"No." She sighed. "No. Some days I hate the idea of it, I hate the strings she pulls even from that reserved table in hell. She knew I would, and it burns my ass, Mama, to prove her right. But the fact is, Carly loves this house. She loves the courtyard and her room, she loves the neighborhood and the park. So, no, I don't count the cost. Or only when I'm feeling pissy. So I don't know, Mama, if you could walk out the door, if I would, too."

She drained her coffee. "I have to get to work."

"I know you do."

Essie stayed where she was, listening to Phoebe walk down the hall, across the foyer. She heard the door open, close. And she moved to the window, to look out at the courtyard with its lovely flowers and shrubs, its elegant fountain and pretty pockets of shade.

And she saw a bottomless black pit.

Chapter 25

She got in early enough to push through more files, to add to her list. The feds could've made her jump through hoops, but Phoebe knew enough people in the local bureau to slip through several tangles of red tape.

More than ten years, she thought, between her time with the Bureau and with the SCPD. Almost a third of her life. More than a third of her life if she counted the time in college, in the academy. But a decade at the work, on the job.

She'd lost fourteen people.

Her mother was right, Phoebe admitted. She hated to lose, and she'd lost fourteen in a bit under eleven years.

It didn't matter that three of those had died of injuries sustained before she'd been called on scene. And if it didn't matter to her, she was damn sure it didn't matter to Roy's killer.

So, all those losses would have to be reexamined.

She pushed back from her desk, prepared to go into the field, and Sykes tapped on her doorjamb. "Lieutenant?"

"Come on in. Ah, Arnie Meeks. His alibi hold?"

"Yeah. Story matches." Sykes's face twisted into a sour expression, as if he'd swallowed something that didn't sit quite right. "More, the woman he's cheating with has one of those nosy neighbors. She saw Arnie go in the alibi's house just before ten Sunday night. Knows his car, too, as she's seen him there before. He'd parked up the block, but she spotted it when she took her dog Lulu out for a walk around midnight." "Right."

"Had to take the pooch out again right before sunrise. You ever wonder why people have a dog if they're going to have to drag their butt out of bed before dawn so it can water the petunias?"

"Yes, actually. I've been giving that specific arrangement a good deal of thought lately."

Amusement glimmered. "Kid wants a puppy?"

"You're an ace detective, Bull. Yes, she does."

"Well. This particular dog's doing what she needs to do, and that's when Lulu's mommy reports she saw Arnie… " Sykes flipped open his book, thumbed pages. " 'Strutting out of Mayleen Hathaway's front door like the top rooster on the dunghill.'"

"Well, that clears him on this."

"Too damn bad. But I could tell you he's going to deserve this Mayleen, who has the breasts of a goddess, the brains of a peanut and the wrath of a wounded pitbull." His smile was hard and brief. "I do believe she's going to make his life a living hell for some time. Add his wife making it the same at home, and he's not in a cozy spot right at the moment."

"I'm feeling small enough, between you and me, to tell you that's nice to hear."

"I'm going to check with CS, see if they've got anything more on the victim's car. Bastard shed a hair, they're going to find it, Lieutenant." "Maybe you can do that on the way. I've got some avenues I'd like to explore. I could use you. Legwork first, then we'll deal with the rest of the interviews and follow-ups by phone from here. I'll explain on the way to the first."

She picked up her bag, then set it back down when she spotted Sergeant Meeks striding into the squad room. "Give me a few minutes here first, will you, Detective?"

He glanced around, and his face hardened. "I'm happy to stand right here, wait till you're ready to go."

"No need. Just give me a minute."

The look on his face said he'd do that, and he'd be watching the office while he did. Sykes and Meeks faced each other in the doorway like, Phoebe thought, a couple of tough mongrel dogs. Not so different in build, she noted, or in sensibility, she supposed, when it came to protecting their territories.

But so much different in approach.

Sykes spoke without taking his eyes off Meeks. "I'll be right out at my desk, Lieutenant, when you're ready."

"Thank you, Detective. Sergeant?"

"Lieutenant."

She kept the neutral expression on her face as Sergeant Meeks firmly shut her office door.

"Something I can do for you this morning?"

"You got hurt," he began, "and my son lost his badge over it. His wife and his own son are upset and embarrassed."

"I regret your daughter-in-law and grandson are troubled by the fact that your son put me in the hospital, Sergeant Meeks." Her voice was Southern cream over cold steel. "My own family was, and is, considerably troubled by that event, too. Particularly my seven-year-old daughter."

"The circumstances of your injuries aside, when you take on the badge, you take on the risks. A woman with a young child should consider that before going into law enforcement."

"I see. And I see where your son picked up his opinion of women on the job. Was there something else, Sergeant, because regardless of your opinion of my choice of career, I have work to do."

Nothing, not a flicker of the rage she knew had to be burning inside him, crossed his face. And there, Phoebe thought, was the control his son sadly lacked.

"You're going to want to watch how you play this."

"Is that another opinion, or is that a threat?"

"I don't make threats," Meeks said evenly. "You got some bruises, and they look healed up to me. But my son doesn't have his badge or his reputation."

"He's not in jail either."

"Is that what you want? Is that why you sent a man to his workplace to question him? You sent men to take him out of his house and haul him in for questioning in front of his family, his neighbors. You questioned his wife."

"What I want is not relevant. His prior actions earned him the questioning, and he wouldn't have been hauled out of his home in front of his family and his neighbors if he hadn't taken a swing at Detective Sykes. Or didn't you receive that portion of the report?" She angled her head. "Should I have a copy sent to you?"

"If he was provoked-"

"You make excuses for him all you like, as his father. But when you come into this office in uniform, you also represent this department. That's something you better remember. I notice you're not complaining that I also sent a man to question your son's married lover in order to verify his alibi for the time in question. Or wasn't she on your list?" She saw it hit, that one instant of surprise and disappointment.

Then his eyes went flat. "The deal was struck, Lieutenant MacNamara. If you keep harassing my son, I'll take my complaints to the DA, to the chief of police and to the mayor."

"You're free to take your complaints to whomever you like,

Sergeant." The edge of her anger was a hot blade carving up her spine. "Before you do, I'm going to point out that rather than answer questions in his own home, or requesting that said questioning be done elsewhere, your son verbally harassed and threatened two of my officers, and assaulted one of them. I could see that his probation is rescinded and he do the time at Georgia State."

She let that hang, let it steep. Then, placing the palms of her hands on her desk, leaned forward.

"And, oh yes, Sergeant Meeks, we'll be honest. I can't think of many things I'd like more. But for now? I'm going to suggest that instead of you coming in here and throwing your weight around my office, or try ing to make me shiver with tossing around your fishing and golf buddies, you consider getting your son some professional help. Because you know what? That anger management? It doesn't seem to be doing him much good."