But Heat wasn’t done gauging what she was up against. The invocation of national security seemed like overkill in a double homicide and a probe into auto safety. “Congressman Duer, I’m afraid I’m going to need more to go on than that.”
“Maybe you’re not as smart as you seem. So let me come at it another way. You think you know what you’re doing, but poking around blind like you are, all you’re going to do is end up sticking your hand in a sack of rattlesnakes.” Satisfied with the picture he had painted and the clear warning he had delivered, Duer studied the burnished eagle’s head on his cane, the one he had been given the day he was released from Bethesda Naval Hospital after losing a foot in the battle of Quang Tri. “That give you plenty to go on?”
Heat digested all this and said, “Congressman, I have the utmost respect for you, your office, and your committee.”
The lawmaker shook his head. “Here comes the but.”
“However, I don’t take orders on conducting homicide investigations from anyone other than NYPD. Surely, you can understand.”
“Unfortunately, I do. All I’m going to say is I suggest you think long and hard about this.” He turned to Swift, signaling that he was done, then back to her. “And now, since I’m through explaining, why don’t you put those getaway sticks to use and move along.”
As she stepped onto Greenwich Street, Nikki was too busy pondering the ramifications of that conversation to feel objectified. Or to care. This was one of those moments that came in a case where she wasn’t sure if she was walking out of a meeting with information or disinformation. One thing Heat knew for sure was that there was no such thing as a simple murder. Double that for two. Now, one of Washington’s most powerful players trying to knock her off her investigation had added a new layer of complexity. But it had done something more: fueled her determination to dig even harder for the truth.
The not-unexpected bad news in the Homicide Squad Room back at the Two-Oh was that Tangier Swift’s fixer had gotten sprung. “Eric Vreeland was not only released,” reported Ochoa. “No bail, no charges.”
“What happened with your lineup?” asked Heat. “Couldn’t Stallings ID Vreeland?”
Raley said, “Oh, he picked him out. Right away. But the PI’s bulldog of a lawyer gets to Stallings on the side and plants uncertainty in him about whether Vreeland was out in the public hallway or inside the apartment itself.”
Nikki said, “But Stallings told us he ran into the guy inside, in his foyer.”
“You know how it goes,” said Ochoa. “Fog of war, heat of the moment, seeds of doubt. Take your pick.” In fact, Nikki had seen it often, as every cop had. Otherwise-reliable eyewitnesses conflate or confuse details that seem indelible to those not caught up in the trauma of the incident. Criminal defense lawyers have seen it, too, and Helen Miksit jumped at the opportunity she had created.
“Also, with the backlog of craziness from the cyber attack, the DA’s office didn’t want to spend the effort on an uncertain complainant.” Detective Raley spoke for them all by adding, “Sucks big-time.”
“Always does,” said Heat.
But Rhymer was taking it almost personally. “Doesn’t seem right. I pull an all-nighter, nosing through mug books, and the dude’s out of here before I get back to even see what he looks like.”
“About like this.” Ochoa held up the sketch Rhymer had been working from, and they all got a laugh.
When Heat filled the squad in on her encounter in Tribeca, the roomful of born skeptics didn’t buy the national-security no-fly zone any more than Nikki did. “If there’s a security threat, it’s from a doucher with a politician in his pocket,” commented Rhymer. “I mean, I can’t say one way or the other whether Kent Duer is crooked, but at the very least, with what campaigns cost now, I’d lay odds the congressman’s getting some major fund-raising done at a one-stop shop.”
“And what does Tangier Swift get?” asked Raley.