Ashes to Ashes

on the job and the optimist in him still lived. Amazing.

“I'm working on a version without the mustache,” Oscar said. “She seemed uncertain about the mustache.”

“How can she be uncertain about a mustache! He either had one or he didn't! Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!

“I won't release it today, that's all,” he said mostly to himself. “We'll hold off, get the girl back in here tomorrow, and try to get some better detail.”

From the corner of his eyes, he could see Oscar drop his head a little. He looked to be retreating into his beard. Kovac stopped his pacing and looked at him square.

“We can do that, can't we, Oscar?”

“I'll be pleased to work with Angie again tomorrow. I'd like nothing better than to help her unblock her memory flow. Confronting memory is the first step to neutralizing its negative power. As for the other, you'll have to take it up with Chief Greer. He was in here an hour ago to get a copy.”

“SHE SAW HIS face for two minutes in the light of a burning corpse, Sam,” Kate said, leading him into her office, not sure the small space would hold him. When he was wound, Kovac was a barely contained column of energy that required perpetual motion.

“She looked directly at the face of a murderer in bright light. Come on, Red. Wouldn't you think the details would be branded, so to speak, in her memory?”

Kate sat back against her desk, crossing her ankles, careful to keep her toes out of Kovac's way. “I think her memory might improve dramatically with the application of a little cash,” she said dryly.

“What!”

“She got wind of Bondurant's reward and wants a chunk. Can you blame her, Sam? The kid's got nothing. She's got no one. She's been living on the street, doing God knows what to survive.”

“Did you explain to her that rewards go out on conviction? We can't convict somebody we can't catch. We can't catch somebody we don't have a clue what the hell he looks like.”

“I know. Hey, you don't have to preach to me. And—word of warning—don't preach to Angie either,” Kate said. “She's on the fence, Sam. We could lose her. Figuratively and literally. You think life's a bitch now, imagine what'll happen if your only witness skips.”

“What are you saying? Are you saying we should stick someone on her?”

“Unmarked, low-key, and well back. You set a uniform on the curb in front of the Phoenix, it's only going to make matters worse. She already thinks we're treating her like a criminal.”

“Lovely,” Kovac drawled. “And what else would her highness require?”

“Don't bust my chops,” Kate ordered. “I'm on your side. And stop pacing, you'll make yourself dizzy. You're making me dizzy.”

Kovac pulled in a deep breath and leaned back against the wall, directly across from Kate.

“You knew what to expect from this girl, Sam. Why are you surprised by this? Or did you just want that composite to be a dead ringer for one of your exes?”

His mouth twisted with chagrin. He rubbed a hand across his face and wished for a cigarette. “I got a bad feeling about this deal, Kate,” he admitted. “I guess I was hoping for the witness fairy to touch our little Miss Daisy with her wand. Or poke her with it. Or hold it to her head like a gun. I hoped that maybe the kid would be scared enough to tell the truth. Oscar tells me fear precipitates prevarication.”

“He's been reading those pop psychology books again, hasn't he?”

“Or something.” He heaved a sigh. “Bottom line: I need something to kick-start this investigation or I'll have to go digging in some nasty shitholes. I guess I was hoping this was it.”

“Hold the sketch back a day. I'll bring her in again tomorrow. See if Oscar can apply his mystic powers and draw something out of her—no pun intended.”

“I don't think I'll be able to hold it back. Big Chief Little Dick got his hands on the sketch before me. He'll want to run with it. He'll want to present it at the press conference himself.

“Goddamn brass,” he grumbled. “They're worse than kids with a case like this. Everybody wants the credit. Everybody wants their face on the news. They all have to look important—like they've got shit to do with the investigation besides get in the way of the real cops.”

“That's what's really grating on you, Sam,” Kate pointed out. “It's not the sketch, it's your natural resistance to working under supervision.”

He scowled at her. “You been reading Oscar's books too?”

“I have a college degree in brain picking,” she reminded him. “What's the worst that happens if the sketch goes out and it isn't totally accurate?”

“I don't know, Kate. This mope barbecues women and cuts their heads off. What's the worst that could happen?”

“He won't be offended by the sketch,” Kate said. “He's more likely to be amused, to think he's outsmarted you again.”

“Ahh, so then he'll feel more invincible and be empowered to go out and whack another one! Swell!”

“Don't be such a fatalist. You can use this to your advantage. Ask Quinn. Besides, if the sketch is even partially accurate, you might get something off it. Maybe someone out there will remember seeing a similar individual near a truck. Maybe they'll remember a partial license plate, a dent in a fender, a guy with a limp. You know as well as I do, luck plays into an investigation like this in a big way.”

“Yeah, well,” Kovac said, reluctantly pushing himself away from the wall. “We could use a truckload. Soon. So where's the sunshine girl now?”

“I had someone take her back to the Phoenix. She's not happy about that.”

“Tough.”

“Ditto,” Kate said. “She wants a hotel room or an apartment or something. I want her with people. Isolation isn't going to open her up. Plus, I'd like someone keeping an eye on her. Did you go through that backpack she carries around?”

“Liska checked it out. Angie was steamed, but, hey, she came running away from a headless corpse. We couldn't risk her going psycho and pulling a knife on us. The uniform picked her up should have done it at the scene, but he was all shook up thinking about Smokey Joe. Stupid rookie. He screws up that way with the wrong mutt, he'll get himself whacked.”

“Did Nikki find anything?”

He pursed his lips and shook his head. “What are you thinking? Drugs?”

“I don't know. Maybe. Her behavior is all over the map. She's up, she's down, she's tough, she's on the verge of tears. I start to think something's off about her, then I stop and think: My God, look what she's been through. Maybe she's remarkably stable and sane, all things considered.”

“Or maybe she needs a score,” Kovac speculated, moving toward the door. “Maybe that's what she was doing in that park at midnight. I know some guys in narcotics. I'll reach out, see if maybe they know this kid. We got nothing else on her yet. Wisconsin had nothing.”

“I talked to a Susan Frye in our juvenile division,” Kate said. “She's been at this forever. She's got a great network. Rob is checking his contacts in Wisconsin. In the meantime, I need to get Angie some kind of perk, Sam. A show of appreciation. Can you kick her something out of petty cash as an informant?”

“I'll see what I can do.”

Another duty to add to his long list. Poor guy, Kate thought. The lines in his face seemed deeper today. He had the weight of the city on those sturdy shoulders. His suit jacket hung limp on him, as if he had somehow drawn the starch out of it to supplement his draining energy.

“Listen, don't worry about it,” she said as she pulled the door open. “I can weasel it out of your lieutenant myself. You've got better things to do.”

Halfway out the door, he turned and gave her a lopsided smile. “What gave you that idea?”

“Just a hunch.”

“Thanks. You're sure you're not too busy tackling armed gunmen?”

“Heard about that, did you?” Kate made a face, not comfortable with the attention yesterday's incident had gotten her. She'd turned down half a dozen requests for interviews and made too many trips to the ladies' room to dab makeup over the bruises.