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“Commander Whitney, threats are hardly productive.”
Whitney skewered the lawyer with a look. “If you speak again, I will have you removed from this office. You were not invited here. Your client has no need for legal counsel as he is in no danger, unfortunately, of being placed under arrest. Now, I want all the data and reports, lists and files this department demanded after being, belatedly, informed of Isaac McQueen’s escape.”
“We have quite a bit of data for you. Unfortunately, our internal investigation is not yet complete. It’s, of course, imperative that this investigation be thorough and comprehensive. We expect t
o have those reports finalized and in your hand by the end of the day.”
Whitney’s stare could have melted iron. “If you stall thirty seconds more, this is what’s going to happen. I will hold a media conference, along with my lieutenants and these agents. I will announce not only that Isaac McQueen walked out of your facility after murdering a medical, but that you deemed it proper to delay informing the NYPSD of this escape for over eighteen hours. During which time, McQueen assaulted and raped a female victim, assaulted her male cohab. I will provide graphic details of these attacks.”
“Commander—”
“Shut up. I’m not done. I will further report that your facility has delayed another twenty-four hours in providing this department and the FBI with vital and pertinent data, and that charges of obstruction of justice are being considered. I will then have Lieutenant Dallas remind the public just what she found when she apprehended Isaac McQueen twelve years ago. You’ll be lucky if they don’t come for you with pitchforks.”
He waited a beat. “I want everything you’ve got, and now, including your preliminary reports and findings on your internal investigation. Thirty seconds,” Whitney repeated when Greenleaf looked at Spring for guidance. “Don’t test me again.”
Spring opened her briefcase. “Permission to speak,” she said, in bitter tones.
“No. Put the files on my desk, then get out. Both of you. If all the data required and requested is not within those files, Greenleaf, you’re going to need a lawyer, as is your superior. Feel free to pass that information along to him.”
Spring laid a disc bag on Whitney’s desk, then shook her head when Greenleaf started to speak again. She turned on her fancy heels, strode out with her client scurrying after her.
For a moment, there was absolute silence.
Throughout the ass-kicking, Laurence sat, silent and still. His face put Eve in mind of some African chieftain. Handsomely carved, fiercely stoic.
Now, a grin spread over those sculpted planes and angles. “It’s inappropriate,” he said, “but I really want to applaud. One question, Commander, would you have done it? Gone public?”
“Lieutenant Dallas?” Whitney glanced at her. “Would I?”
“You gave them more time than you wanted, than was necessary. They showed no genuine concern for endangering the public, or even for the murder of an employee in their facility. They decided they’d run the show—and illustrate it by being deliberately late to this meeting, and continuing to stall on the results of their internal. Had it been necessary, you would have gone to the media and roasted them. As it is, I believe you’ll use whatever influence and contacts you have to see that Greenleaf, his lawyer, and his superior have their contracts canceled.
“In my opinion, Commander.”
“Lieutenant Dallas has just given you a brief demonstration of why she’s one of the most valuable assets of the NYPSD. She observes, deduces, and reports with accuracy.”
Eve took her copies of the data files to her office with a quick signal for Peabody to follow when she swung through the bullpen.
“How’d it go?” Peabody asked. “It took longer than I figured, so I was starting to get jumpy.”
“The prison people kept us waiting, kept trying to stall. Whitney sliced and diced them like one of those Samurai chefs. It was beautiful. I think we got lucky with the feds. I’m not reading complete asshole, though I believe they’re pursuing the wrong angles. And Tusso from FA’s got teams in place at McQueen’s known hunting grounds. Now sit down.”
“Uh-oh.”
“I have names, connections, and a plan of action already. I’m not going to tell you how I got the data.”
“Okay.”
“Officially, I gathered the data by standard means, maybe brushing the line a little. I’ve already passed what I could with those parameters to the other investigators. The feds will be talking to one of the guards. He’s dirty. We’ll take a lay addiction counselor. He’s involved. I know this because I was able to generate a list of probable partners, and he’s connected to several females who visited McQueen in prison. Four of them made my short list. One’s in New York. We’ll talk to her.”
Peabody puffed out her cheeks. “The meet may have taken longer than I thought, but we’re a lot further along than I figured.”
“Not far enough. He’s had almost two days. The guard’s a tossaway. Gambling addict, and though I wasn’t able to pass it on, the feds will shortly find out he’s got a not-very-well-hidden account where he’s been making regular deposits of two large a month, for years. McQueen knew we’d track that, pull the guard in. He won’t know anything much.”
“Which is why you gave him to the feds.”
“He has to be interviewed, sweated some. He may have more than I think. But it’s Stipple who rings for me. He won’t know McQueen’s plans, not the fine details anyway, but he may know or have a good guess as to who he’s hooked up with. The woman’s on the way, so we’ll take her first. I need you to run and analyze all the data the prison just handed over en route. Searches and anal fully on record now. Let’s go.”
“How are we handling the coordination with the other teams?”
