assignment roster, and found the two primaries who had handled Walt's death call.
Cassie Kovacevich and Burtram Cole were not from Newton, as I suspected, but were detectives out of the Harbor Division in our South Bureau, which patrols Harbor City, where Huntington House is located. I wrote down their badge numbers and logged off the computer. When I looked up, Sally was still staring at me.
I knew she wasn't going to go away. She knew I was up to something and wasn't about to let it drop. An unhealthy moment of distrust festered between us. Since I knew she wouldn't leak and I was probably going to need somebody who could handle the inside if this got rolling, I decided it was better to confide in her.
I stood and motioned for her to follow me out into the corridor. We walked across the crowded squad room, past the cubicles of paired detective teams. I finally stopped in a nook by the windows out in the lobby, just around the corner from the elevators.
'Okay, look, you're right. Its not a business problem. I'm not going to Hawaii because a guy who was very close to me, a father figure growing up, committed suicide four days ago. The funeral was yesterday.'
'I'm sorry to hear that, Shane. But if he's buried, what's to keep you from taking your vacation?'
'I'm not reading his death as self-inflicted.'
'Murder?'
'I don't know.'
'Shane, it's not your case. You can't work it. You'll piss off the primaries. You'll take a write-up from their captain. You know how territorial this place is. Where'd this happen?'
'Two detectives out of Harbor got the squeal, but they didn't look at it too hard and put it in as a suicide. Coroner agrees so nobody's got it now. There's nobody to piss off 'cause it doesn't even have a case number. A perfect vacation murder project,' I joked.
She wasn't laughing but had rocked back on her heels and was looking at me like I'd just grown antlers.
'I know, I know. But you had to know this guy,' I said. 'He wouldn't a killed himself.'
'Shane, I don't…'
'Sally, you can either help me, or you can get in my way. I've already decided to peel this wrapper. I may need somebody in here to lob information out to me if I can't get in. Wanta sign up to be my inside guy?'
'You mean you don't want to show up here and leave a computer trail alerting anybody to what you're doing,' she correctly surmised. 'You want me to blind screen it for you.'
'Yeah…' I said and smiled. 'You up for that?'
'I guess,' she said, not putting too much energy into it. We both knew if I had a suspicion that something wasn't right and had anything solid confirming that suspicion, I should take it back to Kovacevich and Cole and let them investigate it. Working without portfolio was not professional, and if she got caught doing my unauthorized computer runs, she could end up in the bag with me.
'Tell you what. Use my computer password. I'll deal with the fallout. I don't want this to land on you.'
'That's okay. I know how to finesse it.' She smiled ruefully. 'I've been your partner just long enough to become a devious cheat.'
'You're the best, kid. Gotta go,' I said, to get her to stop clocking me.
I led her around the corner and was heading toward the elevators when I saw a tall, imposing, six-foot woman in a polo shirt and slacks standing outside Homicide Special with a large purse over her shoulder, looking for a cubicle number on the listing board.
'Seriana?' I said.
She turned and spotted me.
'There you are,' she said. No smile. Intense eyes. Just like yesterday.
'Wait here while I get my stuff. I was just leaving.' I indicated Sally Quinn. 'Corporal Cotton, this is my partner, Detective Quinn.' When Seriana shook her hand, it was so large that Sally's slender one disappeared like a hard ball into a fielder's mitt.
'Be right back,' I said to Seriana. 'I gotta get my jacket.' We left her by the elevators and walked back into the squad room.
'That's some imposing woman,' Sally said. 'What Amazon tribe did you get her from?'
'Third Cavalry, U. S. Army. She's a Ranger heading back to Iraq for her second tour in a week or two.'
'Is she part of this thing too?'
'Yeah.' I grabbed my coat and my briefcase with Walts autopsy report. Then I faced Sally. Concern for me was spread across her freckled face. Til be okay, Sally. I've quit rolling gutter balls.' 'Since when?' she said.
I left her and headed back to Seriana Cotton and the ghost of Walter Dix.
Chapter 12
It was my second breakfast of the morning. I still wasn't hungry, so I just ordered coffee. Seriana had a bagel and orange juice. We were at a little coffee shop across from Parker Center called the Time Out. The place was full of day-watch officers on Code Seven and the background noise was somewhere between a din and a roar.
'Jack Straw said you didn't want to help us find out what happened to Pop,' she said.
'Jack Straw may not be the most reliable person to listen to.'
'Mr. Scully, I go back to Iraq in about two weeks. That means I've got to look into this right now, because I need to find out who did it. I know Pop didn't kill himself, but when I was a kid he did keep me from killing myself. I loved him. I owe him. Now I've got to do right by the man.'
'You're sure he didn't kill himself?'
'Absolutely certain, sir. For one, it just wasn't something he'd do.
He was religious. A Catholic. He believed suicide was a sin. For another, he promised to be at my going-away party before I redeployed. It's at my foster parents' house in South Central next Wednesday. When he made me a promise, he never broke it. Not once since I was eight years old. He wouldn't miss my send-off. You know how-Walt was.'
'Yes, I do.'
'In my unit, we've got this rule. We always get everybody home. Dead bodies included. You don't leave a teammate or his remains in the field. I gotta be sure I get Pop home.'
She was looking at me with those intense ink-black irises, her handsome ebony face showing almost no expression. I was beginning to realize this was her way. Her look. Her features rarely varied, but there was no lack of emotion. In her eyes, I could see pain and sorrow. T he eyes said it all.
'You're a cop,' she said. 'You knew him like the rest of us. He had to have made a huge impact on you. Look how you came from nothing and made something of yourself.'
It was exactly what Jack Straw had told me yesterday. Seriana continued. 'I know firsthand how hard that had to be. I know Pop helped you get there, just like he helped me. Jack said you agree he wouldn't kill himself. So why won't you help us find out what really happened?'
I reached into my small briefcase and pulled out the ME's report but left the copies of the gruesome autopsy photos behind. I shoved the file across the table to her.
'What's this?' she asked, opening it up.
'Pop's autopsy findings. I went to the coroner's office this morning and got a copy.'
'Then you are working on it.'
I shrugged, but didn't answer. Then I sat back and watched her as she scanned the lead paragraph, which, once you got through the medical babble, said it was death by his own hand. She finished and looked up at me.
'This is a lie.'
'No, that's a legal finding. Done by a competent medical examiner. No evidence of a beating. He had no drugs or unusual substances in his blood, and he left a suicide note.'
She studied me for a long moment. Her strong gaze was frank, unrelenting, and unsettling. I could see exactly what Alexa had been talking about. Seriana Cotton was definitely somebody who made up her own mind about things.
'Are you saying you agree with this, sir? You agree with this medical examiner that Pop killed himself.'
