"You trailing me again, Webster?"
"I needed to talk to you."
She got to her feet, winced a little, and glanced down to see a long, nasty gash in her knee. "You sure run off at the mouth a lot lately. You got that one?"
"Yeah." He smiled a little at the sound of sirens. "There's the backup. I took the liberty of calling for some."
She limped over, picked up weapons, scanning the three unconscious men. Then she went back, crouched, and peered under the car.
The kid had shut up, she gave him that. And big, fat tears ran down his freckled face. "Come on out. It's okay."
"I want my mom."
"Can't blame you. Come on."
He crab-walked out, swiped his hand under his nose. "I wanna go home."
"Okay, in a minute. You hurt much?"
"No." His lip trembled. "Did I wreck my bike?"
"I don't know. We'll get somebody to look at it for you."
"I'm not supposed to ride in the street. My mom said."
"Yeah, well, next time, listen to your mother." She gestured to a uniform the minute the black and white pulled up. "Send somebody after the kid's bike. Give your name to this policeman," she told the boy. "He's going to take you home. If your mom wants to talk to me…"
She dug in her pockets, mildly surprised when she discovered she'd remembered her cards. "Tell her to call me at this number."
" 'Kay." He sniffed again, studying her with more interest than fear now. "Are you a policeman, too?"
"Yeah." She pulled her restraints out of her back pocket. "I'm a policeman, too."
She rolled the first man over, checked for a pulse, lifted one of his eyelids. She wasn't going to need restraints for this one.
"You couldn't risk a stun," Webster said from behind her. "You had to take a kill shot to insure the safety of the civilian."
"I know what I had to do," she said. Bitterly.
"You'd been slower, less accurate, or if you'd lowered your weapon, that kid wouldn't be going home to his mother."
"I know that, too. Thanks for the help here."
He nodded, then stood back and waited while she organized the scene and had one of the uniforms disperse the small crowd that had gathered.
The MTs rolled up, and right behind them a cab. He saw Peabody leap out, rush to her lieutenant. To his surprise, she shook her head when Eve gestured her aside. What appeared from his viewpoint to be a short, snarly argument took place. In the end, Eve threw up her hands, then hobbled over to one of the MTs to have her leg treated.
Amused, he wandered up to Peabody. "How'd you manage that?"
She was surprised to see him, and it showed, but she shrugged. "I threatened her with Roarke."
"What do you mean?"
"Reminded her that if she went home without having that gash seen to, he'd be pissed, treat it himself. And pour a pain blocker into her. She hates that."
"So, he handles her."
"They handle each other. It works for them."
"I noticed. Will you give me a minute with her?"
"It's not up to me." But Peabody walked away to oversee the transportation of the suspects.
Webster strode over to the medi-van, crouched down, and studied the gash being treated. "Not so bad, but those pants will never be the same."
"It's a scratch."
"Got grit in it," the MT stated.
"Got grit in it," she mimicked and scowled at him as he closed the cut. "I hate you guys."
"Oh, we know. My partner paid me twenty so I'd treat you instead of him." He finished the job while she sat and stewed, then stepped back. "There now. Want a lollitape?"
Because her lips quivered she didn't risk cursing him but simply got to her feet. "Easiest twenty you ever made, pal."
She walked away, still limping a little, and Webster fell into step beside her. "Now that we've had our little party, can I have a minute?"
"I've got a follow-up to do, then I've got to go in and hammer these guys, write a report…" She sighed. "What do you want?"
"To apologize."
"Okay. Accepted." But before she could walk away he took her arm. "Webster."
"Just a minute." Cautiously, he removed his hand, put both in his pockets. "I was way over the line last night, and I'm sorry for it. I put you in a bad spot. I was pissed, at myself a lot more than you, but it gave me an excuse to… Okay truth, goddamn it. I never got over you."
He could probably have given her a quick roundhouse kick in the face and shocked her less. "What? What was to get over?"
"Well, ouch. That should have my ego limping for the next couple of weeks. Let's just say I got hung up. It's not like I thought about you every waking minute for the past few years, but there were moments. And when that shit came down on you last winter and we had a few face-to-faces, it got stirred up again. It's my problem, not yours."
She considered, strained for something, but her mind stayed blank. "I don't know what I'm supposed to say."
"Nothing. I just wanted to clear it up, get it out of my gut. Roarke has every right to kick my teeth in." Experimentally, Webster ran his tongue around them now. "Which he damn near did. Anyway." He tried a shrug. "I'd like to set that aside if it's just the same to you."
"Yeah, let's do that. I've got to-"
"One more thing while I'm clearing my conscience. I was following orders when I came to you on Kohli. I didn't like doing it. I know you had a meet at The Tower, with Bayliss."
"Your captain's an asshole."
"Yeah. Yeah, he is." He sucked in a breath. "Look, I went into IAB because I wanted to do good work, because I believed in keeping a clean house. I'm not going to give you a song and dance on abuse of power, but-"
"Good, because I could sing a hell of a tune about your captain."
"I know it. I didn't come to you last night just because I was hung up on you. This operation, the direction it's taken, has stuck in my craw. Bayliss says look at the big picture, but if you don't see the details, what the hell's the point?"
He looked back as the medi-vans and their police escort headed out. "I'm adding up the details, Dallas, and they're making a whole new pattern. You're going after a cop killer, and it's going to swing you right into Ricker's face."
"Tell me something I don't know."
"Okay, I will." He looked back at her. "I want in."
"Forget it."
"If you don't think you can trust me, you're wrong. And if you think I'll give you any personal grief, you're wrong there, too."
"I'm not worried about personal grief. Even if I wanted you in, I don't have the authority to sanction it."
"You're primary. You pick your team."
She stepped back, hooked her thumbs in her front pocket, and measured him with a deliberately insulting up-and-down glance. "When's the last time you've been on the street, Webster?"
"Awhile, but it's like sex. You don't forget the moves. I just saved your ass, didn't I?"
"I was saving my own, thanks. Why the hell should I bring you in?"
"I've got information. I can get more. It may be my last duty in IAB. I'm thinking about transferring out, maybe putting back in for Homicide or Violent Crimes. I'm a good cop, Dallas. We worked together before. We did all right. Give me a shot. I could use some redemption."
There were a dozen reasons to refuse. But there were one or two offsetting those. "I'll think about it."
"Good enough. You know how to reach me." He walked away, then turned, walking backward as he grinned at her. "Don't forget. I share the collar for these assholes."
She stood frowning after him, trying to figure the angles.
"We're cleaned up here, Lieutenant." Peabody, curiosity burning, walked up to her. "The uniforms are taking the single subject who was still standing into booking. Weapons are confiscated. The dead guy's on his way to the morgue, the other two en route to the hospital under guard. I have the name and address of the little boy. Should I notify child services so a rep can be present while you take his statement?"