“Okay. Do we have an ID on her?”
He toggled over to an ID shot. “Jeni Curve, twenty-one. Part-time delivery girl, part-time student. No priors, no shaky known associates. Shares an apartment with two other females. And she’s one of the vics. I checked.”
“She doesn’t look suicidal,” Eve speculated. “Doesn’t look homicidal. Not nervous, not gathering her courage.”
“I’ve got others. Nothing’s popping. Some in, some out, some alone, most with somebody. But your wit’s the last out before this.”
He ran it forward six minutes. Eve watched the cafe door shudder, and the spiderweb spread over the glass. Most people on the street just kept going, one or two flicked the door a glance.
And one man bustled up, working his PPC as he pulled open the door. Distracted, he started to step in, stopped, goggled, stumbled back out of camera range.
“He’s the one who called it in,” Feeney told her. “Now you’ve got this guy, paying less attention, pulls the door open, goes on in. See the door there?”
“Yeah. Looks like he tried getting the hell out again. He didn’t make it.”
“Not his lucky day,” Feeney commented.
“Jeni Curve.” Eve stood, studying the ID shot. “I’ll look into it. Did you ID the people who left between Curve going in, Lydia coming out? We may get something from them.”
“Shot the data down to your unit. I ran them—standard—nothing pops there either.”
“I’ll add them all to Baxter’s cross. I’ll put it in for you,” she repeated. “Curve doesn’t look crazy.”
“A lot of people who don’t are.”
“Ain’t that the fucking truth? Maybe. Maybe. I’ll dig down.”
Halfway on the route between EDD and Homicide, her comm signaled. “Dallas.”
“Lieutenant,” Whitney’s admin spoke briskly, “the commander needs you in his office, immediately.”
“On my way.”
She backtracked, grabbed an up-glide. Idly studied a couple of women with battered faces she made as street LCs. To her way of thinking their line of work was nearly as dicey as hers. You just never knew when some asshole would decide to punch you in the face.
In Whitney’s outer office, the admin merely signaled Eve to go straight in. Still she knocked briefly before stepping inside.
Whitney sat at his desk, his hands folded. Chief of Police Tibble, his long frame suited in black with subtle chalk stripes, stood at the window.
She didn’t know the third person, but made her as federal as quickly as she’d made the LCs on the glide.
She thought:
It had to happen.
“Lieutenant Dallas,” Whitney began, “Agent Teasdale, HSO.”
“Agent.”
“Lieutenant.”
In the three or four beats of silence, they sized each other up.
Teasdale, a slight, delicate woman, wore her long, black hair slicked back in a tail. The forgettable black suit covered a compact body. Low-heeled black boots gleamed like mirrors. Her dark brown eyes tipped up slightly at the corners. The eyes and the porcelain complexion had Eve pegging her as mixed race, leaning Asian.
“The HSO, through Agent Teasdale, requests to be brought up to speed on the two incidents you’re investigating.”
“Requests?” Eve repeated.
“Requests,” Teasdale confirmed in a quiet voice. “Respectfully.” She spread her hands. “May we sit?”
“I like standing.”
“Very well. I understand you have reason to distrust, even resent HSO due to the events that occurred in the fall of last year.”
“Your assistant director was a traitor. Your Agent Bissel a murderer. Yeah, might be some lingering distrust.”
“As I said, this is understood. I have explained to your superiors the operatives and handlers who were involved in that unfortunate incident have been incarcerated. We have conducted a full and complete internal investigation.”
“Good for you.”
Teasdale’s placid expression never changed. “The NYPSD has also had some difficulties. Lieutenant Renee Oberman ran illegal activities, including murder, out of her department for many years before she was discovered, arrested, and incarcerated, along with the officers involved. Their dishonor doesn’t destroy the honor and purpose of the NYPSD.”
“I know who I’m working with here. I don’t know you.”
“A valid point. I’ve worked for the HSO for nine years. I was recruited while in graduate school. I specialize in domestic terrorism, and for the last four years have been based here in New York.”
“That’s great. We don’t believe we’re dealing with any individual or group with a political agenda. I’ll let you know when and if that changes.”
Teasdale smiled softly. “Politics isn’t the only basis for terrorist activities. The indiscriminate murder of multiple people in public settings is a kind of terrorism as well as homicide. I believe I can help you identify the person or persons responsible, and aid in your capture of same.”
“I have a solid team, Agent Teasdale.”
“Do you count among them a terrorist specialist with nine years of training? With nine years of field and laboratory experience? Who also holds advanced degrees in chemistry and who serves Homeland Security as an expert on chemical and biological warfare? You’re welcome to check my bona fides, Lieutenant, as I have yours. I’m useful.”
“Useful to the HSO.”
“Yes, and that doesn’t preclude my usefulness to you, your department, and your investigation. The request at this time is to consult and assist, not to overtake.”
“I can check your bona fides, but who do you work with, report to? And how long does ‘at this time’ run?”
“I’ll be working alone, as far as HSO contacts, and will report to, and only to, the head of the New York branch, Director Hurtz. You may or may not be aware that Director Hurtz, who moved into the position after the events of last fall, has been most directly responsible for the internal investigation that has led to several arrests and reassignments. I believe Chief Tibble and Director Hurtz are acquainted.”
“Yes.” Tibble spoke for the first time, his face as carefully schooled as Teasdale’s. “His personal request to me, and my acquaintance with him is the reason you’re here, Agent Teasdale. And as I related to Director Hurtz, your clearance to consult will be the lieutenant’s call.”
He held up a hand, in that quietly unarguable way he had to cut off her response. “I’m perfectly aware the HSO and the director can, by law and procedure, attach themselves to the investigation, or take it over. As I’m sure you’re aware, as is your director, that doing so will generate considerable difficulties, with relations between the NYPSD and HSO, and in the media.”
“Yes, sir, that’s very clear.”
“HSO has not endeared itself to the NYPSD, or anyone in this room save perhaps yourself. If not for my respect for Director Hurtz, I wouldn’t have taken Lieutenant Dallas’s valuable time for this discussion. It’s your call, Lieutenant. You’re free to take as much time as you need to make that call.”
“Can we have the room, sir?”
He lifted his eyebrows. “Agent Teasdale. If you’ll excuse us.”
“Of course.”
She exited as quiet as smoke.
“Permission to speak frankly, sir.”
“Weren’t you?”
