Nikki wondered if she should call Toby Mills’s manager, Jess Ripton, to notify him. Ripton had cooperated by providing photos and details about Granville, but the stalker’s specific request to see her was unusual enough to make Heat decide to see what that was about before inviting the brutish distraction of The Firewall into the mix. And to be truthful, she had to admit she was annoyed at the manager for being such a ballbuster every time they encountered each other. Making him wait an hour brought an undeniable passive-aggressive satisfaction she wasn’t proud of but could live with. Cops are human, too.
While she reviewed Morris Granville’s jacket to prepare for the interview, her phone rang. It was Petar.
“I heard that was you with Soleil Gray today and wanted to see how you were doing.”
“Holding up,” she said. The mental replay of the singer’s dive under the train spooled again in the sickening slow motion unique to traumas. Nikki tried to switch it off before the part with the blood on the white leotard but couldn’t. Then she realized Petar was asking her something. “I’m sorry, I missed that. What did you say?”
“I was asking if you wanted to get together on my dinner break.”
“Petar, you know, this may not be the best night.”
“I probably shouldn’t have called,” he said.
“No, it’s thoughtful of you, thanks. I’m just preoccupied. You can imagine.”
“OK then. I know you better than to push.”
“Smart boy.”
“Hey, if I were that smart, I would have learned that years ago. Anyway, I’m sorry you had to go through what you did today, Nikki. I’m sure you did everything you could.”
“I did. But it was in her head to do this. Soleil had something she couldn’t live with and found her way to end the pain.”
“Did she say what?”
“Unfortunately, no.” Heat made it a practice never to discuss details of a case with anyone outside the squad, so she slid by it. “All I do know is there was nothing I could have done.” Saying it made her feel a little better, though she knew that if she really believed it, she’d stop the replay and the search for what she could have done differently.
“Nikki,” he said, “I know right now isn’t the time . . . but I want to . . . see you again.” The weight of that notion and the complication it brought was off the charts for her to even consider, especially after her day.
“Petar, listen—”
“Bad timing, sorry. See? I pushed it anyway. When will I learn?” He paused. “What about a coffee or something tomorrow?”
Across the room, Detective Hinesburg appeared in the doorway and gave her a beckoning nod. Nikki picked up Granville’s file. “Tomorrow . . . Yeah, maybe we could do that.”
“I’ll call you in the morning. In the meantime, please know that if you want to talk, I’m here for you.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that.” After she hung up, she stared at her phone, feeling a little strange about his call and his pushing. Then Detective Heat cleared her head and strode off to Interrogation.
In the corridor she met up with Raley, who was outside Interrogation 1. “How’s it going with the lottery winners from East Harlem?”
“Ochoa’s in there with them now. Nothing yet.” He held up a package of peanut butter crackers and a bottle of hideous blue energy water from the vending machine. “The kid’s hungry, so I’m springing for dinner.”
“I’ll be in I2 with Toby Mills’s stalker. But let me know if anything breaks.”
Nikki stood a few moments in the Observation Room to size up Morris Granville through the glass before she went in. His file said he was forty-one, but in person he looked more like he was in his twenties. In spite of his receding hairline and the first strands of gray showing up in his thick brown curls, he had the look of a man-child. Chubby, short, with a pasty complexion and a slouchy posture that made his neck disappear into his double chin. He was alone and kept looking up at himself in the mirror across the room, but sideways, never facing himself. It was as if he kept checking to see if he would still be there when he looked back.
Granville sat up when Heat entered the room and sat down. His eyes, which had a permanent squint that made him look like he was always smiling, widened and fixed on her in a way that made Nikki feel uncomfortable. Not leered at so much as . . . gawked at with unearned admiration and intimacy.