“I don’t have to tell you to dot all the i’s. This will hit the media soon, one way or the other. They’ll rip through him, but they’ll spotlight the department and the investigation.”
“Understood, sir.”
“For now, we’ll honor our officers. I’ve heard good things about your boy, Lieutenant.”
“My boy, sir?”
Tibble smiled, deepening the lines fanning out from his eyes. “Trueheart. You did well there.”
“Detective Baxter trained him. He did well.”
“I’ll make sure to tell him so. Excuse me.”
When Tibble moved off, Whitney turned to Eve, his dark, wide face sober. “It isn’t prudent or professional to tell a former senator’s wife to kiss your ass.”
“No, sir. I apologize for any difficulty my lapse caused you and the department.”
“My wife told her to shove it.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
Though his tone remained quiet and serious, humor, bright and unmistakable, fired up in his eyes. “Anna served on a couple of charity committees with Mandy Mira. In general, my wife’s anger is shown in cold disdain.”
“I’m aware,” Eve said before she could stop herself, but Whitney only chuckled.
“However, Mandy Mira flipped the switch, and among other unkind suggestions, Anna told her to shove it. She won’t serve on any committee or function with the senator’s wife any longer. She was delighted when she overheard my conversation with Mandy Mira last night, and enjoyed talking to our own Mira about the incident when Charlotte contacted me about it. Officially, I can’t condone your behavior.”
“No, sir.”
“Consider yourself reprimanded.” His face settled back into commanding lines. “Now, let’s give some good cops their moment, and get back to work.”
—
Eve stood on the stage with other ranking officers and those being promoted. She stood at parade rest through the speeches—mercifully brief—from Tibble, from Whitney. A scan of the audience showed every single member of her division in attendance, and, though she wondered who the hell was manning the ship, it made her proud to know every one of them—detectives, uniforms—took the time to be there for Trueheart.
She picked out Feeney, McNab, Mira, who like Trueheart looked a little pale, and to her surprise, Morris. As each officer’s name was called he or she stepped up to Whitney for the presentation, a few personal words from the commander, the photo op.
She could pick out family members by their glistening eyes during the applause.
“Troy Trueheart, Detective, third grade.”
Applause broke out hard and fast, and she managed to keep her face sober—even through the whistles and foot stomping from her division. She watched him cross the stage, a little flushed rather than pale now, and accept his gold shield.
“Lieutenant Dallas saw your potential,” Whitney said quietly to Trueheart. “Detective Baxter nurtured it. But it’s what you are that’s earned this shield. Congratulations, Detective.”
“Thank you, sir. Thank you, Commander. I won’t disappoint them, or you.”
He held his new shield up for the photo op, and did the right thing to her mind by looking straight at Baxter before he shifted his gaze to his mother and his sweetheart.
Then he turned to take his place at the back of the stage and sent Eve a grin that was Christmas morning, the Fourth of July, and New Year’s Eve all in one.
At the end, the newly promoted officers filed off the stage to more applause, and Eve wondered if the echoes of it would help offset some of the crap they’d have thrown at them daily on the job.
She went back, intending to work her way around, spend five or ten minutes to speak to whoever she had to speak to, then duck out, change, and get back on the street.
But Trueheart waited for her.
“Lieutenant.”
“Let’s see it.” She held out a hand, wiggled her fingers so he gave her his shield. “Nice. Keep it shiny, Detective Trueheart.” She gave it back to him.
“Yes, sir, I will. I just wanted to thank you. I wouldn’t be here, I wouldn’t have this if it wasn’t for you.”
“You got yourself here, with some good training from Baxter.”
“Sir, I hate starting my first day as detective correcting my LT, but I might still be walking the beat in Sidewalk City if you hadn’t taken a chance on me. And if you hadn’t put me with Baxter. Seeing I could do it, well, that’s why you’re the LT.”
“You’ve got a point. Congratulations, Detective.” She held out a hand.
He took it, swallowed hard. “I know you don’t really like this, but . . .” He pulled her in, wrapped his arms around her in a fierce hug.
“Hey. Okay.” She gave his back a pat, considering the moment, and nudged him away with her other hand, considering dignity.
“I wanted to get that done back here, before we were out there with a lot of people. Where you really wouldn’t like it.”
“That’s good thinking. Go see your mother.”
“Yes, sir!”
When she went out, Trueheart was wrapped around his mother with his girl—What was her name?—beaming at them and most of the division surrounding them.
She cut away to grab a minute with Mira.
“How’s Mr. Mira doing?”
“He insisted I come, and our daughter’s with him, so . . . He’s fine, really. He actually planned to go to the university today, but I put my foot down. He needs another day.”
“You didn’t get much sleep.”
“No, no, I didn’t. I have a lot of people I care about who put their lives on the line every day. It’s part of working with the police. I’ve lost some, and seen others injured. You live with it, cope with it. But Dennis . . . he lives a quiet life, and I wasn’t prepared to have him hurt like this.”
She stopped, drew a breath. “Well. I spoke with the governor.”
“Seriously?”
“Mandy’s not the only one with connections,” Mira said, and now her voice was brisk and cool. “He understands the situation and circumstances, and since he knows her . . . suffice it to say there’ll be no blowback from that quarter.”
“Okay.”
“I also spoke with Mandy.”
“You keep busy.”
“We detest each other, but I know how to read her, and how to push buttons. She hasn’t heard from him, there’s been no contact from whoever took him. She’s more angry than worried. If it wasn’t for Dennis I’d advise you to toss this case aside, but—”
“Look, I’m going to keep working this, but Hanson’s in a position to get warrants so he’s likely to get deeper than I can. But we’re on it, and I’ll be in touch. I’ve got to say something to Trueheart’s mother, then Peabody and I are going to have a talk with his current sidepiece.”
Mira laid a hand on Eve’s arm. “He won’t thank you for that, even if information you gather helps save his life.”
“Good thing I’m not in it for the thanks.”
She walked up to Trueheart’s mother, had to resign herself to another hug, this one a little on the weepy side.
“Thank you, Lieutenant. Troy’s wanted this since he was a boy, and you helped him reach that dream. Last night I asked him what he wanted now, now that he’d made detective. He told me he wanted to be as good a cop as you are.”
“Mrs. Trueheart—”
“Pauline, please, it’s Pauline. I’m glad you set the bar high. I don’t want him to settle for less. I want you to know he’ll be proud every day when he picks up his shield, and I’ll be proud of him.”
Eve wanted escape, wanted the work, but found herself speaking. “He’s smart, and he’s observant, and has a way of working through a problem thoughtfully. His looks don’t hurt. He looks handsome and homespun,” Eve explained. “And some people mistake that for him being a soft touch, easy to dupe. He’s not. And he’s got a shiny code of honor you should be proud of because I figure you’re the one who put it in him.”
“Thank you for that, thank you very much for that.” Her voice broke, her eyes welling up. “Sorry. Emotional day.” She gave Eve’s hand a squeeze, then hurried away.
“That was really good stuff to say to her.” Peabody stepped up beside her.
“She started crying again.”
“It’s a mom thing.”
“Let’s get the hell out of here and go do the cop thing.”
“There’s cake.”