Annie sat back in her chair and closed her eyes. She still hadn’t figured out where she and Teddy should run off to once they had the money, but there was one thing she was sure of: he wasn’t smart enough to survive in New York on his own.
She hustled him along to the other apartment and went over his things-not-to-do list one last time.
“What time will you be back?” Teddy asked.
“I’m meeting Jeremy at noon. If it all goes the way it’s supposed to, the whole thing should take ten minutes. Then we’ll hop on the BQE, and there’s not a lot of traffic at this hour, so I should be home by one o’clock.”
“Cool,” Teddy said. “Could you bring me back some lunch?”
“Sure. What would you like?”
“Let’s see. A pastrami sandwich, a cream soda... and I’m trying to remember... there was a third thing I wanted. Oh yeah.” He tapped his forehead. “A hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars.”
Annie laughed out loud. Sometimes the kid wasn’t as dumb as she thought.
Chapter 45
When I got to work the next morning, Kylie was at her computer. “Your girlfriend ratted me out to the boss,” she said, not looking up at me.
“If what you’re trying to say is that Dr. Robinson sent a report to Captain Cates about our late-night excursion to the Bronx, I know all about it,” I said.
“Cheryl told you?” she said, finally deeming me worthy of eye contact.
“Only after the fact. She gave me a heads-up as we were on our way to work this morning.”
“Why would you need a heads-up?”
“I don’t know. Maybe just in case I got to the office and you were in a pissy mood. But I’m happy to see you’re nothing but sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows.”
She lifted one hand from the keyboard and gave me the finger.
“What’s your problem?” I said. “Cheryl cleared you for duty. End of story.”
“Not for Cates. She wants both of us in her office. Now.”
“Both of us? This is between you and the captain. Why does she want me?”
“I don’t know, Zach. Maybe Cheryl’s opinion wasn’t enough. Maybe you get a vote too. Do you think I’m fit for duty, Dr. Jordan?”
“Hell, if we’re going to play good cop/bad cop, you’re totally fit for baddest-ass cop ever. Otherwise, you’re going to have to be on restricted duty.”
She lifted the other hand so she could flip me the bird with both barrels.
“You’re overreacting,” I said. “And for the record, Mrs. Harrington, the boss didn’t find out about Spence from Cheryl. That little card in his wallet that said ‘I’m married to an NYPD detective’ was the equivalent of sending up a Bat Signal. It lit up the radios across all five boroughs. It was the system that ratted you out, not Cheryl.”
“Thanks. That makes me feel so much better.” She stood up, mental body armor in place, ready to do battle with whatever the system had in store for her next. I followed her to Cates’s office.
“I’m sorry to hear about Spence,” Cates said as we walked through the door. “I know what it’s like to be married to a man with a drug addiction.”
That stopped Kylie cold. “I... I didn’t know that,” she said, her body language softening.
“Not many people do. It’s ancient history. I’m only telling you because I wanted you to know that Delia Cates understands what you’re going through—”
“Thank you,” Kylie said.
“—but Captain Cates is about to come down on your ass like the hammer of Thor!” She pounded her desk to punctuate her point. “Last night you were called to a crime scene. As a witness — not as a cop, correct?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“After you learned that the victim was not your husband, did the lead detective on the case ask you for any help?”
“Detective Varhol asked if I recognized the victim. I gave him—”
Cates cut her off. “Did he ask you to assist him in his investigation?”
“No, ma’am.”
“So if Varhol made it clear that this was not your rodeo, why do I have a civilian complaint from Seth Penzig saying that you and Jordan stormed your way into his apartment and told him he was a suspect in the murder of his friend?”
“Stormed the apartment? That’s totally bogus. Zach and I had cause. You could smell the pot wafting out of Seth’s place from a block away.”
“Could you smell it from the Bronx? Because that’s where you were when you told Detective Varhol that you had no idea where Penzig lived.”
“We did a little digging after we left the Bronx.”
“Digging? In what universe is it okay for you to shanghai an investigation and question a person of interest in another cop’s homicide?”
“I was trying to find my husband.”
“And Detective Varhol was trying to find Penzig, but you decided that your personal needs were more important than the mission of this department.”
Some people find themselves in a deep hole and look for a way out. Not Kylie. She just grabs a bigger shovel. I jumped in before she could dig deeper.
“Captain,” I said, “I’m just as much to blame.”
“You’re damn right you are,” Cates snapped back. “Why do you think you’re here?”
“It was a big mistake, and I apologize if you took any heat over it. There’s no excuse for what the two of us did.”
“And yet, I’ve heard nothing but excuses from your partner.”
“She wasn’t thinking straight. They told her that Spence was dead, and she snapped. It won’t happen again.”
Cates grunted. “Do you want to put in for family leave?” she asked Kylie.
“No, ma’am.”
“Then if you want to look for your husband, do it on your own time, which, judging by your caseload, is going to be in short supply,” Cates said. “But if you ever flash your department shield to solve your civilian problems again, you’ll find yourself with more personal time than you ever dreamed of. Dismissed.”
“You realize that you never even apologized to her,” I said as soon as Kylie and I were back at our desks.
“It sounded to me like you were repentant enough for both of us.”
“That’s not how the concept works. You’re supposed to own your—”
The text alert on Kylie’s phone chirped, and she immediately tuned me out to look at the message. “Oh God,” she said.
“What’s going on?”
She didn’t answer. She just handed me her phone.
It was a text from Q.
Just got this pic from one of my girls. Q.
It was a picture of a stunning young black woman in a glittery low-cut top. Next to her was a bleary-eyed man with a drink in one hand and the other resting on the woman’s bare shoulder. There were splashes of blue, purple, and hot pink behind them — the official pyrotechnics of every after-dark club everywhere. Below the picture was a text.
This the white boy you looking for? He say his name Spence.
Chapter 46
The silver S550 Mercedes was parked outside the precinct. Q’s driver, Rodrigo, opened the rear door, and Kylie and I got in.
Q, in a custom-tailored navy suit, white shirt, and blue and gold repp tie, looked more like a captain of industry than a purveyor of fine flesh and priceless information. “First things first,” he said to Kylie. “Let me have your phone.”
She handed it to him, and he deleted the picture he’d sent. “To quote the incomparable John Ridley,” he said, “‘Discretion — it never goes out of style.’”