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“We’ll send deputies for him,” Kimbrough said.
“My garden,” she said quietly.
“Where is this safe house?” I asked.
“We have several,” Kimbrough said.
“Do the taxpayers of Maricopa County know this?”
He just smiled.
“One is up on the highway north of Wickenburg,” Peralta said. “We’ve stashed a few witnesses there before. But it’s too far away from the cavalry if there’s trouble. I have someplace else in mind.”
“Well, this FBI badge thing can certainly wait,” I said. “Nothing’s happening anyway. We don’t even know if it’s a homicide.”
“No,” Peralta said, facing me. “You’re going to stay on that case. It’s important.”
“Working from a safe house? OK, you’re the boss.”
“No,” Peralta said again. “You need to get out in the field and find out what the hell happened to that badge and how it ended up with some homeless guy.”
The inside of the SUV was instantly claustrophobic. Peralta said, “I can’t have you coming and going from the safe house. The Russkies might follow you. If they can find these guys out for a drink in Scottsdale, they can sure as hell track that gigantic Oldsmobile you drive. Kimbrough can give you a voucher for a motel or whatever.”
“I’m not leaving Lindsey,” I said.
Peralta ignored me and started giving Kimbrough instructions on securing the departmental computer systems. I looked over at my lover, encased in her flak vest. An intense chill ran around my neck.
“Hey,” I said, louder. “I’m not leaving Lindsey alone.”
Everyone went silent. She held my hand. Her hand was warm and seemed small.
“David,” Kimbrough said, “this is just for a couple of weeks.”
“This is bullshit. You guys worked on this case for months and you never found Yuri. What are two weeks going to change? There is no way I am going two weeks or two hours without knowing she’s safe.”
“Results, Mapstone,” Peralta said. “I want results on your case.”
“My case has been open for more than half a century!” I argued. “It can wait a few more weeks.”
“It’s the murder of a federal agent,” Peralta said, “in my jurisdiction.”
Lindsey said, “I want my husband with me. If they came after me, they might come after him.”
Peralta said quietly, “It’s an order, Mapstone.”
“Then I want to take vacation,” I said. “Now.”
“You don’t get vacation,” Peralta said. “You’re a consultant.”
“I just got back from taking vacation time!”
“Then why do you want another vacation?”
I was getting angrier, rowing into a dangerous estuary with Peralta. It was too late to turn back, and I damned well didn’t want to. I said, “I quit.”
Kimbrough snorted, then fell silent. I saw his eyes in the rearview mirror, looking intently at me, telegraphing caution.
Finally, Peralta said, “You can’t quit.”
