“Hey, we need to do this more often. But maybe we can aim for fast food next time. Easier on the wallet. Prices have really gone up over the last two years.”

Mace turned to leave, but Beth reached over and placed an iron grip on her sister’s arm, pulling Mace abruptly back into her seat. In a low voice that still managed to conjure images of razor wire, Beth said, “The next time you remove evidence from a crime scene, I will personally pistol-whip you before I arrest you for obstruction, are we clear on that?” There was not a trace of mirth in the woman’s eyes. This was Chief Elizabeth Perry talking now, not sweet sister Beth.

Mace just gaped at her, unable to form a response.

“My techs found minute traces of fluorescent dye on the key. I heard old Binder was running a special on his blue-light print kit this week. I think I might pay him a personal visit tomorrow and shut him down.”

“Beth-”

“You went over the line. After I told you not to. I told you to let me handle it. Maybe you don’t think I’m good enough to get this done.”

“It wasn’t that.”

Beth squeezed her sister’s arm. “You get arrested for interfering in a police investigation, you’re going back to prison for a lot longer than two years. And then there will be no way you’ll ever be a cop again. I don’t care if the president of the United States has your back. Is that what you want?”

“No, of course not. But-”

“Then quit screwing up!” Beth leaned away from her and let go of the arm. “Now get out of here.” As soon as Mace stood, Beth added, “Oh, and tell Kingman I said hello.”

Mace nearly ran out the door.

CHAPTER 34

DRINKS ON the rooftop lounge of the Hotel Washington,” said Mace as she and Roy sat at a table overlooking what was one of the nicest views of D.C.

“It’s actually called the W Washington now,” he said, as he freed three olives from a toothpick and dropped them one by one into his mouth and chewed slowly.

She pointed straight ahead. “Look, you can just make out the countersnipers on top of the White House.” She looked at the street. “And there goes a cruiser on a call. Probably a lousy D &D at a bar.”

“Could be a shooting.”

“Gunshots get a minimum of two patrol units responding. We’d be hearing a lot more sirens. Probably burglar alarm D.C.”

“Burglar alarm D.C.?”

“Burglar alarms go off, you respond, and you find out it’s a malfunction. That’s the principal action around here in ‘safe’ D.C. You want bullet banging or PCP zombie sprints, head to Sixth or Seventh district. They put on a great show there.”

“You’re a walking encyclopedia of local crime minutiae.”

“That’s all I am anymore,” Mace said resignedly.

“Problems?”

“No, Roy, my life is five-star all the way.”

“That didn’t come out right.”

“It never does with guys.” She stood, leaned over the half-wall, and pointed to her left. “Right over there was the first bust I ever made on my own around here. I’d just been certified to ride alone. Spotted a guy in a suit buying a bag of rock from a punk huckabuck. Turns out he was a congressman high up on some anti-drug committee. What a shocker, right?”

As she turned back around, Roy quickly shifted his gaze away from her derriere. There was a tattoo of a cross partly visible where her sweater had ridden up, with the lower half of the cross well down on one butt cheek.

The tattoo artist must’ve had fun doing that one, thought Roy.

She sipped on her beer and munched some nuts. “So do you want to comment on my butt since you were staring at it for so long?”

Bumps of red appeared on each of Roy’s cheeks. “Actually it left me pretty speechless.”

“There was a prison guard who was really partial to it too.”

He flicked a gaze at her. “Did he ever do anything to you?”

“Let’s just say he kept his pants on and leave it at that.”

“So you got a tattoo of a cross?”

“Don’t all good Catholic girls have a cross on their backsides?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never dated a Catholic girl. My loss, I guess.”

“Yes, it is.”

“You know, I thought about joining the police academy after college.”

“Drive fast and shoot guns?”

He grinned. “How’d you know?”

“Way it is with most guys. There were forty-one recruits in my class. Sixteen-week course. Half washed out before the end. Ex-athletes with beer bellies couldn’t even do a push-up. Academy was okay. Learned the phone book, spit and polish, a few training scenarios, but not much about actually being a cop.”

“Phone book?”

“Policies and procedures, general orders. Paperwork basically. Plus physical training. Near the end they put me on a Christmas detail in Georgetown by myself with no gun and no orders.”

“What’d you do?”

“Wandered around, wrote some parking tickets, and smoked some cigarettes.”

“Law school was boring too.”

“I started out on the north end of Georgia Avenue. They called it the Gold Coast, because it was relatively safe.”

“And?”

“And I hated it. Didn’t put on the shield and gun to be safe. I wanted to get into Crime Patrol. They hit the whole city, not some lousy five-block radius. They went after the good stuff.”

“Not drug dealers then?”

“Lock up druggies you’re just padding crime stats. CP went after the burglars, the armed robbers, the murderers, and the drug dealers turned exterminators. That was where the action was.” She paused. “Now I’m on probation and working for a college professor. And I can’t even dream about holding my Glock 37 again without heading back to lockup. Whoop-de-do.”

“I know we don’t know each other that well, but if you ever want to talk about things, Mace, I’m here.”

“I’m more of a forward thinker.” She stood. “Ladies’ room,” she said. “Be back in a minute.”

After doing her business Mace came out of the stall, went to the sink, and splashed water on her face. As she stared in the mirror Beth’s words came at her like hollow-points.

Quit screwing up. Trust me.

Mace didn’t want to screw up. She did trust her sister. She sure as hell didn’t want to go back to prison. Agent Kelly’s words also came back to her, though.

She groaned. This was a total mental conflict. Her head felt ready to explode from the pressure.

At least you’ll have a shot.

She splashed more water on her face and looked at herself in the mirror again.

“Scrub as hard as you want, the scum won’t come off.”

Mace whirled around to see Mona Danforth standing by the door.

CHAPTER 35

ARE YOU following me?” Mace snapped at D.C.’s chief prosecutor.

In response, Mona locked the door to the ladies’ room.

“If you don’t open that door I will use your head to crack it open.”

“Threatening an officer of the court?”

“Engaging in unlawful detainment?” Mace shot back.

“Just thought I’d do you a little favor.”

“Great. You can slit your wrists in the stall over there. I’ll call the EMTs once you’ve fully bled out.”

“I know all about Beth’s little plan.”

“Really? What little plan might that be?”

Mona snapped open her tiny purse, sauntered over to the mirror, and reapplied her makeup and lipstick while she spoke. Mace so wanted to stuff her in a toilet, blond hair first.

“Why, getting you reinstated, of course. You were set up, drugged up, forced to commit all those crimes, blah blah blah. Poor little Mace. The same crap the jury refused to believe.” Mona closed her purse, turned and leaned her butt against the sink counter. “So Beth is sending her best detectives to work on the case in the hopes that some miracle will occur that will prove your innocence.”

“I am innocent.”