Jesus, he was tired. Sick and tired. All he could do was shake his head. "That's science fiction crap, Dallas. You don't catch anything but eyestrain from a unit."
"You put Halloway on Cogburn's unit. By the end of the day he's exhibiting the same symptoms as Cogburn. Deduction 101, Feeney, science fiction or not. There's something in that thing, and it goes into quarantine until we've got some answers."
"He was a good kid. He screwed off some, but he was a good kid, and a decent cop. I got on his ass this morning, but he needed a boot. Saw him sniping with McNab this afternoon and…"
Feeney rubbed his temples. "Oh Christ."
"They're taking care of McNab. He's going to be okay. He's tougher than he looks. He'd have to be, wouldn't he?" She worked up a smile when she said it and ignored the sick dread in her belly.
"Four of my boys hurt, one of them dead. I've got to know why."
"Yeah, we've got to know why."
She glanced back at Halloway's cube, at the old, broken-down data center on his work counter.
Absolute Purity, she thought.
She went back into Feeney's office. Halloway's body was already bagged. The blood that had burst from him was splattered like some mad drawing on the industrial beige wall.
She gestured to the MT who'd fixed her the tranqs. "What do you make of it?"
He looked down, as she did, at the body bag. "Some sort of rupture. Damned if I know. I've never seen anything like it, not without severe head trauma first. You need the ME's take. Maybe a brain tumor, maybe an embolism, massive stroke. Awful damn young. Couldn't hit thirty."
"Twenty-eight." He had a fiancee who was rushing back from a business trip in East Washington. Parents, and a brother, coming in from Baltimore.
And if she knew Feeney, Detective Kevin Halloway would be buried with all the honors due a badge who'd gone down in the line of duty.
Because that's just what had happened, she thought as they carried the bag away. He'd been doing his job, and had died because of it.
She didn't know how, she didn't know why. But a young EDD man had died today, for the job.
"Lieutenant."
She turned toward the door, and Whitney. "Sir."
"I need your report as soon as possible."
"You'll have it."
"What happened here…" He stared at the blood on the wall. "You have answers to that?"
"Some. More questions than answers. We need Morris to examine Halloway immediately. I believe he'll find similar neurological damage as he found in Cogburn. There are answers on Cogburn's data unit, but it can't be examined until some reasonable safety measures are devised. I do know Detective Halloway wasn't responsible for what happened here."
"I have to brief Chief Tibble and the mayor before we speak to the media. I'll let you ride on that one, for now," he added. "For the moment, the official word will be that Detective Halloway was suffering from some as yet undetermined illness that caused his aberrant behavior and resulted in his death."
"As far as I know that's exactly the truth."
"I'm not worried about the truth when it comes to the official word. But I want it, the whole of it. This matter is your only priority. Any and all other investigations you have ongoing are to be passed on. Find the answers."
He started out, then pivoted back. "Detective McNab regained consciousness. He's moved up from critical to serious."
"Thank you, sir."
When she walked out of EDD, she sported Roarke, leaning idly against a wall and working with his PPC.
Anyone less like a cop, less like a victim, she'd never seen. As far as the other element that frequented cop shops, he could still slide in, silkily though, to that dangerous group.
He looked up, held out a hand for hers.
"You couldn't have done more than you did."
"No." She knew that, accepted that. "But he's still dead. I put the murder weapon at his head. I didn't know it, couldn't be expected to know it, but that's what I did. And I don't even know what the weapon is."
She rolled her shoulders. "Anyway, McNab's awake and moved up to serious. I figure I ought to swing by and take a look at him before I head home."
"Interview him?"
"I'll give him some stupid flowers first."
Roarke laughed and had nearly lifted her hand to his lips when she jerked it down. Hissed.
"Darling, you really shouldn't be so shy about public displays of affection."
"Public's one thing, cops're another."
"Don't I know it," he murmured and went with her to the garage level.
"I'll ride along with you. One of us should see that Peabody gets a bit of food or has a shoulder."
"I'll leave that end to you." Eve climbed behind the wheel. "You're better at the 'there-theres' than I am."
He touched the ends of her hair. Just needed to touch. "She held up very well."
"Yeah, she hung."
"It isn't easy, when someone you care about gets hurt or is in danger of being hurt."
She slanted him a look. "People want easy, they should hook up with an office drone not a cop."
"Truer words. But actually, I was thinking how difficult it was for you to stand and watch Feeney being threatened with death for nearly an hour."
"He was handling himself. He knows how to-" It rushed up through her, grabbed her by the throat with spikey claws. "Okay." At the exit of the garage she stopped, dropped her head on the wheel. "Okay. Scared me. Jesus, Jesus. He knew just where to hold the damn weapon. Just the right point. One jerk and Feeney's gone. Gone in a blink and there's nothing you can do."
"I know." Roarke switched to auto, programmed in the address for the hospital, and leaning over rubbed the back of Eve's neck as the vehicle streamed into traffic. "I know, baby."
"He knew it. We looked at each other, and we both knew. It could be over so fast. No time to say anything, do anything. Damn it."
She laid her head on the seatback, closed her eyes. "I wheedled him into taking that unit, bumping it up in line. I know, I know what happened, what could have happened, wasn't my fault. But there it is anyway. He's got a neck like a stupid rooster. It's got bruises on it where Halloway kept jamming the weapon under his stupid droopy jaw. How many times did his life pass in front of his eyes? Never see his wife again, his kids, grandkids."
"You take on the job, you take on the risks. Someone's always reminding me of that."
She opened her eyes now, looked at him. "Must be tempting to smack her back for being such a tight-ass know-it-all."
"Oh, infinitely." He played his fingers lightly over her cheek. "But someone's always beating me to it."
She smiled now. "I don't get hit in the face every couple weeks anymore, I don't feel right. I'm okay."
"Yes, you are."
She was steady again when she strode into the hospital admission's lobby. Steady enough to snap like a wolf at the dozen reporters already camped out and trying to sniff out a story.
"No comment."
"Your name was brought up as part of the negotiation team that brought about Captain Ryan Feeney's release. Why was Homicide part of this team?"
"No comment."
"A police source has stated that Detective Kevin Halloway fired on several other detectives, took Captain Feeney hostage within the Electronic Detectives Division of Cop Central and subsequently was killed during the incident."
She shoved her way through the encroaching reporters, and-oops-knocked over a camera. "Perhaps you didn't hear theno portion of the phrase 'no comment.'"
"Did you terminate Detective Halloway in your efforts to obtain Captain Feeney's release?"
She turned at that, her eyes flat as a shark's. "Commander Whitney, along with the chief of police and the Mayor of New York, will be briefing the media on today's events within the hour. If you want to feed, go chew on that bone. I'm just here to visit a sick friend."