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“Move the view to the outer door, same time frame,” Pro said.
The monitor switched view, and the man stepped to the door. The officer on the other side glanced over and opened it. The disguised Max stepped out of camera view.
“So the bastard disguised himself as an NYPD officer?” Lieutenant Dunton snapped. “So was that how he got out? He just traipsed out of here?”
Pro’s jaw tightened. “I think so, LT. My supposition is that he wore a shirt with NYPD patches on the arms under his turtleneck. Once he pinched Officer Jacobs’ badge backer, it was all he needed to look like a cop. You noticed he wore a wig. I can only assume he hid it in the lining of the jacket or in the small of his back. No metal detector would have been set off by it.”
The lieutenant rose first. “Okay, first thing. The information that he escaped and how he did it does not leave this room!”
There was a murmur of agreement by the other officers.
“Christ!” Dunton went on. “If this gets out to the press, we are going to be a laughing stock and Internal Affairs will be all over our ass!”
“Yes, sir,” Sergeant Palos said from his seat. “Should we issue an APB?”
“That goes without saying,” Dunton snarled. “The all-points bulletin should include that he might be disguised as a police officer.”
“Sir, that won’t be necessary,” Pro said. “I think he will dump the disguise as soon as possible.”
“Include that anyway,” Dunton demanded. “Now, Pro, I heard a rumor that this guy is your father. Is that correct, detective?”
“My biological father, sir, yes,” Pro responded.
“Well, if you get word to him, by whatever means, you tell him to surrender himself…and quickly, or he is going to be in a cell
for a very long time. We have resisting arrest, impersonating a police officer, assaulting a police officer—”
“He didn’t assault me, LT,” Jacobs said defensively.
“Shut up, Jacobs,” Dunton ordered. “He stole your badge! You better pray I don’t have you walking a beat for the next ten years.”
“Yes, sir,” Jacobs muttered sullenly.
The lieutenant turned back to Pro and Chu. “And I think personal feelings are getting in the way of you two doing your job.”
“Sir, it’s my fault,” Pro said. “I wasn’t as diligent as I should have been—”
“Put a sock in it, detective,” Dunton roared. “I’ll give you two forty-eight hours to solve these murders and capture that second-rate magician—”
“LT, Max Marvell is not a second-rate magician, sir,” Pro objected. “That’s why he fooled an entire precinct of officers.”
Dunton’s face became an unhealthy shade of red. “Just find him!” he hissed through clenched teeth, then stormed out of the room.
The meeting broke up, and Pro and Chu headed back to the bullpen.
“Tom, I am so sorry…”
“Why? You didn’t know he was going to do this.” He stopped and looked at her. “I mean, you didn’t, did you?”
“No,” Pro vowed, “and I can’t figure out where he would have gotten NYPD arm patches. You can’t just go into a store and ask for them.”
“I have no idea. But we’d better catch Max—and fast. He’s now a fugitive, and if someone is a little too trigger-happy, it could end badly.”
Pro stopped walking, her face frozen in realization.
“What?” Chu asked, surprised by the look on her face.
“Mom!”
