told me how she died. He didn't know Jackson, though. He just got back from the army. Been gone five years."
"Great work!" "Thank you, thank you." "Where are you now?" "Still in the Northeast, 'bout an hour away." "Perfect. Pick me up at the office, will you?" "Oh, sure. Driving Miss Vicki." "Gimme a break. Also, I think you should stay at my house tonight." "No way," Reheema said, and hung up.
By eleven o'clock, after a short but intense car ride, they arrived at Vicki's house, but they were barely speaking. Vicki trundled downstairs with a sheet, a thermal blanket, and a feather-filled pillow, while Reheema sulked on a chair in the living room. Zoe rubbed against the leg of her jeans, her tortoiseshell tail curled into a question mark.
"Here we go," Vicki said, hitting the living room. "I'll make up the couch. It'll be nice and comfy." "I want to sleep in my own house."
"Somebody could be trying to kill you. Namely, me." Vicki dumped the bedclothes on the coffee table.
"This is dumb."
"It is not."
"It is, too."
"I'm taking no chances."
"If somebody's gonna kill me, they could kill me here. This way, you're in trouble, too."
Eek. "Nobody can hurt you with a tiny but very potent AUSA like me on guard." Vicki looked at Zoe, who blinked, green-eyed. "Also, a cat with a heart problem."
"I want my gun."
"No." Vicki made a mental note to take the gun from her purse and put it in a drawer upstairs. She couldn't get it through the metal detectors at work; they kept confiscating it at security and giving it back to her. Evidently she wasn't the first AUSA to be carrying, but it was a huge pain in the butt and was making her nervous, besides.
Reheema got up, grabbed a white sheet, and helped Vicki tuck it around the couch cushions, a task they finished jointly, albeit in silence.