Heat bobbed her head side to side. “I would only be guessing.” Although Nikki did have one idea she would keep to herself.
Detectives Malcolm and Reynolds came into the bull pen with fresh news from Forensics. The blood traces in the cargo hold of Carter Damon’s van matched Nicole Bernardin’s type. “They’re running it at the DNA lab for confirmation,” said Reynolds. “But I’d bet we hear a ding, for sure.”
Malcolm added, “Carpet fibers match positive for Damon’s work boots. And, even though there’s more fingerprints on that vehicle than an airport lap dancer, they also managed to isolate three big hits: Damon, Salena, and Petar.”
Behind them they heard raised voices and a door slam and all turned toward the glass office to see Captain Irons in a muffled shouting match with Detective Hinesburg, whose mascara had raccooned down the sides of her cheeks. “Trouble in the diorama,” said Feller.
“You guys didn’t see this morning’s Ledger?” asked Reynolds. “Metro column was all about wondering how a prisoner could die in custody.”
Ochoa said, “All the papers are on that.”
“Yeah, but Tam Svejda has a source who says one of the detectives dropped the ball on identifying Salena Kaye from surveillance video.”
“And we know who that source is, don’t we?” said Feller. “The survivor.”
Ochoa agreed. “Hey, if Wally’d knock a kid over to get on camera, why wouldn’t he save his ass by throwing Sharon Hinesburg under the bus?”
“Or, in this case, under the pressurized gas truck,” added Rook.
Heat cleared her throat. “Much as you know I love forming a gossip circle, maybe we could keep our heads in the game and get back to work?” But as they all returned to their desks, her own gaze drifted to the glass office and she secretly hoped if Hinesburg didn’t get transferred, at least she’d get a nice, fat suspension.
Rook joined her. “I’m going to head out. I have some work of my own to do. Outside stuff. No big deal.”
“Liar. You’re going to work this up as your next article, aren’t you?”
“All right,” he said, “as long as you’re forcing my hand, my editor at First Press e-mailed me to say that they’re going to do a major launch for a new online version of the magazine and think an exclusive on this case would be a perfect cover story to premiere on the new website.”
“And you know how much I loved the last article.”
“I promise, nothing about your sexual prowess, strictly facts.”
“Pants on fire.”
“Let me put this another way,” he said. “Would you prefer I do the article of record, or Tam Svejda?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Get crackin’, writer boy.”
“You won’t be sorry.”
“I already am.”
“Can I buy you lunch later?”
She lowered her eyes from his. “You go on. I’ve got something to do around lunchtime.” When he studied her, deciding whether to ask what it might be, she said, “Go on. I’ll see you at my place after work tonight.”
When she got to the door, she put her ear to it and heard nothing inside. Nikki rapped lightly to make sure the place was empty, and when nobody answered, she quietly slipped in and twisted the lock on the knob.