‘I heard you with TJ. The Serrano thing tomorrow. You’re going along.’
‘That’s the whole point, Michael.’
‘Al’s going to be there.’
‘Why not a whole team?’
‘Because that’ll set off alarms.’
‘And what if some banger finds out you’re in Motel Six with one of his boys and he sends in a team of shooters?’
‘I’ve thought about that. It’s an acceptable risk.’
‘Oh, define that.’
‘Michael.’
‘Just take a weapon. That’s all I’m saying.’
Oh, so that’s what this was about. ‘I’m Civ Div, and I—’
‘You are not. You’re full investigative. That’s the way you’re acting, at least.’
‘Well, I can’t have a gun. Procedures. There’s no alternative.’
‘Take one anyway. A Bodyguard, a Nano. I’ll give you one of mine.’
‘It’s a breach of—’
‘It’s only a breach if you get caught.’
‘And getting caught could ruin everything.’
‘Okay, Serrano’s your priority. You want to play that out, fine.’
Like he was giving her permission.
‘Then give up Solitude Creek. I’ll run it with my people. Coordinate with TJ and Rey. Even bring Connie Ramirez in.’ His voice was raw, like a purple line of storm cloud moving in. He added, ‘CBI’ll get full credit.’
She scoffed, ‘You think I care about that?’
His eyes looked away, answering: No, of course not. His comment had been a reflexive jab.
‘Michael, I can’t give the case up. Simple as that.’
‘Why not?’
Because she couldn’t.
He persisted, ‘Tonight, at the Goldschmidt house, you weren’t even supposed to be canvassing. You were supposed to stay at the scene.’
‘“Supposed to”?’ Her voice was raw.
‘And I find out you’re down near Junipero Manor, with the perps? You should’ve called me first. If they’d stayed around, they might have had something else in mind – nailing the law that’s after them, for instance. Some neo-Nazi assholes, who cart around Glock forties?’
O’Neil continued, ‘Or in Tustin today, if the unsub had turned right coming out of Prescott’s apartment, after shooting the deputy, not left, he would’ve run right up on you.’
‘We didn’t know he was there. We were going to talk to a witness.’
‘We never know what direction a case’ll take.’
‘You want me to sit in a room and talk my suspects into confessing on Skype? It doesn’t work that way, Michael.’
‘Remember your kids.’
‘Don’t bring my children into this,’ she snapped.
‘Somebody has to,’ he muttered, in his infuriatingly calm, though ominous, tone. ‘Nailing the Solitude Creek unsub, Kathryn? It doesn’t have to be you.’ He dropped into the front seat of the car, fired it up.
O’Neil didn’t skid angrily out of the driveway – he wasn’t that way. On the other hand, neither did he stop, reverse and return to apologize.
She watched the taillights until they disappeared in the fog.
It doesn’t have to be you …
Except, Michael, yes, it does.
CHAPTER 53
Wes was in bed, texting, when she went in to say good night.
‘Hey.’
‘Hi,’ he replied.
‘Got home late, I heard.’
‘Yeah. Flat tire. Had to leave my bike at Donnie’s.’
‘You didn’t call for a ride? Jon could’ve picked you up.’
‘Yeah, well. I was bummed about Karen. The dance. She’s going with Randy.’
True, not true? It seemed deceptive. But after this impossible day, her kinesic skills weren’t firing on all cylinders. Besides, it would exhaust and alarm you to analyze everything children said.
She didn’t push. ‘When you say you’ll be home in fifteen, you’ll be home in fifteen. There’ll be consequences if this happens again.’
‘Yeah. Okay.’
‘Helmets?’
‘Yeah, Mom. Helmets.’
‘Night.’ She kissed him.
Into the next bedroom.
‘Mags?’
Maggie was asleep. Dance tucked the blankets around her and latched her window. Kissed her head.
At close to midnight she and Boling walked upstairs to her bedroom. He had here a set of clothes in a gym bag, which represented a tentative escalation in their relationship. This was fine with her: some clothes, not wardrobes’ worth.
No rush …
She showered and dressed in PJs and crawled into bed next to him. They lay thigh to thigh, and she sensed he was ready to talk about her day if she wished but wasn’t going to push it. Thank you, she thought silently, and squeezed his hand as a gesture of the thought, which she knew he understood. She wondered if he’d heard the argument between her and Michael O’Neil.
She asked, ‘How’s Mags doing?’
‘I kept an eye on the Skype session with the Secrets Club gang. Bethany’s quite the young lady. I expect to see her as the head of the State Department in a few years. The White House is an option too. I think they were using codes. I couldn’t figure them out. Like they’ve created their own language.’
Dance laughed. ‘If they put half that energy into schoolwork.’
‘When I was a kid and supposed to take a shower, I spent more time running the water, getting a towel wet and rubbing dirt from the floor on the washcloth than if I’d just jumped in. Something about getting away with it.’
‘Did it work?’
‘Not once. But I kept trying. Oh, not to worry, I’m over shower-cheating now.’
Her mind returned to the argument she’d had with O’Neil. Her gut clenched and she felt a flash of anger. She realized that Boling was saying something else.
‘Hmm?’
‘Just goodnight.’ He kissed her cheek.
‘Night.’
Boling rolled over on his side and in a few minutes he was in enviable sleep.
Dance realized she was staring intently at the ceiling. Then she told herself to relax. But how ridiculous an order was that?