“Can I have a snack?” he said.
“No.” She continued in a more measured, even tone. “Rook. Let’s put a Tweet-size summary on what we’re staring at here: In a twenty-four-hour period, we have discovered one homicide victim and one highly suspicious death with one common denominator. You.”
“Should I ask for an attorney?” He chuckled, then dropped it when he saw the pair of lasers she leveled at him.
“Let’s be clear,” she said. “At this point nobody assumes you had anything to do with these deaths. But let’s walk it through. Yesterday morning we find a body with a bullet hole in his forehead. And it’s my shrink. Who works for the police department. You say nothing. We visit the practice of the victim and you’re there all through our investigation. You say nothing. You show up on video surveillance as having recently been to that very place—the practice of my shrink, the gunshot victim. You said nothing. Today, we track you to the auto safety proving ground all the way out in Staten Island. There, we come upon the suspicious death of the person you had an appointment with. You said nothing. Two deaths in two days. Rook, it’s time for you to say something.”
He paused to reflect, then shrugged. “Do I need to repeat myself? I am a working journalist, an investigative reporter. Yes, I am working on a story. And yes, I have been acquainted with both victims. But, Nikki, don’t you hold things back when you’re working a case? Well, I am working a story. I still don’t have all the pieces of the puzzle put together yet. It’s still a jigsaw scattered all over the rec room. I’ve seen bits and shapes, but they haven’t taken form yet. I need to continue my investigation—my way—and to do that, I need to be independent.”
“How can you say you need to be independent when you’re benefitting from all the information my squad and I are digging up? And you are sharing nothing.”
“Well, that’s a little harsh. I did lead you to the second victim. Wasn’t that helpful?”
“No, that wasn’t helpful!” she shouted in the voice she had promised herself she wouldn’t raise. “All it gave me was another body. And less to go on, not more.”
“Hey, know what I just thought of? What if I became a private detective? Jameson Rook, PI.” Then he dismissed the notion with a “Nah” and rose to go. “Well, keep me posted if you start to make more progress. And if anything lights up on my end—that I can share—I’ll be sure to let you know.”
“Sit down.” Heat let him settle back in his seat, then broke the silence. “I think you had better get a lawyer.”
“Why? A minute ago you said you were ruling me out as a suspect.”
And then the penny dropped for her. Nikki Heat had found her point of leverage. Something that would really go to the heart of Jameson Rook, two-time Pulitzer Prize–winning investigative reporter. “Maybe I’m not so sure of that now.”
He laughed. “Nikki, come on. Let’s not do theater here. What are you going to pull? Threaten me with the Zoo Lock-up?” Rook asked, referring to her technique of scaring naive and newbie interrogation suspects inexperienced with the criminal justice system into thinking that, if they didn’t cooperate, they would be locked into some subterranean Devil’s Island cage with society’s most violent, barbaric, and unclean criminals.
“Oh, I know the Zoo Lock-up wouldn’t bother you, Rook. In fact, you’d probably find it very colorful, make a lot of friends…perhaps even develop new articles to write for your magazine.” Heat cocked an eyebrow and smiled at him. “No, I think I would give you your own cell. A very quiet place. Far from others. Far from conversation. Far from your cell phone. Far from the Internet. Far from your ability to get out and interview subjects.” She could see his eyes widen.