In Death 11 - Judgment in Death

them. As she calculated the lay of the land, she made a call on her 'link. Almost casually.
    With what she hoped looked like panic, she pulled off the freeway just over the New York line. "I knew you wouldn't let me down," she murmured as the cars closed in behind her. "Morons."
    Satisfied the road was quiet enough, she punched the accelerator again, flew along. Then swung in a hard circle and drove headlong toward the pursuing cars. One veered right, one left, and at the speed they were traveling, they skidded off the road just as she hit her sirens.
    She hopped out, weapon drawn.
    "Police! Out! Everybody out, hands where I can see them." She saw the passenger in the second car reach inside his jacket, and she shot a blast at the headlights.
    Glass exploded even as the screams of other sirens joined hers.
    "Get your asses out of those vehicles right now." With her free hand, she whipped out her badge. "NYPSD. You're under arrest."
    One of the drivers got out, looking cocky. But he kept his hands in sight as two black and whites pulled up behind. "What's the charge?"
    "Why don't we start with speeding and go from there." She jerked a thumb. "Hands on the roof. You know the position."
    The uniforms swarmed in like bees. "Want them cuffed, Lieutenant?"
    "Yeah, I think they were resisting. And would you look at this?" She stopped patting down the first driver and plucked out his side arm. "Concealed weapon. Man, a banned weapon, too. Wow, you're in really big trouble."
    A quick search turned up more weapons, six ounces of Exotica, two of Zeus, a fancy set of burglary tools, and three short steel pipes, handy for spine cracking.
    "Haul these losers into Central for me, will you?" she asked the uniforms. "Book them on carrying concealed, possession of illegals, transporting banned weapons in a motor vehicle, and crossing state lines with same. Possession of suspicious merchandise."
    She grinned fiercely as she dusted off her hands. "Oh, and don't forget speeding. Mr. Ricker's going to be very unhappy with you boys. Very unhappy."
    She slid back into her car, rolled her shoulders.
    Temper, temper, Ricker, she thought, and rubbed absently at the ache where his fingers had dug. Never give orders when in emotional distress.
    Round one goes to me.

CHAPTER SIX
    Ian McNab tried to look casual as he wandered into the detectives' bullpen. It wasn't easy for a man sporting a waist-long braid and wearing orange flight pants to look casual, but he worked at it.
    He had an excuse for being in that area. A few of the detectives had tossed run requests on the witnesses listed in the Kohli case over to EDD. That was McNab's story, and he was sticking to it.
    He also had a reason for being in that area. And the reason was tucked into a skinny cubicle in the far corner, studiously doing tech work.
    She looked so cute when she was studious. He was gone on her, all right. He wasn't particularly happy about it, as his plan had always been to scoop as many women into his life as humanly possible. He just plain loved women.
    But then Peabody had marched into his life in her ugly cop shoes and spit-spot uniform, and that, as the historians say, was that.
    She wasn't completely cooperating. Oh, he'd finally gotten her into bed -- on the kitchen floor, in an elevator car, in an empty locker room -- and anywhere else his fluid imagination could devise. But she wasn't moony over him.
    He was forced to admit, though it grated daily, that he was well over that moon as regarded Officer Delia Peabody.
    He squeezed into her cubicle, settled his skinny butt on the corner of her desk. "Hey, She-Body. What's up?"
    "What are you doing out of EDD?" She kept right on working, didn't even glance up. "You break your chain again?"
    "They don't lock us up in EDD like they do over here. How do you work in this cage?"
    "Efficiently. Go away, McNab. I'm really swamped here."
    "The Kohli deal? It's all anybody can talk about. Poor son of a bitch."
    Because there was pity in his voice, she did glance up. And noted that his eyes, cool and green, weren't just sad. They were pissed. "Yeah. Well, we'll get the slime who killed him. Dallas is working the angles."
    "Nobody does it better. Some of the guys here asked us to run some names. Everybody in EDD from Feeney down to the lowest drone's on it."
    She worked up a sneer. "Why aren't you?"
    "I was elected to swing over and see if I could wangle an update. Come on, Peabody, we're in it, too. Give me something to take