He felt a nearly uncontrollable urge to tell her to follow him to a restaurant, to tell her everything he knew. But even as he thought this, he realized that he could not bring himself to talk to a reporter about mere suspicions, especially ones that would damage the reputation of the entire department. “Just tired,” he said.
She studied him, then said, “Can I give you a lift somewhere?”
Behind her, he saw Vince Adams step out of the building. Adams noticed who he was with and gave him a look of disgust.
She followed Lefebvre’s glance and said, “They’re just jealous of the attention you get, you know.”
“It doesn’t help me to have them jealous,” he said.
“What’s bothering you today?”
He smiled. “Do you really care, or are you looking for a story?”
Her chin came up. He thought, wryly, that he had just given Baird the same look of disappointment.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’m in a terrible mood. Come by tomorrow and maybe I’ll be better company.”
“Lunch?”
“Sure.”
She started to walk off, then paused and said, “Take care of yourself, Phil.”
He walked with no set purpose. When he realized that he was some distance from the office, he hailed a cab.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
He started to say, “Police headquarters.” Instead, he reached into his shirt pocket, found Elena’s card, and asked the cabdriver to take him to a corner near her address. He would just take a look at her neighborhood, he told himself. Get a sense of where she lived.
She unlatched the last of the locks and opened the door, standing back as she said, “Come in.” She was wearing a short, silky yellow robe, and her hair tumbled down over her shoulders. She looked drowsy — sleep-softened and warm.
“I’ve awakened you,” he said as he stepped into her apartment.
“I’ve been thinking the same thing for weeks,” she said, and began loosening his tie.
8
Friday, June 22, 5:45 P.M.
Elena Rosario’s Apartment
“It’s a good plan,” she said, straightening the tie she had removed several hours earlier. She moved her hands into his hair.
He traced the curve of her spine, not ready to let go yet. “I’m not sure. If it weren’t for Seth—”
“I know.” She looked up into his eyes. “Whatever you decide.”
He pulled her closer, held her to him, and said, “Promise me you will be careful.”
“I will. You too.”
Reluctantly, he let her go. “I’ll leave first. If you see anyone follow—”
“I’ll page you.”
He saw the worry in her eyes. “Elena—”
“I’ll be fine. Don’t make me one of your problems.”
He smiled, thinking of how, despite all the tension and trouble in his life right now, she had made him feel good, had eased some ache within him. “Sometimes,
“What’s an
“Angel.”
He left hearing the warm sound of her laughter.
He did not step out into the street until he had studied it for a moment. Seeing no sign of anyone watching the building, he walked a block south. He unbuttoned his coat and kept his hand near his weapon. He continued for a few blocks, to a coffee shop. He used a pay phone there to call Lieutenant Willis.
He was surprised when the lieutenant answered over a speaker phone — the lieutenant disliked using the speaker. “Lefebvre? Glad you called.” His voice sounded tinny. “Captain Bredloe and Pete Baird are here in my office. The captain wants to talk to you.”
He heard Bredloe’s voice, a little closer to the phone, and deeper. “Everything okay with you, Phil?”
“Yes, but — actually, I was calling to ask the lieutenant for a few days off.”
There was a pause, then Bredloe said, “I happened to overhear — there was an incident here this morning —”
Lefebvre heard a chair squeak and pictured Baird shifting in discomfort. So Baird was getting his ass chewed out. “Nothing of any importance,” he said quickly.
“We haven’t seen you since then, and your car was still here, so we became a little concerned.”
“I went for a walk, that’s all.”
“For seven hours?” Baird’s voice said. “The
“Detective Baird,” Bredloe said repressively.
