Doyle’s infectious smile didn’t quite reach his eyes just then.
Larkin wanted to ask why—why do you insist on working the casesno onecan, the cases that break hearts and blacken souls and destroy careers, why, Ira, won’t you believe me when I say it wasn’t your fault, but you use those very words to comfort the children who come through this office like a revolving door’s been installed, why do you freely give so much of yourself that you leave nothing foryou?
But he couldn’t ask any of that.
Because he already knew the answer.
And acknowledging Doyle’s shame, calling it out, dragging it into the light before he was ready, would only put a distance between them that Larkin wasn’t sure they’d be able to recover from.
So he said, “Bailey told me you’re working on vein pattern recognition techniques.”
Doyle instinctively looked at the laptop.
“He explained the process—tried to, anyway—but I understand how you got the idea for restoring the engraving in the brooch, now.”
Doyle got to his feet.“Lucky shot, is all.”He stretched his arms overhead and cracked something in his back.“What’s the box?Did you find Barbara’s homicide case?”
Larkin picked up the old file.“Found it,” he confirmed.
“Really?”
“I’ve had a very productive afternoon.I also checked out Joe’s apartment with Hackett.”
“How’d that go?”
Larkin removed his cell, opened the images stored on the Cloud, and then offered it to Doyle.“I’ll spare you the nitty-gritty psychoanalysis: Joe despised his job as an entertainment reporter and was actively working on a story that would land him a position in big boy journalism—”
“What in theCSI: Miamiis this?”Doyle interrupted.He swiped with his thumb, scrolling through photos taken of the murder wall found in the closet with the Murphy bed.“Am I supposed to think Joe is a serial killer?”
“No.But what if he was getting help from an aphid.”
Doyle’s thumb hovered over the screen.He glanced up, his tangled brown hair partially obscuring his eyes.“Joe was in touch with Worth?”
“I think so.”
Doyle set the phone on the tabletop.“Give it to me straight, Butch.”
“The best I can do is gay and marginally effeminate.”Larkin smiled when Doyle abruptly laughed.He watched the last of the tension ease from Doyle, and he took on that more relaxed, big cat posture.“This morning, we were in agreement that Worth doesn’t limit who he works with.”
“Right.”
“What if it were more than just the most vile of society.”
“Please, Mr.Worth, help me land a story that’ll put me on the staff of theTimes, theJournal, theTribune?”
“Why not,” Larkin asked.“So long as Worth gets his dues.”
Doyle turned, leaned his backside against the table, and absently stroked the stubble along his jaw as he considered Larkin’s suggestion.
Larkin continued.“Joe’s been relentlessly working the queer officer angle for months.His obsession with this specific theme goes beyond having a kink for law enforcement.But for as persistent as he was, Joe was also terribly unfocused—almost like he didn’t knowwhothe subject was.”
Doyle twisted, picked up Larkin’s phone again, and studied the photos of the murder wall.There had been countless newspaper clippings and printed online articles about major crimes happening throughout the city over the last half a decade, which were connected by red strings to different photographed individuals, their likenesses sourced from either the internet or candid snapshots taken without their knowing.In Larkin’s case, there were photos of him from years ago, still in uniform and featured in an article about diversity hiring, as well as more up-to-date images clipped from coverage of his recent cases.It’d become clear where Joe’s energy had been redirected.
“These other people on the wall,” Doyle started.“Might they be the other officers Joe tried interviewing?”
“Based on the content of the pinned articles surrounding them, yes.Hackett is still with CSU at the apartment, and he’ll make sure they cross-check identities.”Larkin moved around to Doyle’s side, leaned close, and swiped through a few of the pictures before stopping on a cluster of Post-its scribbled in what was probably Joe’s hand.“He was tracking my case history.”
Larkin swiped to the next picture—that of a sheet of unlined white paper, creased vertically and horizontally, unremarkable penmanship reading:There’s a legacy in queers-in-blue.He explained, “During the subway incident, Noel Hernandez received an anonymous tip with just enough information for him to make a choice regarding the man who’d murdered his childhood best friend.I think this is the same thing—a suggested starting point for a down-and-out reporter looking to make a lasting name for himself.”Larkin met Doyle’s gaze and added, “It just took Joe a while to figure outwhichqueer in blue he was supposed to write about.”
