Silver Justice

pentagon, and we’re going to have to get Kennedy in front of some doctors soon so they can certify that she’s doing well. Nobody works for free, as you know…my hunch is that we’ll be through your retainer within another three weeks, tops. I meant what I said — I can carry another twenty-five, so let’s say that buys you another six weeks. You’re going to be in real trouble within two months, Silver. That’s your timeline.”

That bought her a month more than she’d had when she walked through the doors today. It wasn’t a reprieve, but it was better than nothing.

“Silver, I don’t want to meddle, but have you considered selling the flat? Or maybe you can do some sort of creative financing deal on it? An interest only loan for a year or two? To get you past this point?”

“I can’t rack up a lot of debt I can’t pay back, Ben. And frankly, I don’t know who to approach to do something creative, as you call it. I’m buried with work, and I really thought that the bank would be able to do something. I mean, even in this market it has to be worth at least seven or eight hundred thousand. You would think they would jump at the chance to lend me a hundred or so against it.”

“Banks aren’t lending money these days, as you’ve discovered. They’re hoarding cash. Tell you what, Silver. Let me make a few calls. I know people who specialize in these sorts of things. I have one in mind who might be able to put together a decent package you could afford for a year, and then you can cross the sale bridge when you come to it. If you prevail in this, I can go after Eric for restitution given that this is imposing a hardship on you, so you could pay it back then — and if you don’t prevail, well…”

“…then Kennedy won’t have to worry about having a roof over her head, and I can sell the place and move somewhere more in keeping with my new lifestyle.” She took a deep breath. “I hate this, Ben. I hate Eric, I hate the system that allows this, and I hate the universe at the moment.”

“You’re within your rights to hate everyone, Silver. It stinks.”

“At least I don’t hate you.” She gave him a tentative smile.

“I have that going for me.” Ben looked at the clock on the heavy wooden bookcase at the far end of the room. “I’ll put out the word and see what I can do, Silver. And I’ll have my bookkeeper send you an updated statement via e-mail, unless you can wait for it for a few minutes.”

“No rush. I almost don’t want to know. E-mail will be fine, Ben. Just fine.”

Silver was on her computer studying the forensics report on the latest killing when her line rang. She glanced at the number and saw it was Monique at the front desk.

“Hi, sweetie. I have a Glenn from the Herald on line two. Asked for you.”

“The Herald? Did he say what he wanted?”

“No, just wanted to speak to you. I didn’t interrogate him, though. Want me to? I could play bad cop…”

“You aren’t a cop, Monique. Okay, put him through.”

Music on hold intruded for a moment, the line beeped, and a man’s voice came on.

“Hello? Special Agent Cassidy?”

“Speaking. How can I help you?”

“Agent Cassidy, I’m doing a follow-up to our series of reports on The Regulator, and I wanted to see if the Bureau had anything to add. Briefly, I’m stating that you are running a task force focused on his apprehension and that so far you have no leads to speak of. Would that be correct?”

Silver didn’t like the way this was starting at all. “Who am I speaking with?”

“Oh, sorry. I’m Glenn Wexler with the Herald. I’ve written the series so far. Maybe you’ve seen my byline?”

“No, can’t say the name is familiar. How did you get this number and my name?”

“Your agents came by to look at the computers, and one of them gave me your name.”

“I see. Mind if I ask who?” Silver tried to remember who had gone over to the Herald, and then recalled it was Simkins, and…Sam.

“I’m not sure I remember. I don’t think I took any notes.”

Of course not. She suspected he could recite their badge numbers if it would save his skin, but when she wanted info, memory always seemed to elude the media.

“Well, I would direct you to our press office. I have no comment.” Silver knew better than to dole out any information to a reporter who was fishing.

“I was hoping for something more than a two-day wait for the press flunky to tell me that he can’t confirm or deny anything…”

“I’m quite sure you were, Mr. Wexler. But that’s protocol. I’m sorry I can’t help you, but that’s the way we do things.”

“Fair enough, but I’m still going to be writing the article based on information I’ve been able to glean. It’s a free country,” Glenn said, sounding annoyed.

“Yes, it is free, and if you want to write an article that basically says nothing, you just described it. I’m sure it will sell a lot of papers. Good luck with that.”

She disconnected, wondering why she’d gotten the call at all. It sounded like someone on the task force was talking out of turn to the press. Either that or he was bluffing and had used her name and rank as entre to attempt to get some info. But she’d been around the block enough times to know that reporters were rarely her friend when running an investigation. Three other papers besides the Herald had received the photos from the killer. All three had contacted the FBI immediately. Only the Herald had chosen to print them, which figured. The others were more upscale rags, whereas the Herald was sensationalistic and played gutter ball.

There was no way in hell she was giving them anything more than they already had, which was nothing by the sound of it. The reporter was just trying to find another angle to milk. Articles that said, ‘Police still looking for killer’ didn’t sell papers, so the fact that he was calling told her everything she needed to know. The press office had already said there was a task force focusing on the killer, so that wasn’t news.

Silver hit the intercom button and punched in three digits. A male voice came on the line.

“Sam. Could you please come to my office for a second?”

Sam hesitated before answering, and when he did, he sounded impatient. “Uh, sure. I’m not doing much besides sorting through hundreds of images of pedestrians. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

He was becoming a problem. The tone, the attitude — she’d given him as much latitude as she intended to.

Another in a long series of unpleasant tasks. Just her luck. When it rained…

Sam sauntered in five minutes later with an expression of mild annoyance. Silver stood and gestured to a pair of chairs in front of her desk. Sam sat and gave her a quizzical look.

“I just got a call from a reporter at the Herald. He knew my name and that I was running the task force. Any idea how he came by that information?”

Sam’s face went blank, which she knew from working with him meant he was considering lying. His eyes always gave him away — a dart to the right, just for a second, even though he’d obviously practiced his poker face. She would have been able to beat him every time if they had been playing for money. Maybe if all else failed that was an option for funding Ben.

“Damn. I’m sorry. He must have heard your name when we were at the Herald offices. I might have mentioned it, or Simkins could have. I honestly don’t remember. But that’s the only thing I can think of.”

Completely non-disprovable and appeared to be taking the blame for both of them. Sam would do well in politics, she decided. Very polished.

“Hmm. I can see where that could happen. Listen, Sam, since I have you here, I want to get something else out in the open. I’ve been noticing that you seem to have a problem with many of my decisions lately. That’s coming out in your tone as well as our interactions. What’s that about?”

Sam shrugged. “We aren’t always going to agree on everything.”

“See? That’s what I mean. Your demeanor is flippant and disrespectful. No, let me finish.” She held up her hand so he wouldn’t interrupt — she could see that he was going to argue. “Sam, I don’t want a bunch of automatons on my team. I don’t need a group of yes-men. But I do expect respect, just as I treat everyone else with it. I don’t have to explain myself or put up with any thinly veiled, snarky bullshit. If you can’t get your attitude back in line, I’ll transfer you elsewhere — do I make myself clear? If you have a personal problem with me, then