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“Is that how you’d handle it?”
“I’m saying you could walk right out of here and put her in cuffs.”
She turned, took a couple paces away to try to settle her temper. Turned and stepped back when she decided she didn’t want it settled.
“
Make a deal with a dirty cop or two to snap off the head? Fuck that. Fuck that, Feeney. No deals. No deals if I have to sit on the PA until he cries for his mommy. I don’t want to deal to take her down. I’m going to take her down my way. I’m going to play her like a goddamn piano.”
He started to grin at the first fuck that, and then let out a snort. “You can’t play the piano.”
“But I can break one to splinters with a sledgehammer.”
“It’s a good choice. I was just checking.”
She puffed out a breath, felt the temper die. “You’d go sledgehammer?”
“Maybe a chain saw. I’ve got to think of my back.”
She glanced toward Roarke and McNab. “You get me the feed. I’ll get the hammer and saw.”
She paced while they worked. She wondered why things always took longer than you wanted them to take, unless you wanted them to take a lot longer—then they didn’t take nearly long enough.
Time sucked.
Peabody walked in.
“Put the data up,” Eve ordered. “I need to see it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good work, Peabody. You did good work today.”
“I needed to.” Peabody glanced over as she installed the disc. “I want to be able to go back to her mom and tell her Detective Gail Devin helped bring this down. Dallas, can you get her a commendation? From the top? Could you put her in for one from the commander?”
“I can. I will. But I believe the commander will issue one without my request.”
Eve stood, studying the data. “God, she was thorough. Look at this. Times, dates, length of time, participants of closed-door meets in Renee’s office. Coordinating them with busts or ops gone sour—or where the take from the bust came in well below expectations and information. Invoice changes—she logged them down whenever she caught one. Logged once-a-week meets between Renee and Dennis Dyson in Accounting. Here’s another who shows up regularly, every couple weeks, and routinely after a sizable bust. From Records.
“Notations on inconsistencies in files, in reports. Here’s a cop who dug into her research.”
“She was building a pretty good case,” Peabody added. “She’s got records of street contacts she’d started to develop on her own. She went through court docs checking wits, did follow-ups. She went to see dealers in their cages. She was starting to push hard, then . . .”
“Pushed the wrong way, and Renee caught the scent.” Eve ordered the data to share the screen with Renee’s. Cued them up.
“We got names matching here. A lot of her names match what’s looking like Renee’s payroll.”
“You got the payroll?”
“I’ll fill you in. Feeney! I’m getting tired of holding this hammer.”
“Then set it down a damn minute.”
“Look at all this money.” Peabody gaped at the open duffle. “And ... a passport, ID. You found her hole? You found her hole without me?”
“You were busy doing a good job.”
“Now you can say hallelujah.” Roarke turned to her. “You’re tapped in, Lieutenant.”
