Cruz dropped into the chair next to Madeline, keeping her in his line of vision. Her hair lacked the highlights it had glinted with in the sunlight, the fluorescent lights overhead turning it a pure dark red. She had it pulled back and wrapped in some sort of knot at her nape- a twist, he thought his sisters called it. He wondered how long it was and whether he’d ever see it hanging loose. The moment she turned her head to look at him, he caught his breath. Her eyes, which had been hidden by her sunglasses earlier, were a pure grass green, and tilted at the edges, like a cat’s. She was one hell of a good-looking woman, although not pretty in the insipid tradition preferred by fashion these days. Her mouth was a little too wide, her lips a bit too full to be conventional. She reminded him vaguely of that red-haired movie actress whose name he could never recall.
“Detective Casey will be joining us here at the Southwest District,” the captain told Cruz. “She’s being transferred in.”
Silently wondering how that information was supposed to affect him, Cruz quizzed, “What district are you transferring from?”
“The Northeast.” She stared at him steadily. “Know anybody there?”
He thought for a moment then shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
The room was silent for a moment, before Captain Ritter cleared his throat. “Well, I don’t want to tie you up the rest of the day, Detective Martinez, so I’ll get right to the point. I wanted to talk to you about that string of drive-by shootings you’ve been working on.”
Cruz nodded. “I think some were the work of rival gangs establishing turf, and others were probably retaliatory shootings. Of course, I don’t have much yet. The cases just recently got dropped in my lap.”
“I had a meeting with the police commissioner yesterday,” Ritter informed them. “The department has reason to believe that there’s a large-scale supplier who’s putting automatic assault weapons in the hands of these kids. There have been several other cases recently in which similar guns have been involved. Homicides, robberies, that attempted bank holdup at the First National?” His tone questioned whether Cruz had heard of it. He inclined his head, indicating he had. “We’ve seen more assault weapons used in crimes in the last few months than in the entire previous year.”
Cruz nodded. Drive-by shootings were alarmingly commonplace, but it had been the selection of guns that made these even more dangerous. AK-47s had been the weapon of choice in all the crimes the captain had mentioned, and that was an ominous similarity. Use of assault weapons in the commission of crimes was up seventeen per cent across the city this year. Cruz had never much believed in coincidence, and he had to agree with Ritter. Someone was selling these guns on the street, at prices too low for the gangs to resist.
“What I want, Detective,” Captain Ritter continued, resting his elbows on his desk and leaning forward, “is for you to drop everything else and concentrate your investigation on the supplier of these weapons. I want him found and stopped as soon as possible. If you’re right about these drive-by shootings being gang related, that means the weapons are already in the hands of kids. I hate to think of how widespread the distribution already is. I’ve already had your other cases reassigned.”
Cruz couldn’t keep his surprise from his expression. This investigation had to be critical to warrant clearing his caseload. It was customary for a detective to work on several cases at the same time, and only rarely had he ever been ordered to drop everything to concentrate on one matter, as the captain was requesting. But he hated being relieved of cases after he’d already become involved in them. “It sounds like the drive-bys might be related in some way to the distributor,” he said slowly. “I’d be glad to continue that investigation while working on the supply angle.”
Ritter shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. I want all your time available to wrap up this investigation as soon as possible.” He hesitated, and then continued. “I was telling Detective Casey earlier that you’re one of the best detectives in the district.” He paused, but Cruz didn’t respond to the compliment. “That’s why I’m assigning you as her partner, for the duration of this case.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“I prefer it that way.” Cruz felt compelled to continue. He turned his head to include Madeline. “No offense to my would-be partner,”
“Will-be partner,” Ritter corrected him. “That’s the way it’s going to be, Detective, at least on this case. You two can start pairing up tomorrow.”
His tone brooked no argument, and Cruz subsided. With one last long look at Madeline, he rose and left the room.
She started to follow him, but Ritter stopped her. “Shut the door, Sergeant. I have something else I want to discuss with you.”
Madeline obeyed, and returned to her seat. The look on the captain’s face would have been a glower had it appeared on another’s countenance. It only made his features appear more hang dog. However, there was nothing comical about the suppressed steel in his voice. “I know you didn’t choose this assignment, Detective Casey, but I feel compelled to share with you my distaste for it.” He gave her another fierce look, daring her to respond, but she remained silent. “I met with your captain at Internal Affairs yesterday, and I have to tell you, this whole mess bothers me. A lot. I don’t like Internal Affairs running undercover cases in my district, conducting investigations on my men. I especially don’t like it when one of my best detectives is under suspicion.”
“I understand, sir.”
His brows met over his nose at her even response. He rose to pace around the desk. “Martinez is a great detective. Uncanny instincts. He’s got the best record for closed cases in the district. He’s also on the fast track for lieutenant. One breath of scandal could freeze his career for good.”
“I assure you, Captain, one thing Internal Affairs trains us in is discretion.”
The man snorted. “You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t buy that. I’ve been around longer than you have, and I’ve seen a lot more. I don’t believe for one second that Cruz Martinez is involved in the supply of illegal weapons, or that you’ll find one shred of evidence to prove otherwise. But I am warning you, Casey-” he pointed a finger at her “-not to botch this case. Because if even a hint gets out that the job is looking at Martinez, I’ll hold you personally responsible. Do I make myself clear?”
She returned his stare calmly. “Perfectly.”
He frowned for a few more moments, but when she said nothing else, he waved her away. “You can go. I understand your captain at Internal Affairs wants to see you this afternoon.”
With his warning still ringing in her ears, Madeline rose and left the room.
As unpleasant as the final scene with Ritter had been, Madeline would rather have relived it than meet with Captain Brewer. Although the meeting was set for three o’clock sharp, she cooled her heels outside his office for almost half an hour before he was ready for her. Chronic tardiness was only one of Brewer’s less endearing traits. Even worse was his tendency to brief her on a case by presenting her with the file, then proceeding to lecture her on its contents. She’d never been able to figure out whether he did it to all his officers, or if he did it specifically to annoy her. She suspected the latter.
Once she’d been ushered into his office he had her report on every detail of her meeting with Martinez and Ritter that day. Twice.
“So you found him playing basketball, eh?” Brewer repeated. “How’d he look to you?”
Madeline’s face was blank. “Look?” Her powers of observation and her memory were legendary in the department, but she had a feeling that this man’s appearance wouldn’t have escaped even the dullest-witted woman. There was definitely something about Cruz Martinez that left a lasting impression.
“You know,” Brewer said impatiently. “How did he seem?”
She was quiet for a moment, wondering what the man was getting at. Finally she said, “He seemed… sweaty, sir.”
Brewer glanced sharply at her, but Madeline’s face was expressionless. “Very funny, Detective Casey. But what’s he like? How did you read him?”
Madeline knew it would do no good to point out how difficult it was to form an accurate assessment of somebody after being in his presence twenty minutes. And she would rather have her tongue cut out than share some of the impressions she had formed of the man. She took her time answering. “He seemed confident. Self- assured. I didn’t detect any nervousness about being asked to come in and speak to Ritter.” She shrugged. “If
