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I nodded, feeling the prickles of cold sweat along my spine. If he knew that, then he knew damn near everything about me.
Meanwhile, I knew his name, and not a damn thing else.
Chapter 25
We headed back to the station in silence. I swiped my ID card at the door and pushed in with Ryan following behind me, but I’d barely stepped through the door before Captain Turnham leaned his head out of his office, looking down the hall at me.
“Chief Morse wants to see you, Gillian.”
I groaned. “Now?”
An expression of regret crossed his face. “Yes, now.”
I hesitated, then glanced at Ryan. “You can wait in my office if you want.”
Ryan’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll wait,” he said with a nod. He turned and headed to my office as I continued down the hall to the chief’s. I didn’t have a good feeling about this. The captain looked like he’d been handing me a death sentence.
The chief’s secretary was gone, so I knocked on the inner office door.
“Detective Gillian!” I heard the chief snap from inside. “Get in here.”
Yeah. That didn’t sound good. I took a settling breath as I entered. “Sir? Captain Turnham said you wanted to see me?”
Chief Eddie Morse stood behind his desk, scowl blackening his expression. Fuck him, he’s only my boss, I tried to tell myself in an effort to keep some semblance of composure, but it wasn’t working too well.
“Detective Gillian,” he said, voice tight and clipped, “since you have shown yourself to be clearly incapable of handling this investigation, I have informed Captain Turnham that you are to be reassigned and replaced with someone who knows what the fuck they’re doing.”
I stared at him in utter shock for a heartbeat, then I struggled to recover. “Sir, you can’t do that!” I blurted out.
He glared at me. “Ten more bodies have been found since you were assigned to the case. It was a gross mistake to put you on as the lead. I don’t see any progress being made, and all I do see is you spending a great deal of time with Agent Kristoff.”
I felt hot and cold all at the same time. I drew a shaking breath, fighting the urge that screamed at me to respond with an outraged denial of the barely veiled accusations of misconduct. It was one thing to get ribbed by coworkers. This was completely different. “Agent Kristoff and I are merely assigned to the same task force,” I said, struggling for calm though I could hear the tremor in my voice. “And a great deal of progress has been made,” I continued as the chief glowered at me. “We have a strong lead on who the killer is, and now we’re working on locating him.”
The chief leaned forward, placing his fists on the desk. “I think you’re full of shit, Detective Gillian. Crawford and Pellini will replace you on the case.”
“Sir, wait. We’re really close. I know it! Give me twenty-four hours and I’ll have something to show.” Twenty-four hours? I bit back the urge to groan. What on earth had possessed me to spout that tired cliché? On the other hand, twenty-four hours was all I really needed.
Chief Morse narrowed his eyes at me, flat gaze piercing me like an eagle sighting on its prey. Then he straightened. “Fine. You have twenty-four hours”—he sneered the words—“to show me some goddamn results, or not only will you be off the case but you’ll be back in Patrol.”
I willed calm with everything I had to keep my anger and dismay in check. “Yes, sir.” I didn’t dare say anything more. I had no idea how I was supposed to explain my conviction that the murders were all for the purpose of gathering arcane power, but in twenty-four hours the Symbol Man would be starting his ritual, so it was probably a moot point anyway. I would either stop the summoning or I wouldn’t. And if I didn’t, losing my job would be the least of my worries.
Chief Morse sat down, glowering. “You’re still in way over your head.” When I didn’t respond, he waved a hand at me. “Get out. Twenty-four hours or you’re through. Remember that.”
I nodded again, then pivoted and exited as quickly as I could. I slunk back to my own office and shut the door behind me, then sat heavily in my chair and dropped my head to the desk.
“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck,” I moaned.
Ryan cleared his throat. “I take it you were on the receiving end of an ass-chewing?”
“I think I dropped two sizes. Does my ass look smaller? It feels smaller.”
He snorted and I lifted my head, sighing. “I am apparently completely incompetent, and I am to be removed from the case. However, I successfully begged for twenty-four hours to prove that I deserve to remain a detective.”
“In twenty-four hours it’s not going to matter,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, no shit.” I opened my notebook to pull out the picture of Greg and Peter Cerise. “Here,” I said, handing the picture to him. “Here’s the killer. Go wild.”
“Great. Case solved. Go home.” He took the picture from me and examined it closely, then looked up at me and shrugged. “It could be anyone. I’ll scan it and send it to my ‘peeps,’ as you refer to them.”
