She said, “If you know anything about me, you know I am not going to lie down.”
“I could fire you.”
“You’ll have to.” And then, as turnabout, she dealt him his own vulnerability card. “How will you explain that downtown? Because you must know I’m not the only one asking these questions.”
His jaw muscles flexed. He tilted his head to her, leveling a challenge. “Are you saying I can’t stop you?”
“You can’t.” Heat returned his stare, unblinking. “Make your call, Captain.”
He pondered a moment. Then, unhappy but resigned, he said, “Go ahead then.” And as she turned to go, he said, “Detective Heat. Watch your back. You may be poking into something you wish you had never gotten into.”
On her walk across the bull pen, Hinesburg said, “Detective Heat, you got a sec?”
“Actually, Sharon, not the best time.”
“I think you should make time.” There was something in the way Hinesburg presented herself that felt different. The bluff of arrogance was muted. Replaced by an uncharacteristic urgency.
“All right. What is it?”
In answer Detective Hinesburg handed Nikki photocopies of Father Graf’s phone records. There weren’t many calls over the month, so Heat was able to scan the pages quickly. She stopped abruptly, however, when she hit the last page, covering the prior week . . . the one before Father Graf was killed. There were numerous calls to and from two phone numbers Heat recognized—because she had called them so often herself. They were the office and cell phone numbers of Captain Montrose.
Heat looked up from the page to his office. He was standing at the glass wall looking at her. Just as they made eye contact, Montrose snapped his blinds shut.
* * *
In fewer than five minutes Nikki had assembled her squad at the Mur der Board. Detective Heat moved quickly before the captain had a change of heart about breaking the restraints he had placed on her investigation. She also wanted to energize her people by illustrating that this was a new day.
The revelation about Montrose showing up on the victim’s phone records was huge, but Heat decided not to bring it up at an open meeting. She had collected the file from Hinesburg and told her that she would take it from there. It would mean another confrontation, but the captain had already turned off his lights and left, so it would have to come upon his return. As painful as the meeting with her embattled commander had just been, her next session could make that one look like high tea.
They all took notes while she reported that the bruise on Father Graf’s lower back had likely been caused by handcuffs. “Isn’t that consistent with the whole bondage-torture deal?” asked Rhymer.
“Could be,” said Heat. “It could also be the best evidence that he was brought there against his will.” Ochoa raised a forefinger. “Question, Miguel?”
“He was a big drinker. Plastered the morning he disappeared, according to his activist group. Have we checked records to see if he got cuffed for a Drunk and Disorderly over the last few days?”
“Good thought,” Nikki said. “Sharon, when you get with RTCC on that snake tattoo, ask them to run this week’s ten-fifty complaints and see if Graf shows up.”