Purity in Death (6 page)

Chapter 5

"He really caught you a good one." Eve crouched down to where Feeney sat under the ministrations of a medtech. She pursed her lips as she examined the long, shallow gash that scored his cheek. "Been a while since you took one in the face, huh?"

"I don't stick my nose in the knothole as often as other people. You and me, we're going to go a round, Dallas. I taught you better than that. Adding a hostage-"

"Do I look like a hostage? I don't recall getting locked to my desk chair with my own restraints lately."

Feeney sighed. "Dumb luck that worked. And dumb luck-"

"Is a nice bonus to solid police work. Somebody told me that once." She smiled at him, laid a hand over his. Under her touch, his hand turned so their fingers linked.

"Don't think I owe you one. Not for dumb luck. And you make sure your man knows that-ah-business about banging and whatnot was just smoke."

"I know he's seething with a black jealousy and planning on whomping on you, but I'll do what I can to calm him down."

He nodded, but his grin faded as he looked away. "Caught us with our pants down, Dallas. Pants down around our goddamn ankles. I never saw it coming."

"You couldn't have. Couldn't have," she repeated quickly before he could speak. "He was sick, Feeney. Some virus, some infection. I don't know what the hell. Morris is working on it. It's the same deal that happened to the guy Trueheart took out. It's in the computer. It's got to be in the computer."

Jesus, he was tired. Sick and tired. All he could do was shake his head. "That's science fiction crap, Dallas. You don't catch anything but eyestrain from a unit."

"You put Halloway on Cogburn's unit. By the end of the day he's exhibiting the same symptoms as Cogburn. Deduction 101, Feeney, science fiction or not. There's something in that thing, and it goes into quarantine until we've got some answers."

"He was a good kid. He screwed off some, but he was a good kid, and a decent cop. I got on his ass this morning, but he needed a boot. Saw him sniping with McNab this afternoon and . . ."

Feeney rubbed his temples. "Oh Christ."

"They're taking care of McNab. He's going to be okay. He's tougher than he looks. He'd have to be, wouldn't he?" She worked up a smile when she said it and ignored the sick dread in her belly.

"Four of my boys hurt, one of them dead. I've got to know why."

"Yeah, we've got to know why."

She glanced back at Halloway's cube, at the old, broken-down data center on his work counter.

Absolute Purity, she thought.

She went back into Feeney's office. Halloway's body was already bagged. The blood that had burst from him was splattered like some mad drawing on the industrial beige wall.

She gestured to the MT who'd fixed her the tranqs. "What do you make of it?"

He looked down, as she did, at the body bag. "Some sort of rupture. Damned if I know. I've never seen anything like it, not without severe head trauma first. You need the ME's take. Maybe a brain tumor, maybe an embolism, massive stroke. Awful damn young. Couldn't hit thirty."

"Twenty-eight." He had a fiancee who was rushing back from a business trip in East Washington. Parents, and a brother, coming in from Baltimore.

And if she knew Feeney, Detective Kevin Halloway would be buried with all the honors due a badge who'd gone down in the line of duty.

Because that's just what had happened, she thought as they carried the bag away. He'd been doing his job, and had died because of it.

She didn't know how, she didn't know why. But a young EDD man had died today, for the job.

"Lieutenant."

She turned toward the door, and Whitney. "Sir."

"I need your report as soon as possible."

"You'll have it."

"What happened here . . ." He stared at the blood on the wall. "You have answers to that?"

"Some. More questions than answers. We need Morris to examine Halloway immediately. I believe he'll find similar neurological damage as he found in Cogburn. There are answers on Cogburn's data unit, but it can't be examined until some reasonable safety measures are devised. I do know Detective Halloway wasn't responsible for what happened here."

"I have to brief Chief Tibble and the mayor before we speak to the media. I'll let you ride on that one, for now," he added. "For the moment, the official word will be that Detective Halloway was suffering from some as yet undetermined illness that caused his aberrant behavior and resulted in his death."

"As far as I know that's exactly the truth."

"I'm not worried about the truth when it comes to the official word. But I want it, the whole of it. This matter is your only priority. Any and all other investigations you have ongoing are to be passed on. Find the answers."

