*
It was late afternoon when cops started rolling in from the crime scene at the church. Elizabeth was in the old Mustang when it happened, parked on a side street north of the station. It was hot outside, shadows stretching out from buildings and trees and people walking to their cars. It was a normal day for normal people. Sunset coming. Time for dinner and family, time for rest. For the cops heading to the station, it was still early. Evidence needed to be processed, reports written, plans made. Even with Adrian in custody, Dyer would want uniforms on the street and detectives flogging every thin angle. Whatever his plan, he’d want it rock solid by the earliest news cycle. That meant all hands on deck, and Elizabeth planned to use the chaos to get what she wanted.
She stayed low as the tech van rolled past and turned for secure parking behind the station. Three patrol cars followed, and then Beckett and Dyer and two different attorneys from the DA’s office. James Randolph was last: a lump in the window, a glimpse of smooth scalp and unshaven face. That’s whom she wanted, a defiant, tough old bastard who thought rules should no more than graze an otherwise honest cop. He’d actually approached her after the basement and suggested she should have ditched the bodies and never said a word about it. She’d thought he was joking at first, but his crooked face seemed serious.
A lot of woods out there, pretty lady.
A lot of deep, quiet, dark-as-hell woods.
She gave him ten minutes inside the station, then called his cell. “James, hey. It’s me.” She stared at the window near his desk, thought she saw a shadow move. “Have you had dinner yet?”
“I was about to order takeout.”
“Wong’s?”
“Am I that predictable?”
“Let me buy it for you.”
She heard his chair creak and pictured his feet going up on the desk. “It’s been a long day, Liz, and a long night, coming. How about you tell me what you want?”
“You heard about Adrian?”
“’Course.”
“I want to talk to him.”
Seven seconds ticked past. Cars moved on the street. “Crispy beef,” he said. “Don’t forget the sticks.”
*
They met twenty minutes later at a below-grade door set flush with the concrete wall.
“Here’s how we do this.”
He let her into the building. The hall was painted green, the floor was buffed vinyl.
“We go quick and quiet, and you keep your mouth shut. If we pass anyone in the hall, try to look humble, and remember what I said about your mouth. Any talking needs doing, I’m the one that does it.”
“I understand.”
“I’m doing this because you’re a good cop and you’re pretty, and because you’ve never cared that I’m as ugly as an old tire. None of that means I’m willing to lose my job getting you in to see this son of a bitch. Are we clear on that?”
She nodded, mouth tight.
“Good girl,” he said, and offered the only smile she was liable to see. “Tight on my six; humble fucking pie.”
*
She did as he asked and wasn’t surprised that they made it unseen. They’d come in low and from the side. The action would be at the sergeant’s desk near the front of the building and in the detective squad upstairs. The holding area would be a dead zone this late, and they were counting on that. Rounding a final corner, they saw a single guard at a desk near the heavy, steel door. He looked up, and James waved an easy hand. “Matthew Matheny. How’s it hanging?”
Matheny crossed his arms, looked at Elizabeth. “What’s going on, James?”
“Why don’t you catch a smoke?”
“Are you asking or telling?”
“I don’t tell you what to do. Come on.”
Matheny looked at Elizabeth, his skin washed out in the fluorescent light. Like James, he was in his fifties and bald. Unlike James, he was thin and stooped, a mean-eyed man who, every day, seemed to hate his life a little bit more. “You know who’s in there, right? Public enemy number one.” Matheny pointed. “She may as well be public enemy number two. That makes this a big goddamn favor.”
“The lady just wants a word. That’s all.”
“Why?”
“What does it matter? It’s a word, an exchange of syllables. It’s not like we’re walking him out of here. Don’t be such a girl.”
“Why do you always do that? I don’t like it, James. I never have.”
“Do what? I’m not doing anything.”
Matheny stared at Liz, doing the math. “If I say yes, we’re even. I don’t want to hear about the day ever again. It’s done. Even if Dyer himself walks in here and finds her. We’re even forever.”
“Done. Fine.”
“I can give you two minutes.”
“She wants five.”
“I’ll give you three.” Matheny stood. “He’s in the lockdown cell. All the way down on the right.”
“Why is he in lockdown?” Elizabeth asked.