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“No. It was my command. I’ll tell them.”
“Feeney,” Whitney said when Eve strode from the room. “I want you to put the best man you can spare to work on plugging that leak. Someone in Communications on our end, or on Judge Beesley’s end, notified Jacoby of the warrant request. I want to know who it is.”
“I’ll get started on it.” He slid his eyes to Roarke, lifted his eyebrow in question. Roarke inclined his head.
Oh yes, he thought, I’d be delighted to assist EDD in plugging thi
s particular leak.
“Roarke.” If he’d seen the exchange, Whitney pretended not to. “Regardless of how this particular event has panned out, the NYPSD would like to offer its official appreciation for your help and cooperation in this investigation.”
“Then you’re officially welcome. May I ask how much you know about these two agents?”
“Not as much as I will know, very shortly. They have no idea, no possible idea who they’ve pissed off.”
“I recall you can get down and dirty when you’re riled, Jack.”
Whitney turned to give Roarke a thin and fierce smile. “That’s true, and I will. But I was talking about Dallas. She’ll skin them, and I intend to do whatever I can to provide her with the room to do so.”
When his communicator signaled, he stepped out of the room before slipping it out of his pocket.
“This was her collar.” Feeney paced around the room, a wiry-haired rooster defending his favorite chick. “The feds knew it. She got within blocks of Yost inside a week. One goddamn week and she’s on top of him. They had years and never got close. I bet that burns their spongy federal butts. I bet that’s why they pulled this stinking stunt.”
“Undoubtedly. Feeney, would certain classified data on Agents Stowe and Jacoby be of any use to you, should it fall into your hands unexpectedly and from an anonymous source?”
Feeney stopped pacing to eye Roarke speculatively. “Might be useful. Of course, doing an unofficial run on federal agents is a dicey business. Federal offense.”
“Really? As a law-abiding citizen I’m glad to know such matters are treated seriously.”
Now he walked to the window, looked down. “This is hard for her,” Roarke murmured. “Facing her team, telling them, basically, that all her work, all theirs gets them nothing. That cops have just been kicked aside and told to stand down so the federals can have the glory.”
“She’s never worn a badge for the glory.”
Roarke looked back over his shoulder. This is the man who’d taught her, he thought. The one who had helped mold her into the kind of cop she was. “You’re right, of course. The satisfaction then, of knowing you’ve done your job, seen it through, and made what justice you can for the dead. You know how difficult sexual homicides of this nature are for her.”
“Yeah.” Feeney looked down at his shoes. “Yeah, I guess I know that.”
“I woke her from a nightmare last night, brought on by this. A vicious and violent nightmare,” he said as Feeney lifted his head again. “Yet we both watched her stand here this morning, in command of herself and her team. Prepared to do what needed to be done. You understand what that takes, and I’ve come to. There’s one thing those two fucking federals will never understand. Her courage.”
He looked back out the window again, watching her walk back toward the house. “Her absolute and unwavering courage. The dead don’t matter a damn to them. They’re names and data, statistics on discs. For her, they’re faces. They’re people. No, they’ll never understand the guts, and the heart, in her that make her what she is.”
“You’re right.” Feeney blew out a breath. “You’re right and that’s something to think about. There’s something else that can be said, and will be, because I’ll say it to her myself, and to everyone else who’ll listen. The feds may bring him in, but she’s the one who brought him down.”
“Nobody’s bringing him in.” His face set like rock, Whitney stepped back into the room. “He’s gone.”
chapter thirteen
Feeney erupted. It was a vicious, feral, and inventive tirade that was peculiarly Irish in tone. It was that brilliant and blue rant Eve heard as she walked back up the stairs, down the hall, and into the room.
And she knew they were screwed.
“Not bad enough they’re bastards,” Feeney continued. “But they’re fucking stupid turnip-brained bastards with it. Tipped him. Tipped the bloody murdering son of a bitch off with their greedy, glory-hunting federal maneuvering so now he’s gone rabbit and none of us have a flaming thing to show for it.”
“We can’t be certain he got wind of the bust,” Whitney began, and Feeney, forgetting rank, seared his commander with one violent look.
“Bullocks. That’s bullocks, Jack, and you know it. They’ve a leak, and screwing with our op gave it time to spring. We’d have him now, we’d by Christ have him now if they hadn’t wagged their government-issue cocks around.”
“He’s gone.” Eve didn’t feel rage. Oddly, Feeney’s ripe temper kept her own in check. She simply felt hollow.