He started out, then pivoted back. "Detective McNab regained consciousness. He's moved up from critical to serious."

"Thank you, sir."

***

When she walked out of EDD, she sported Roarke, leaning idly against a wall and working with his PPC.

Anyone less like a cop, less like a victim, she'd never seen. As far as the other element that frequented cop shops, he could still slide in, silkily though, to that dangerous group.

He looked up, held out a hand for hers.

"You couldn't have done more than you did."

"No." She knew that, accepted that. "But he's still dead. I put the murder weapon at his head. I didn't know it, couldn't be expected to know it, but that's what I did. And I don't even know what the weapon is."

She rolled her shoulders. "Anyway, McNab's awake and moved up to serious. I figure I ought to swing by and take a look at him before I head home."

"Interview him?"

"I'll give him some stupid flowers first."

Roarke laughed and had nearly lifted her hand to his lips when she jerked it down. Hissed.

"Darling, you really shouldn't be so shy about public displays of affection."

"Public's one thing, cops're another."

"Don't I know it," he murmured and went with her to the garage level.

"I'll ride along with you. One of us should see that Peabody gets a bit of food or has a shoulder."

"I'll leave that end to you." Eve climbed behind the wheel. "You're better at the 'there-theres' than I am."

He touched the ends of her hair. Just needed to touch. "She held up very well."

"Yeah, she hung."

"It isn't easy, when someone you care about gets hurt or is in danger of being hurt."

She slanted him a look. "People want easy, they should hook up with an office drone not a cop."

"Truer words. But actually, I was thinking how difficult it was for you to stand and watch Feeney being threatened with death for nearly an hour."

"He was handling himself. He knows how to-" It rushed up through her, grabbed her by the throat with spikey claws. "Okay." At the exit of the garage she stopped, dropped her head on the wheel. "Okay. Scared me. Jesus, Jesus. He knew just where to hold the damn weapon. Just the right point. One jerk and Feeney's gone. Gone in a blink and there's nothing you can do."

"I know." Roarke switched to auto, programmed in the address for the hospital, and leaning over rubbed the back of Eve's neck as the vehicle streamed into traffic. "I know, baby."

"He knew it. We looked at each other, and we both knew. It could be over so fast. No time to say anything, do anything. Damn it."

She laid her head on the seatback, closed her eyes. "I wheedled him into taking that unit, bumping it up in line. I know, I know what happened, what could have happened, wasn't my fault. But there it is anyway. He's got a neck like a stupid rooster. It's got bruises on it where Halloway kept jamming the weapon under his stupid droopy jaw. How many times did his life pass in front of his eyes? Never see his wife again, his kids, grandkids."

"You take on the job, you take on the risks. Someone's always reminding me of that."

She opened her eyes now, looked at him. "Must be tempting to smack her back for being such a tight-ass know-it-all."

"Oh, infinitely." He played his fingers lightly over her cheek. "But someone's always beating me to it."

She smiled now. "I don't get hit in the face every couple weeks anymore, I don't feel right. I'm okay."

"Yes, you are."

She was steady again when she strode into the hospital admission's lobby. Steady enough to snap like a wolf at the dozen reporters already camped out and trying to sniff out a story.

"No comment."

"Your name was brought up as part of the negotiation team that brought about Captain Ryan Feeney's release. Why was Homicide part of this team?"

"No comment."

"A police source has stated that Detective Kevin Halloway fired on several other detectives, took Captain Feeney hostage within the Electronic Detectives Division of Cop Central and subsequently was killed during the incident."

She shoved her way through the encroaching reporters, and-oops-knocked over a camera. "Perhaps you didn't hear the
no
portion of the phrase 'no comment.'"

"Did you terminate Detective Halloway in your efforts to obtain Captain Feeney's release?"

She turned at that, her eyes flat as a shark's. "Commander Whitney, along with the chief of police and the Mayor of New York, will be briefing the media on today's events within the hour. If you want to feed, go chew on that bone. I'm just here to visit a sick friend."

"Why'd he do it?" someone shouted as she bullied her way to the elevators. "What kind of cops do you have working down there?"

