“Or is it just ego?”
“Know your problem, Nikki? Your problem is, you don’t entertain the conspiracy theories enough. You could benefit from a soup?on of paranoia in your Occam’s razor–sharp mind. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea for you and Tim Maloney to hang out. Spend a day. See what rubs off. Suddenly, black-ops projects like time travel, acoustic weapons, and cloaks of invisibility wouldn’t seem so far-fetched.” His iPhone sounded to signal an incoming email, and he stood while he read it.
“Let me guess. Summons from Dumbledore?” But after Rook’s playful nerdist rant, Nikki could see him turn sober and contemplative. “Everything OK?”
“Hmm? Oh, yeah, sure.” He slipped his phone into his pocket, gave her a kiss, and told her he’d see her later back at his place.
Heat perched on a file cabinet in Roach Central and briefed Raley and Ochoa on her conversation with Internal Affairs. “Think it did any good?” asked Raley.
“Like scratching after poison ivy, Rales. Kinda feels good, only makes it worse.”
Ochoa said, “I want to put a plain-wrap car outside Maloney’s apartment. He’s been a cop, he’ll make it. He made us. Lets him know he’s still on our radar.”
“You just want to spend my OT,” she teased.
“That there—that’s captain talk,” said Raley. “First day as precinct commander’s not over, and you’re busting our balls over the budget.”
“Go ahead. Order the car.” Then she added, “More poison ivy, but why the hell not?”
Miguel glanced up at the clock. “We’ve got another good hour to go here. But you oughta call it.”
Nikki almost said good night, then sat back down. “I need to talk about something.”
“Anything,” they said in unconscious unison.
“Lon King.” She cleared her throat. “I may have led you to think I only had my introductory visit with him. Actually, I had about ten sessions with him over the past few years. I don’t know why I held back. It’s personal, you know? Not the sort of thing you advertise.” What she meant was, not the sort of vulnerability you advertise. And Roach’s nods indicated they got it. “But this is a homicide we’re dealing with, and I don’t want to keep secrets from you.”
“There’s enough of that,” said Ochoa. He had second thoughts about that and backpedaled. “I mean IA.”
Heat made it easy. “And Rook. We all know that.”
A still moment passed among the three of them in the empty bull pen. “Must be tough,” said Raley at last. “You and Rook. Both have big jobs. Stressful jobs. Competing jobs, sometimes. Like now. Guess it’s bound to happen, right? What you need smacks head-on into what he’s holding. Guess he’s lucky it’s you, and not IA.”
And in that instant, clarity came to Nikki. This situation was all very complicated, but also very simple, if she let herself see it objectively. “Fellas?” she said. “He knows something about this murder and he’s getting a pass.”
“A press pass,” joked Ochoa.
But the quip was lost on Nikki, who stayed her pensive course. “Let’s be honest. It’s not just because he’s a reporter, it’s because of our relationship. If he weren’t my fiancé, I know exactly what I’d do. As my duty to the case. And to the victim.” She rested her hands flat on her thighs to steady herself. Then she said the words before her newfound clarity could be muddied by emotion: “Budget one more undercover car. I want you to put a tail on Rook.”