Halloway seemed to shrink inside his lime green jumpsuit. "Yes, sir."

"When you're done with that you hook up with Silby on the 'links from the Stewart break-in. And when you're done with that, I'll let you know. Scram."

Halloway scrammed, flicking one mortified glance at Eve as he scrambled out and back toward his cube.

"Does the heart good," Feeney said with a sigh, "to peel the skin off a skinny butt in the morning. What's up with you?"

"What was his score on Crusader?"

"Got up to fifty-six mil on Commando level." Feeney sniffed. "Damn near nipped my record and that's been standing for three years, four months, and twenty-two days. Little putz."

She strolled in, sat on the corner of his desk, and copped a handful of the candied almonds he kept in a bowl. "You hear about Trueheart?"

"No. Been buried." His baggy face creased with concern. "What?"

She told him, leaving out nothing as they both munched on nuts. Feeney dragged a hand through his explosion of ginger hair. "Gonna be tough on him."

"Builds fucking character," she muttered. "He's giving it to me straight, Feeney. Kid would sooner swallow a live rat than lie to me. But it doesn't hold up. I brought Cogburn's data and communication center in. I was hoping you could bump it up to priority. Look, I know you're swamped," she added before he could speak. "But I want all the ammunition I can get for this. And there's something on there. I know there is. This Purity business smells bad."

"Can't give you McNab. Already got him juggling. Halloway," he said and brightened. "I just don't think that boy has enough to do. I'll put him on it. A little overtime should be good for him."

"And help protect your high score."

"Goes without saying." But the humor on his face faded quickly. "IAB's going to take some hard shoves at that kid."

"I know it. I'm going to see if I can deflect a few of them." She pushed off the desk. "I'm going to go harass Morris. If my hunch holds up, Trueheart's off the sharpest hook."

CHAPTER THREE

When Eve swung back into Homicide to snap up Peabody, several of the detectives in the bullpen sent meaningful looks her way.

"Rat in the hole," Baxter commented as he walked past her, and jerked his head toward her office.

"Thanks." She hooked her thumbs in the front pockets of her trousers and headed into her office.

Lieutenant Don Webster sat in her single spare chair, his polished shoes kicked up on her cluttered desk. He was drinking her coffee.

"Hey, Dallas. Been a little while."

"But somehow never long enough." She knocked his feet off her desk. "Is that my coffee in that mug?"

He took a long sip, let out a happy sigh. "It must be nice, being able to call up the real thing whenever you're in the mood. How is Roarke these days?"

"Is this a social call? Because I don't have time to chat. I'm on duty."

"Not social, but it could be friendly." He moved his shoulders when her expression stayed set and stony. "Or not. Gotta say though, you're looking just swell."

She reached behind her, shut the door. "You'd have gotten the report of the incident occurring yesterday between nineteen hundred and nineteen-thirty involving a uniformed officer assigned to Central who, while off-duty, responded to-"

" Dallas." Webster held up a hand. "I got the report. I know the incident. I know Officer Troy Trueheart-hell of a name, huh-is in Testing at this time. Internal Affairs will interview the subject and investigate the termination after the results of said Testing are evaluated."

"He's twenty-two years old. He's still green but he's solid. I'm asking you to go easy on him."

Irritation settled over his face. Toughened it. "You think I get up in the morning thinking about how many cops I can destroy that day?"

"I don't know what you or the rest of your pack think about." She started to order coffee for herself, then spun around. "I thought you were coming back. I thought you'd decided to be a cop again."

"I am a goddamn cop."

"After all that dirt came out from inside IAB-"

"That's why I stayed in." He said it quietly, and cut off her tirade. "I thought about it." He pushed a hand through his wavy brown hair. "I thought about it long and hard. I believe in the Bureau, Dallas."

"How? Why?"

"Checks and balances. We need checks and balances. When there's power there's corruption. They go hand-in-hand. A wrong cop's got no right to a badge. But he deserves having another cop see it's taken from him."

"I've got no use for dirty cops." Annoyed with the world in general, she took the coffee mug from him and drank. "Damn it, Webster, you were good on the street."

It gave him a quick zip to hear her say it. To know she meant it. "I'm good in the Bureau. I think I make a difference."

"By hammering at a rookie like Trueheart because he did what he had to do to protect a civilian and himself?"

"You know, the first thing I did when I went back into IAB was move out all the racks, thumbscrews, and other torture devices. I read the report, Dallas. It's clear there was immediate jeopardy. But there are holes, and there are questions. You know it."

"I'm looking into it. Let me clear it up."

"You know. I'd love to do you a favor, just so you'd owe me one. But he has to be interviewed, he has to make a statement. He can have his rep there. He can have you there. Jesus, Dallas, we're not looking to fuck this kid over. But when a uniform terminates using his weapon it has to be reviewed."

"He's clean, Webster. He's goddamn spanking clean."

"Then he's got nothing to worry about. I'll take it personally if that means anything to you."

"I guess it does."

"You tell Roarke you were tagging me for this? Or is he going to get riled up so I have to kick his ass again?"

"Oh, is that what you were doing when you had to be carried out of the room unconscious?"

"I like to remember it that I was just getting my second wind."

Webster rubbed a hand over his jaw. He could still remember what Roarke's fist had felt like plowing into it. Like a well-aimed brick.

"Whatever works for you. And I don't report to Roarke."

"You go on thinking that." He took the coffee back from her, finished it off. "You're so married I see little lovebirds circling over your head."

It mortified, right down to her toes. "Roarke's not the only one who can knock you unconscious."

"I really like the look of you." He grinned when her eyes narrowed. "Just looking," he assured her. "No touching. Learned my lesson there. You can trust me to keep it clean, personally and professionally. That good enough for you?"

"If it wasn't, I wouldn't have called you."

"Check. I'll be in touch." He opened the door, glanced back. He really did like the look of her-lean and tough and sexy. "Thanks for the coffee."

Alone, she shook her head. She could hear the noise level drop into silence from the bullpen as Webster walked through it. He'd chosen a very hard road, she thought. A badge who policed other badges was regarded with suspicion, derision, and fear.

A slippery line to walk. She supposed, all in all, she liked him well enough to hope he kept his balance.

She checked her wrist unit, judged how much longer Trueheart would be in Testing. More than enough time, she thought, for her to browbeat Morris for results on Cogburn.

They were stacked and racked and packed in the morgue. Rarely in eleven years on the job had Eve seen so many corpses in one place at one time.

A trio of the bagged and tagged were laid out on gurneys and shoved against the wall outside of one of the autopsy suites.