"The kind who lay it down to serve and protect, even when it involves vultures like you. Goddamn it," she muttered the minute she was inside the elevator. She punched the wall, causing the elderly woman half-buried in a flower arrangement to try to melt into the corner of the car. "That's going to be tonight's revolving sound bite. I know better, better than to let them get under my skin."

"It would have to be made of reinforced steel not to get pricked now and then, Lieutenant. And as sound bites go, I thought it a strong and pithy one."

"Pithy, my butt. Damn it, I didn't get what floor he's on."

"I did. Twelve. Madam." Roarke smiled winningly at their elevator companion. "Your floor?"

"I can get off anywhere." She noticed the weapon peeking out from under Eve's jacket "Anywhere at all."

"It's all right." Smooth and handsome in his business suit, he kept his voice light, friendly. "She's the police. That's a beautiful flower arrangement."

"Yes. Well. My granddaughter just had a baby. A boy."

"Congratulations. You'd like Maternity, I imagine. Ah, six." Once he had their destinations, he turned back to her, careful to keep his body blocking Eve's gun. "I hope mother and son are doing well."

"Yes, thank you. It's my first great-grandchild. They've named him Luke Andrew."

She slid her gaze cautiously toward Eve when the elevator doors opened to six. Holding the flowers like a shield, she scurried out.

"What? Do I look like I stomp on old ladies for recreation?"

Roarke angled his head. "Actually-"

"Just keep that silk tongue of yours still."

"That's not what you said last night."

And because he made her laugh, she was able to head down to McNab's room with less weight on her shoulders. It dropped right back on when she stepped in, saw Peabody sitting by the bed, and McNab in it.

He looked too young, lying there with his eyes closed, face white, so white against white sheets. They'd taken his body adornments, she thought. He looked naked, vulnerable,
wrong
without his complement of earrings.

Skinny shoulders, Eve thought with a wave of worry. The guy had skinny shoulders and they didn't belong under some drab hospital gown. He needed something bright, bold, silly over that half-assed body of his.

His hair was loose so that all that sunny blond looked too shiny, too healthy against the rest of him.

She hated hospitals. They stripped you down to flesh and bone, left you weak and alone in some narrow bed where machines clocked your every breath.

"Can't we get him out of here?" she heard herself say. "Can't we-"

"I'll arrange it," Roarke whispered in her ear.

Of course he would. He'd arrange everything while she stood here, stuck in the damn doorway. Annoyed with herself, Eve stepped inside. "Peabody."

Peabody's head snapped up. Eve could see she'd been crying. Her hand slid across the sheet, covered McNab's.

"He's out. The doctor says he's doing okay. He took a pretty hard hit, but . . . I appreciate you letting me leave the scene to ride with him."

"I heard he'd come out of it."

"Yeah, he . . ." Peabody stopped, took one long breath, and seemed to draw herself in. "He went in and out a few times. He was vague on what happened, but he was coherent. They didn't find any brain damage. It gave his heart a pretty bad punch, and I think they're a little worried because the beat's still irregular. And his, um, his right side's numb yet. They think that's temporary, but right now he can't move his arm or leg on that side."

"Gonna walk funny." The voice was a bit slurry, but brought everyone's attention to McNab's face. His eyes were still closed, but his mouth curved up, just a little, in an attempt to smile that ripped at Eve's belly.

"You in there, McNab?"

"Yeah." He tried to swallow. "Yeah, Lieutenant, all present and accounted for. She-Body?"

"Right here."

"I could use some water or something. A brew'd be nice."

"You get water." She snatched a covered cup, brought the straw to his lips. After two shallow sips, he turned his head away. "I don't smell any flowers. Guy ends up in the hospital, people are supposed to bring him some damn flowers."

"I got a little distracted on my way to the gift shop." Eve moved over to the right side of the bed. "Had to kick a few reporters."

He opened his eyes. They were green, and they were clouded. From drugs or pain she couldn't be sure, but to Eve's mind one was as bad as the other.

"Did you get the captain out? I can't remember-"

"He'll be coming by to see you as soon as he gets out from under the paperwork. He's fine."