to track down the ex, in case Stan’s decided justice begins in the family.”
“Good idea, Sam,” Dawes said. “I’ll go back further in Dempsey’s file. She must have been listed as a contact at one time. And we’ve got Dempsey’s address book from his house. She might be in there.”
“If that doesn’t work, find out from Dempsey’s financials who his attorney for the divorce was,” Tippen suggested. “He’ll have the name of the wife’s attorney. It’s roundabout, but it works.”
Dawes nodded. “We’ve already checked with the DMV to see if he might have another vehicle registered. There’s nothing.”
“So he’s in his own car,” Tippen said. “Or has to boost something.”
“He won’t steal a car,” Kovac said. “It’s against the law.”
Liska gave him a look. “And torturing someone with a meat fork isn’t?”
“He sees that as justice. An eye for an eye. That’s his job. But he won’t break the law to do it. For one, that would be against his principles, to say nothing of stupid and careless.”
“What do we need with Dempsey’s shrink when we have Sam?” Liska asked.
Kovac looked to Dawes. “It’s just common sense.”
“Who have you got at Judge Moore’s house?” Dawes asked. “Since no one has any idea where Karl Dahl is, the judge will be Dempsey’s obvious first choice.”
“If he tries to get to the judge, I’ve got a unit on the house and a prowl car staying within a four-block area around the clock.”
“How’s Judge Moore doing?” Dawes asked.
Kovac shrugged. “She’s a tough cookie. She’s hanging in.”
“She’s tough, but her sentences aren’t,” Tippen complained.
“Give her a break,” Kovac snapped. “Someone beat the shit out of her last night.”
Eyebrows went up all around the room. Kovac felt his cheeks heat.
Liska broke the silence. “He’s trying to quit smoking again.”
As if that would explain any strange behavior on his part.
“Oh…”
“Hmm…”
“Well…”
No one looked directly at him except for the lieutenant.
“Nikki tells me you don’t think much of the husband.”
“He’s an asshole. I’m on my way to check out his alibi as soon as we’re done here.”
“You don’t think it’ll hold up?”
“He’s an asshole,” Kovac reiterated. “What’s the word on the videotape from the parking garage?”
Liska shook her head. “I wouldn’t recognize myself on that tape. See for yourself.”
She went to the television that was sitting on a cart in the corner of the room nearest Sam and started the tape rolling.
Kovac frowned. “This the best they could do?”
“Considering what they had to work with…”
The picture had a slightly better clarity, but the subjects were featureless.
“What’s that white thing on the back of the perp’s jacket?” Kovac asked.
“Some kind of logo, I suppose,” Liska said, “but there’s no chance in hell of ever being able to read it.”
“What about the check of the license plates in the ramp?”
“Nothing so far.”
“Not the Haas kid or his pal, or Ethan Pratt,” Kovac said, thinking out loud. “Anyone with priors?”
“Nothing,” Tippen said.
Kovac sighed, scratched his head, drank some coffee. His eyelids felt like they were lined with sandpaper. He pushed his chair back from the table and got up. “Are we done here?”
“You have better things to do?” Tippen said sarcastically.
Kovac stretched and yawned. “Yeah. I thought I’d go catch some bad guys, then maybe catch a movie or save the world or something.”
Liska batted her eyelashes at him. “A superhero’s work is never done.”
“You got it, babe,” he said. “Play your cards right, and maybe I’ll let you watch me change clothes in a phone booth.”
“So what was that about?” Liska asked when they were back in their cubicle in the squad room.
Kovac didn’t look at her. “What was what?”
“Last night you wanted to leave Carey Moore for dead. This morning you’re ready to defend her honor? What’s that?”
“I feel sorry for her,” he said, making a show of putting on his reading glasses to go back over his field notes. “She got the crap beat out of her while her husband is off fucking some bimbo and couldn’t care less what’s going on with his wife.”
“You know that?”
“I know when a guy’s lying about it. And she’s trying to pretend it’s not happening or that somehow it doesn’t matter to her. I don’t get that.”
“She’s embarrassed,” Liska said quietly. “It’s no fun to be the butt of the joke. Especially if you’re supposed to be tough and strong and the rest of that type-A-woman crap.
“This is the voice of experience talking,” she said.
Kovac pulled his glasses off and looked at her. She’d been married to a narcotics detective from the St. Paul PD long enough to have had two kids with him. They had come up through the ranks together, marrying when they were both still in uniform. The ex-husband-everybody called him Speed-was one of those bad-boy types women always wanted to reform. Liska had believed herself above that, believed she knew exactly what Speed was all about. But she hadn’t counted on his not being able to handle her success.
Nikki was a good cop, and ambitious. She had a drawerful of commendations from the department. She worked high-profile cases, got her picture in the paper every once in a while. Speed was a cowboy, reckless, always living on the edge undercover, the nature of his work keeping him out of the limelight. He had cheated on her over and over. A cruel kind of revenge for not being able to outshine her.
Kovac hated the guy. Always had.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “Good thing you didn’t take the judge home. You would have taken one look at the husband and castrated him on the spot. He’s a bastard, and she puts up with it because… I don’t know. They have a daughter; she’s got a lot on her plate being a judge… Maybe she just doesn’t have the energy to deal with him.”
Liska narrowed her eyes. “You like her.”
Kovac scowled. “I feel sorry for her.”
“No. You
“Jesus,” he grumbled, putting his glasses back on so he could avoid her laser gaze. “There’s no evidence to support your theory.”
“The hell there isn’t. I know you. I know your track record.”
“Prior bad acts,” Kovac grumbled. “Inadmissible.”
“Shows a pattern of behavior,” Liska argued.
“I barely know the woman.”
Liska sighed and just looked at him with a familiar mix of concern and frustration. He could tell she wanted to say more, but she bit her tongue on it.
“I have to go,” Kovac said, getting up from his chair. “What’s next on your agenda?”
“Follow-up on Bobby Haas. Unless I get an eyewitness who can put him or his buddy at the scene, I can’t connect him to the assault. I figured I would go and be supportive of him and his dad. See how they’re doing. Update them on Karl Dahl, not that there’s anything to report. Show Bobby what a kind, warm, and motherly person I am.”
“So you can break him down and feed him into the wheels of justice?”
