He looked up. “They have anything that’s not crap?”
She arched her eyebrows. “Seriously?”
“Bottle of water. Thanks.”
Micki got them both an H2O, and a pack of cheese sandwich crackers for herself.
Just as she was about to stuff the first sandwich into her mouth, Major Nichols stuck his head out of his office.
“Dare and Harris. Now.”
“Saved by the bell,” Zach said, hopping to his feet. He plucked the cracker out of her fingers and tossed it in the trash.
“I can’t believe you just did that. That’s my dinner.”
“That stuff’s poison.”
She shook her head. “God help me, you’re a health nut?”
“I prefer health advocate.”
“Just when I didn’t think you could get anymore annoying, Harris, here you go and surprise me.”
He grinned. “It’s only because I care.”
They reached the Major’s office before she could express herself verbally, so she settled for flipping him the bird behind her back.
Micki heard him chuckle a moment before Nichols snapped, “Close the door. Sit.”
Somebody’s in a mood. “Cracker, Major?”
She held out the pack. He refused, so she plopped onto the chair and stuck one in her mouth and crunched loudly.
He stared at her a moment. “Have I interrupted snack time, Detective?”
She washed the cracker down with a gulp of water. “Actually, dinner. But that’s okay.”
He opened his mouth, shut it, then said, “Update me on Ritchie.”
“Single gunshot wound to the head,” she said. “Recovered the shell and casing from the scene. .45 caliber. Crime scene techs collected his phone and we’re awaiting a list of calls made and received. Canvassed the neighborhood, nobody heard anything.”
“Thoughts?”
“Drug related. The Rouse’s had several security cameras, one pointed at the alley leading around back to the dumpsters, another at the rear entrance. Angle takes in the area where we calculate the shooter stood. Harris and I have a date with footage tonight.”
“Anything else?”
“I anticipate a suspect by morning. And if all the stars align, an arrest by noon.”
Major Nichols steepled his fingers, then began rhythmically tapping them together.
Micki had seen him do that before. Steeple equaled stack—as in he was about to blow his.
Damn. He’d heard about her and Zach’s roach-motel-side-trip.
“There’s something I need clarification on.” His steely gaze settled on her. “You took charge of the Ritchie scene, did you not, Detective Dare?”
“Yes, sir.”
“When in charge of a scene, what are your duties?”
Here we go. “I think I know what this is about, Major. If you’ll just let me—”
“Your duties, Detective?”
“Assure the scene is safe and that the perimeter isn’t breached.”
“And you take those duties seriously?”
“Very. I can explain—”
“So, when I get a report that you and Harris left the scene unattended for forty-five minutes, I should assume that report is false?”
She’d love to throw Hollywood Houdini under the friggin’ bus but, whether she liked it or not, they were partners.
“The scene was secure,” she said. “First officer at the perimeter, CSI processing.”
“So you did leave the scene?”
“Yes, sir.”
His face turned an alarming shade of red. “I might expect this inexcusable bullshit from some rookie, but not you Detective Dare.”
“I’m that rookie,” Zach said. “It’s my fault. She was following me.”
Nichols turned to Zach. “And where the hell were you off to?”
“Following a lead.”
“A suspect?”
“No, sir. A feeling.”
Nichols’ expression could’ve been funny. One of those OMG, LOL moments. The next million view sensation on YouTube. Could’ve been if Micki wasn’t afraid her superior officer was about to bust a blood vessel in his brain.
“A feeling?”
“More like an energy.”
Nichols began to sputter. Micki fought back the urge to laugh.
“Are you playing with me, Detective Harris?”
“No, sir. Chasing the intangible is what I do. That’s why I’m here, getting the big bucks.”
He said the last lightly. With only a touch of arrogance. Neither would go down easy with Nichols. When the other shoe landed, Micki thought, it’d be squarely on her ass.
“We have procedures, Detective Harris. Surely, the boys at Quantico explained them to you?”
“Yes, sir. But I had no choice.”
“And why’s that?”
“The energy is transitory. If I’d waited, it could’ve evaporated.”
Major Nichols massaged the bridge of his nose. “Okay, I’ll bite. And where did this . . . energy lead you?”
“Ritchie’s residence. The French Quarter Inn.”
Micki spoke up. “We found drugs. Distribution paraphernalia. Also stolen credit cards and driver’s licenses. It’s all been collected into evidence.”
“But not the shooter? Or a lead to the shooter?”