"There was a lapel pin at the scene – it's this medical symbol. I took it by the lab, sat on Dickhead until he verified it was gold. The real thing. Can you run it for me? See if you can find out who sells them?"

"Will do. You talked to McNab?"

"Not yet." Her stomach hitched. "Why?"

He sighed, and paper rattled as he reached into his bag for his favored almonds. "London, six months ago. Funky-junkie found in his flop. He'd cooked for a few days before they found him. Kidneys were missing."

"That's what we had with Spindler, but this scene was a mess. Blood everywhere. He was either in a hurry, or he doesn't care anymore. I'll tag McNab and get the details."

"He's on his way over there. Send the pin back with him, and I'll run it."

"Thanks." Her 'link beeped incoming the minute she ended transmission. "Dallas."

"I need you in my office, Lieutenant. Now."

Bowers was all Eve could think, but nodded briskly. "Yes, Commander. On my way."

She hailed Peabody on her way out. "McNab's on his way over with details on a potential victim in London. Work with him on it. Use my office."

"Yes, sir, but – " She broke off, and decided not to be undignified and complain to her lieutenant's back. "Hell." Prepared to spend an irritating hour or so, Peabody gathered her things and hurried toward Eve's office. She wanted to get there before McNab claimed the desk.

Whitney didn't keep Eve waiting but cleared her straight through. He was at his desk, his hands folded, his eyes neutral. "Lieutenant, you had another altercation with Officer Bowers."

"Yes, sir. On record at the scene this morning." Goddamn it, Eve thought, she hated this. It was like playing tattletale with the school principal. "She became difficult and insubordinate. She laid hands on me and was ordered off scene."

He nodded. "You couldn't have handled it differently?"

Biting back a retort, Eve reached into her bag and pulled out a disc. "Sir, this is a copy of the record from the crime scene. You look at it, then tell me if I could or should have handled it differently."

"Sit down, Dallas."

"Sir, if I'm to be reprimanded for doing my job, I prefer to be reprimanded while I'm on my feet."

"I don't believe I have reprimanded you, Lieutenant." He spoke mildly, but he rose himself. "Bowers had already filed another complaint before this morning's little incident. She claims that you contacted her at home Saturday evening and threatened her with physical harm."

"Commander, I have not contacted Bowers at home or anywhere else." It was difficult, but she kept her eyes flat and her voice cool. "If and when I have threatened her – after provocation – it's been face to face, and on record."

"She's introduced a copy of a 'link log, on which the caller identifies herself as you."

Eve's eyes chilled. "My voice print is on record. I request that it be compared with the print from the 'link log."

"Good. Dallas, sit down. Please."

He watched her struggle, then sit stiffly. "I have no doubt the prints won't match. Just as I have no doubt that Bowers will continue to make trouble for you. I want to assure you that the department will handle this, and her."

"Permission to speak frankly?"

"Of course."

"She shouldn't be on the street, she shouldn't be in uniform. She's dangerous, Commander. That's not a personal jab, it's a professional opinion."

"And one I tend to agree with, but it's not always as simple as it should be. Which brings me to another issue. The mayor contacted me over the weekend. It appears he was contacted by Senator Brian Waylan with a request that the investigations, over which you are primary, be reassigned."

"Who the hell is Waylan?" Eve was on her feet again. "What's some overfed politician have to do with my case?"

"Waylan is a staunch supporter of the American Medical Association. His son is a doctor and on staff at the Nordick Center in Chicago. It's his belief that your investigation, and the resultant media, has impinged the medical community. That it may start a panic. The AMA is concerned and willing to fund its own, private investigation into these matters."

"I'm sure they would, as it's clear it's one of their own who's killing people. This is my case, Commander. I intend to close it."

"It's likely that you'll get little cooperation from the medical community from this point on," Whitney continued. "It's also likely that there will be some political pressure brought to bear against the department to shift the nature of the investigation."

He indulged himself briefly with the faintest of scowls, then his face slipped back into neutral. "I want you to close this case, Dallas, and quickly. I don't want you distracted by a personal… irritant," he decided. "And so I'm asking you to let the department handle the Bowers situation."

"I know my priorities."

"Good. Until further notice, this case, and all related data, are blocked from the media. I want nothing new to leak. Any and all data relating is to be on a need-to-know basis, with full copies encoded to my attention."

"You believe we have a leak in the department?"

"I think East Washington is much too interested in our business. Put together a team, keep it Code Five from this point," he ordered, blocking any unsealed interdepartmental reports and adding a media block. "Put this one to bed."

CHAPTER TWELVE

"I can run a probability scan back in EDD in half the time it's going to take you to put it through this reject from the ark."

"You're not in EDD, McNab."

"You're telling me. And if you want a full run on the London victim done right, I should be doing it. I'm the E-detective."

"I'm the primary's aide. Stop breathing on me."

"You smell pretty good, She-Body."

"You're not going to have a nose to smell with in about five seconds."

Eve paused outside her office door and rapped her fists against the sides of her head. This was her team, squabbling like a couple of five-year-olds while Mom was away.

God help her.

They were glaring at each other when she stepped in. Both jerked back, shifted attention to her, and struggled to look innocent.

"Recess is over, kids. Move it into the conference room. I tagged Feeney on my way down. I want all data on all cases streamlined and cross-checked by end of shift. We need to bag this bastard before he adds to his collection."

After she'd turned on her heel and strode out, McNab broke into a grin. "Man, I love working with her. You think we'll headquarter in her home office on this one? Roarke's got the best toys on the block."

Peabody only sniffed and began to gather discs and files. "We work where the lieutenant says we work." She rose, bumped into him, and felt her nerves sizzle. She stared dolefully into his cheerful green eyes. "You're in my way, McNab."

"I keep trying. So how's Charlie?"

She counted to ten, then replied, "Charles is fine, and it's none of your business. Now move your skinny ass." She gained some pleasure in elbowing him aside as she stomped out.

McNab merely sighed, rubbed his sore gut. "You sure do it for me, She-Body," he muttered. "Christ knows why."

Eve paced the conference room. She needed to put Bowers and that situation out of her mind. She was nearly there, she told herself. Just a little more cursing, a little more pacing, and she would have put Bowers in some deep, dark hole. With a few rats for company, she decided, and a single crust of moldy bread.

Yeah, that was a good image. She took two more cleansing breaths and rounded on Peabody as her aide entered. "Death scene stills, on the board. Work up a location map, highlighting each crime scene. Victims' names referenced with appropriate city."