Deadly Heat

Heat’s brain raced. She bolted outside just to move her body. She didn’t go

anywhere, just paced a manic rectangle on 82nd Street outside the precinct, dodging

the sidewalk smokers while she sought fresh air and clear thoughts. What she had

just seen on that security video might have only been circumstantial, but for the

jury in Nikki’s head, it was enough. But she would need more.

Now Heat had another deadly secret to keep. And, with time running out, she needed

to come up with a plan.

Sharon Hinesburg broke her concentration. “Nikki?” She sounded tense. Heat made a

slow blink to clear her mind and turned to her in the open lobby doorway. “Phone

call. Woman says she’s Salena Kaye.”





SEVENTEEN





Heat started at a speed-walk through the lobby, past the duty sergeant, but

something about the jolt of the buzz lock made the armored door feel like a starting

gate. She punched the push bar, flung it open, and broke into a jog. Hinesburg

chattered at her heels all the way, trying to keep up with Nikki’s pace on the way

to the squad room.

“I’m not absolutely sure it’s her.”

“What did she say to you, exactly?”

“I didn’t talk to her,” said Sharon. The switchboard transferred it. But remember

that tipster who called me the other day—”

“I do.”

“After I messed up with him, I didn’t want to blow this.”

“Good.”

“So I went and got you.”

“Are you running a trace?”

“Switchboard is on it already.” She read something in Heat’s glance and insisted,

“They are. Why are you looking at me that way?”

The bull pen was empty; all the other detectives were out on assignment. Hinesburg

pointed to Nikki’s desk. “It’s the blinking line.”

Heat reached for the phone, then hesitated. She took a few seconds to calm her pulse

and fasten herself to the moment. Be present, Nikki, she thought. No time to get

sloppy. Ready, she turned to Hinesburg. “Is this call set to record?”

“It should be.”

“ ‘Should be’? Really?”

“It’s set.” Hinesburg bent over the small tan junction box coupled between Heat’

s phone and a hard drive. She flipped the toggle switch to On and a green mini-lamp

lit. “Now it is.”

“Maybe you should go grab Raley.”

“I’m telling you it’s set. The call will record, just pick up.”

Nikki flipped to a clean sheet in her notebook and pressed the line. “Detective

Heat.”

“It’s me,” said the woman. And then, after a short pause, “Salena.” The voice

sounded like hers, only grittier and more subdued. Nikki tried to compare it to the

one she had heard a month before when Salena Kaye insinuated herself into her life

masquerading as Rook’s physical therapist. Back when the two of them laughingly

nicknamed her his Naughty Nurse and Heat had written her off as an airhead with a

massage table. So much for profiling.

Nikki said, “You’re going to have to prove it.”

“I expected that. Do you want me to tell you about the twin freckles on your

boyfriend’s ass or how the shit Vaja Nikoladze cooked up is going to kill a couple

thousand people?”

Heat ignored the personal bait. Instead her eye flicked to verify the green record

lamp. She said, “Let’s talk about what Vaja cooked up.”

“You first,” said Salena, who then chuckled derisively.

But lurking behind her contempt, Nikki heard something off in Salena Kaye’s voice,

something tight, like her bluster was fake. She sounded drunk. Or… afraid? Over

years of interrogation Nikki had learned that shifts in demeanor were huge tells. Of

what, she’d listen carefully for. “You called me. What do you want?”

After some throat clearing from the other end, a sigh. “Protection,” she said. “I

want to turn myself in, but I want protection.”

“Like you gave Petar?”

“Can you give it to me?” Her voice rasped, sounding throaty and dry. Definitely

scared. What was going on here?

Whatever it was, Heat didn’t let up. “What’s the problem, Salena? Running low on

people to kill?” There was a long pause and Kaye muttered something. “Speak up, I

can’t hear you.”

“They turned on me.” Another pause. The fear mixed with something else.

Remoteness, defeat. “They are going to find me and kill me just like Tyler Wynn.”

“Excuse me, but I believe that was you.”