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“One forgets,” he murmured. He came back to sit, to pick up his coffee again. “It would’ve caused some friction for her on the job. As it did for you.” When she said nothing, Morris lowered the mug. “Was she investigated?”
“I’m going to find that out. But . . .” Truth, she reminded herself. That was the deal here. “She kept it to herself. From Ricker’s statement, from what I’ve gotten out of Atlanta, and out of her squad here, nobody knew she’d had a personal relationship with him.”
“I see.”
Worse, Eve realized, worse for him that the relationship with Alex had been important enough for her to have kept it a secret.
“It could’ve been for a lot of reasons. The simplest is she wanted to keep her personal life off the job.”
“No, you’re trying to comfort me again, to spare me. I know how the grapevine works. Everyone in my house, in hers, I’d wager nearly every cop, clerk, drone, and tech in Central knows Ammy and I were involved. Keeping it quiet had to be deliberate, and because of who he was. And to keep it quiet for that long? That’s serious.”
He paused a moment, and his brows drew together. “You’re going to find out. You mean you’re going to talk to IAB?”
“It’s necess
ary.”
“If they didn’t know, they will now. After you talk to them.”
“I can’t go around it. I’ll be as careful as I can, but—”
“Give me a minute.” He stared down into his coffee. “Max Ricker carried cops in his pockets like other men carry loose credits. You’re wondering now if his son had Ammy in his.”
“I have to ask. I have to look at it. If I factor it out, push it off to spare her rep, maybe her killer slips through the gap. That’s not going to happen. Not even for you.”
“I knew her. I know how she thought, how she felt, how she slept and ate and lived. I’d have known if she was dirty. I know how she defined her work and how she felt about doing it.”
“You didn’t know about Alex Ricker.”
He stared. She watched the shutter come down, the one that shut her out as a friend, as a cop, as a colleague. “No, I didn’t.” He got back up onto his feet, spoke stiffly. “Thank you for keeping me informed.”
She got to hers before he could get to the door of her office. “Morris, I can’t and won’t apologize for doing my job, but I can be sorry that the way I need to do it causes you pain. Just like I’m sorry to have to say this. Stay away from Alex Ricker. If I don’t have your word you’ll keep clear, make no contact with him, I’ll put a tail on you. I won’t let you impede the investigation.”
“You have my word.” He went out and closed the door behind him.
Alone, Eve sat at her desk, dropped her head into her hands. Friendships, she thought, were so damn complicated, so bound with sharp edges that could jab a hole through you at any given point.
Why did people always get tangled up with other people? Why put ourselves through this shit?
She had to consider the possibility Coltraine had been dirty. Wasn’t that hard enough? Did she have to carry the guilt for hurting Morris along with it?
Crap. Yeah, she did. No way out of it.
She wanted to ignore the knock on her door, really wanted just to wallow for a while in a little stew of self-pity. But duty won.
“What? What the fuck do you want?”
The door eased open a few inches, and Peabody peered in. “Ah. Are you okay?”
There it was, Eve supposed. There was the answer to why people got tangled with people. Because when you were down, when you were wallowing, someone you mattered to would ask if you were okay.
“No. Really not. Come in. Shut the door.” When she had, Eve blew out a breath and shook it off. “EDD?”
“There’s nothing off on her home or work units. Nothing off on her house or office ’links. Nothing referencing an appointment or meet for the night she died. Her date books check out. The only one we haven’t been able to pin down, so far, is a notation for AR, the day before her murder. It’s listed under personal. No address, no number, with the additional notation of a-slash-s, which corresponds with ‘after shift’ in her other notes.”
“I’ve got that one. Sit down. AR is Alex Ricker.”
“Alex . . . as in Max Ricker?”
