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As soon as I saw John Macy, my mind raced. How to handle him? Should I simply pretend yesterday’s encounter never happened? Ignore him and hope he did the same with me? Then I started thinking reasonably, like an adult human being.
He seemed to be walking directly to my desk. Before he reached me, I said, “Hello, John. I’m sorry about yesterday. My jokes got a little out of hand. I was wrong, and I apologize.”
Macy was dressed in another stunning designer suit and carried a leather satchel. I wasn’t sure what his reply would be. Would he apologize in return? Strike back savagely and inform me I’d been removed from the case?
But Macy’s choice was essentially to ignore me. He nodded in acknowledgment that he’d heard me but said nothing. He walked right past my desk and took a seat in front of Brett Hollis.
Hollis looked as surprised as I was.
Macy didn’t waste any time. “As I understand it, Detective Hollis, you are now my contact on this case and, for all intents and purposes, the lead detective. At least as far as the mayor’s office is concerned.”
Hollis started to answer, but Macy cut him off.
“First, I’d like to have an overview of the case. Second, I’d like you to show me exactly how the task force is working. This afternoon I will have a photographer from the mayor’s office with me to take pictures, which we will make available to the media.”
Hollis fumbled for a reply. I had to bite my tongue. Literally. What kind of moron exposed an active investigation and its tactics while a killer was still out there targeting victims? Politicians and the news media didn’t care about the consequences when there was a chance to make a splash or grab a headline.
Macy kept the freight train rolling. “I’m going to check in with you at 10 a.m. and 6 p.m. every day,” he told Hollis. “Before each check-in, I expect to have received from you by email a one-page memo summarizing your investigation during the preceding hours.”
“I don’t have access to the entire case,” Hollis demurred. “I’m just running leads off the tip line.”
I was impressed at Hollis’s misleading statement. The young detective was learning the ways of bureaucracy. I felt a little like Yoda.
Macy didn’t miss a beat. “You will confer with Lieutenant Grissom as needed to fill in the gaps in your knowledge.”
Hollis sat there, unsure what to do or where to turn. Every cop has been in this spot: a superior from the police department, or a local political hack, pressuring you for information you’re not comfortable disclosing.
Macy’s face turned more severe as Hollis hesitated in his response. “Was there anything I said you didn’t understand?”
“No.”
I was secretly glad Hollis didn’t add a sir. Macy didn’t deserve that kind of respect.
Macy eased up and said, “I’m trying to help you, Son. Right now the police have a serious PR problem in this country. The public doesn’t rate them as highly as they used to. I want to fix that.”
Hollis gave Macy another confused look. “We may have bad PR right now, but we’re still way ahead of politicians and lawyers. So at least the people have some commo
n sense.”
It was hard not to cheer when I saw the scowl on Macy’s face. I was also thrilled to witness that my new partner could handle himself just fine.
Macy said, “It won’t take much for this killer to push the city into an all-out panic. We need to calm people down and catch this guy before he takes another victim. And smart-ass comments from the local cops won’t help the situation. You have your orders. I expect you to carry them out.”
On that subject, at least, I agreed with this pompous ass.
Chapter 41
My alarm clock went off before sunrise, and I groggily faced the new day. Last night I’d gotten home after dark. It had been too late for dinner, and I’d barely had the energy to interact with my kids. I missed them, and I missed Mary Catherine. This was not how I wanted to live.
I jumped out of bed quickly and got dressed. I wanted to spend at least some time with the kids this morning. When I stepped into the living room, though, it took me a few moments to process an astonishing sight: all six of my daughters—Juliana, the oldest, plus Jane and the twins, Bridget and Fiona, even Shawna and Chrissy—were lined up facing Mary Catherine.
They were standing at attention, looking like marine recruits about to be inspected by their drill sergeant. All six wore flowy yellow dresses with white lace around the neck and the sleeves. Only the two youngest, Chrissy and Shawna, looked happy about the exercise.
I said, “What’s this? Am I having a dream where there are nothing but beautiful women in the world?”
The older girls did not appreciate my comment. Shawna and Chrissy giggled.
Mary Catherine said, “It’s so much easier to coordinate bridesmaids when your groom can provide the entire wedding party. The girls and I have been getting separate fittings, so this is my first chance to see what they look like as a group.”
