“No one was supposed to be talking to me,” Maureen said. “And you’re Homicide, over at HQ. I know Skinner wanted to keep things as much in the district as possible.”
“I can’t even give the impression,” Atkinson said, “that I’m reaching into his shop for my own ends. I can’t disrespect him like that.”
“I wasn’t waiting for it,” Maureen said. “For you to swoop in and save me. You, Preacher, anybody. I knew what I had to do. I did it. And here I am. Case closed.”
“You’ve probably heard it already,” Atkinson said, “but you haven’t heard it from me, and I was there at the river, at the end. And I know my opinion matters to you. Quinn didn’t become who he was because you showed up. The rot got inside him years ago. Ruiz, too. Everyone who dealt with Quinn knew what he was, who he was. Some approved, some didn’t, some changed their minds about what side they were on after things turned bad for him, but we knew the truth about him. It’s not on you. It’s not your fault things went so hard for him. And you’re not stained with what he did or how he ended up. Not as a cop, and not as a person. Anybody worth anything in this department knows that. You should, too.”
“You know how it goes,” Maureen said. “You can understand things intellectually, but the rest of you can be slow to catch up. It’s human nature to look back on bad shit and wonder what you could’ve done different. I’m getting there. About a lot of things.” She unzipped her jacket, reached inside for her cigarettes. She offered one to Atkinson, who accepted. “And maybe guilt-wise I’m not stained with Quinn’s bad decisions, but in other ways I am. I’m that girl who that bad thing happened to. That girl cop who was mixed up in that thing with Quinn. I don’t want to be that girl that bad thing happened to that one time. I don’t want that name.”
She paused, weighing what to say next. “I’ve already been that person. It sucks. It’s part of the reason I left New York.”
“Make a new name for yourself,” Atkinson said. “That’s your answer.”
“You say it like it’s easy.”
“No, it’s not easy,” Atkinson said. “And you, you’re always in such a hurry. That’s what upsets you, that you can’t make that new name in a week. I’ve never met anyone less afraid of hard work and who works with so little patience at the same time.”
Patience. Atkinson’s favorite word. There was a reason they called her the Spider. She used time as a weapon, wielding silence like a hammer, like no one Maureen had ever seen. Maureen thought of Preacher’s comments at the PJ’s about going from the shithouse to the penthouse in record time. If there was ever a way to sell her on something, Maureen knew, the promise of a quick trip was it. She remembered that Preacher had said it was Atkinson who’d sent Detillier the FBI agent looking for her. A move that made bringing Maureen back on the job that much more appealing to DC Skinner. Atkinson hadn’t saved her, Maureen thought, but she had helped her.
“The FBI guy, Detillier,” Maureen said. “He’s going to be interested in this. He asked about Leary when I talked to him the other morning. He wanted to meet her.”
“You think he knows she’s dead yet?”
“I doubt it,” Maureen said. “Nobody here knows the FBI cared about her except for me and you and Preacher. He thinks she was the FBI’s best bet for information on the Watchmen. So much for that.”
Atkinson shook her head. “All those resources and chasing the same homeless schizophrenic we were chasing is the best they can do?”
“That’s what I said,” Maureen said. “Though to hear Detillier tell it, their resources aren’t any more plentiful than ours. I told him he was wasting his time with her. That they should be bearing down on the Heaths.”
“Ah. A nonstarter, I’m guessing?”
“What do you think?” Maureen said. “Even Preacher’s telling me to drop the subject. Tomorrow afternoon, I’m having that meeting with Leon Gage, the one that Detillier requested. I’m sure I’ll be talking to Detillier after that. What do you want me to tell him? How do you want me to handle what happened tonight?”
“Don’t worry about me and the FBI,” Atkinson said. “I can handle them. If Leary was nothing but a lead on the Watchmen to Detillier, he’ll lose interest in her. It’s not like she had friends for him to talk to. I’ll have the case to myself, which is how I like it.”
“The case?”
“Let me ask you,” Atkinson said, “what do you think happened here tonight?”