“Let me tell you something, Officer. If I was going to conduct surveillance on you, you’d never know it.”
This time Heat provided the narration. She looked up at the ceiling and said, “Invulnerable mercenary general covers ass for sloppy work with bravado, even as he makes mental note to seek and terminate the stakeout driver.” She lowered her gaze to him and said, “Rookie.” While he was digesting that she took out the e-mail from the archdiocese and recited, ” ‘You ever hear of a Tikrit Tune-up? I have, padre. You suffer until you pray to die and then you suffer some more. Lots more. The best part is when you call out to God for mercy and He looks down and spits upon your withered douche bag of a soul.’ ”
“He covered for that freak who touched my kid.” The CEO swagger was crumbling. The lid was sliding off the parent’s rage.
“You don’t deny writing this?” she said.
“You’re not listening! These guys spoil innocence and hide behind their cassocks and cover for each other.”
Nikki held up the page. “Because this description is very much like how he died.”
“Good. One less sanctimonious bastard protecting the child molesters of the world.” He sat panting, leaning forward on his thighs.
Nikki stood. “Mr. Hays, I’d give you my card, but I am sure you have fully researched all the ways to find me. When you have an alibi for that night, you’d better give it to me. Or I’ll be back and arrest you. At your . . . whereabouts.”
* * *
They waited until they got out onto the sidewalk on Vanderbilt, all three detectives assuming the place would likely be wired for sound, maybe even picture.
“What was that guy on?” said Raley.
“All calculated, Rales. Psy-Ops smoke screen.” Then Heat said, “I want you guys to dig away on Sergio Torres. Go back to his kindergarten if you have to. Girlfriends, gang members, cell mates, everyone. Find out who he’s connected to and we’ve got our killer.”
Ochoa looked up to the top of the black high-rise. “We were so close.”
Heat said, “Not enough. Hays gave us nothing solid. He only said he was glad it happened—not that he did it.”
“What about the e-mail, though?” asked Raley.
Nikki shook her head. “Any lawyer would punch holes through it because he never says technically he’s going to carry it out. His verbiage is rhetorical. The threat’s implied.”
Ochoa said, “Tell that to Father Graf.”
“We seem to be in the minority, but we all know this is a hell of a lot bigger than Father Graf, guys,” said Heat. “There was the attack on me, plus whatever Captain Montrose was into.”
“You don’t think he was part of the killing, do you?” said Raley.
“In my heart, of course not. But we need to keep on this without letting up so we can see where it goes.”
Ochoa said, “Too bad our new commander doesn’t see it the same way.”
Heat’s phone buzzed. She checked the screen and it was a text from Zach Hamner. “Pls come to 1PP conf. rm on 10 in 30 mins.” A rush of elation swept in Nikki’s chest. She replied with a yes and said to Roach, “Keep the faith, boys. Remember, Irons is only interim.”
* * *