“You know me, I love a big, juicy, rare hunk of speculation,” said Rook. “But, purely from my take on the guy? A drone shot doesn’t seem like Maloney’s MO. A little too much finesse. Agreed?”
Nikki didn’t reply. She had paused, absently fixing a blank stare on an area three tiles over from where she was mopping—the spot where she had wiped up her mother’s dried blood almost fifteen years before—and yet, it seemed, only yesterday…Then she resumed cleaning. Out, damned spot. “I don’t know what he’s capable of, although I got a good idea tonight.”
“You mean mind-fucking you with the Godiva box?”
“I mean by knowing what to put inside it.” She stood up, chucked the towels in the rubbish, and slammed its lid. She dropped her voice low so it wouldn’t carry to the Crime Scene Unit. “Rook, I think he did steal King’s files. Those details, the cinnamon sticks, the knife—hell, even my mother’s murder, in the first place, I talked about those things in my counseling sessions, and those would have been in Lon’s notes.”
Rook said, “May I point out that the facts were also in that cover story I wrote about you in First Press? And that includes the cinnamon sticks, the knife, and dozens of other case details in that article and the follow-up, both of which not only were available at any newsstand but are still there online. Except, of course, in most offices of the NYPD tonight. So now it’s my turn to tell you not to jump to conclusions or speculate wildly. What’s wrong with this picture? The shoe’s on the other foot, and I like it!”
Nikki rocked her head side to side as she considered all that. “Maybe. Maybe not,” was all she’d give him for now.
“By the way, thank you for trusting me enough to share your conversation with your shrink. It means a lot.” Then he couldn’t resist. “What else did you talk about?
She smiled. “I think we’d best leave it there. Some things are just mine to know.”
“Fine, absolutely.” But he couldn’t help himself. “Did I come up?”
Before CSU left, Rook gave them a set of prints to eliminate his from the batch they had collected. They asked for Heat’s, as well. Even though Nikki’s were on file, nobody knew how the hack attack would affect prints searches, so having hers at hand would save time. It really didn’t matter. They all knew the intruder had left no fingerprints or fibers.
“Don’t forget to bring your iPhone charger,” said Rook as he grabbed his jacket. “Forgetting it would add insult to injury.”
“I’ll take it in the morning. I want to stay here tonight.”
“Really? After what happened? It doesn’t creep you out or make you feel unsafe?”
“Why, does it you?” She unwrapped an alcohol wipe and used it to clean a smudge of ink off his thumb. “Because I’m fine with it. In fact, I think staying here tonight will make a little statement.”
Rook hesitated, then took a turn around the room. “How do you suppose he got in without a key?”
“Listen, if you are scared—”
“Not scared, definitely not scared—”
“Feeling cautious, then. The district commander is posting a car out front tonight.”
“To stop a nutjob ex-cop who’s got the balls—and the skills—to let himself into your place, undetected, and threaten you?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
He returned his jacket to the back of a chair at the dining table. “This little statement you want to make by staying here. It is directed at Maloney, right?”
“Who else?”
“Just wondering out loud. I would be lying if I didn’t tell you I am getting a definite sense of foot-dragging when it comes to our living arrangements.”
“Let’s not get into this. Not tonight.”
“It never seems to be a good time for you to get into this. Ergo, foot dragging.” She ignored him and pulled the liner out of her trash can. But he pressed on. “By the way, about this apartment? I don’t know if they keep official stats, but you must have the home invasion record in this building.”