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“The police,” Sylvia began.
“Lieutenant Dallas, NYPSD, and my aide, Officer Peabody. I have some questions, Mr. Dukes. If I could have a few minutes of your time.”
“What’s this about?”
He’d already shifted his wife aside, and stood blocking the doorway. It wasn’t only flowers guarding the fort now, Eve decided.
“It’s regarding the deaths of Chadwick Fitzhugh and Louis K. Cogburn.”
“That has nothing to do with us.”
“Sir, at one time you filed charges, on behalf of your son Devin, against both of these men.”
“My son Devin is dead.”
He said it so flatly, so coldly, he might have been speaking of the loss of his favorite tie.
“I’m sorry.” Eve heard his wife choke off a sob behind him. Dukes didn’t bat an eyelash. “Mr. Dukes, is this something you want to discuss in the doorway?”
“This is something I don’t want to discuss at all. Devin’s files are sealed, Lieutenant. How did you get our name?”
“Your names came up during the course of my investigation.” Hard-ass to hard-ass then, Eve decided, staring at him coldly. “Files can be sealed, Mr. Dukes, but people talk.”
“Dad?” A boy walked halfway down the stairs. He was tall like his father, his hair as rigidly shorn. He wore blue trousers, a blue shirt, both knife-edge sharp. Like a uniform, Eve decided.
“Joseph, go back upstairs.”
“Is something wrong?”
“This doesn’t concern you.” Dukes glanced back briefly. “Go upstairs immediately.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I won’t have you disrupting my home,” he said to Eve.
“Would you prefer taking it down to Central?”
“You have no authority to—”
“Yes, sir. I do. And the fact that you’re reluctant to answer a few routine questions leads me toward exercising that authority. This can be simple or complicated. That’s your choice.”
“You have five minutes.” He stepped back. “Sylvia, go upstairs with Joseph.”
“I require Mrs. Dukes as well.”
Eve could see him struggle with fury. Hot color burned across his cheekbones, and his jaw worked. This wasn’t a man accustomed to having any order questioned, much less countermanded.
She could go head-to-head with him, or she could throttle back. She made an instant and instinctive decision to change tactics.
“Mr. Dukes, I’m sorry to bring this into your home, to disturb you and your family. I have to do my job.”
“And your job is to question decent citizens over the death of scum?”
“I’m just a foot soldier, following orders.”
She saw immediately it had been the right button. He nodded and without a word turned and walked into the living area. Sylvia remained standing, her fists clenched, her knuckles white as her apron.
“Should I . . . would you like some coffee, or—”
