In Death 15 - Purity in Death

it?"
    "He's up to his neck."
    "The mother?"
    Eve shook her head. "I don't think so. She's too passive. I'm doing a background to try to determine how skilled a programmer Duke might be. Regardless, I believe him to be a key player. He wouldn't settle for less. I could break him in Interview. He's angry and he's arrogant, and he needs to be right. He doesn't like women in authority, either, so that'll push. Likes them in their proper place," she continued, half to herself. "Wife's all shined up like a show dog, wearing an apron. Lip dye and earrings at nine in the morning."
    "My wife puts on her makeup before breakfast"
    "Weird. But nobody intimidates Mrs. Whitney. Nobody pushes her around." Eve caught herself, winced. "No disrespect intended, Commander."
    "None taken."
    "I need a few more threads to tie Dukes, then I can bring him in."
    "Find the threads, and make them strong ones."
    "I think he's maintained a relationship with the social worker and the cop who were on his son's case. And I think they're involved. I tie any one of them, I'll tie them all."
    They streamed through another intersection, turned west.
    "Make sure of it. A mistake will blow this up in our faces and you'll take the brunt of that. On another matter, it was good to see McNab on his feet."
    "Yes, sir, very good."
    "He looks a little shaky yet."
    "I'm keeping his workload light, and Peabody's . . ." She clammed up, redirected. Must be something about walking outside like a couple of tourists that loosened her tongue, she decided. "Peabody's taking up the slack."
    "Do you think I'm unaware of the relationship between the EDD detective and your aide, Lieutenant?"
    Eve stared straight ahead. "I don't like to talk about it. It makes me twitchy."
    "Excuse me?"
    "Literally. I get this tic right under my eye every time . . . Never mind. Both Detective McNab and Officer Peabody fulfill their duties in an exemplary fashion. I plan to submit Peabody's name for consideration for promotion to Detective First Grade."
    "How many years does she have in?"
    "Almost three, and over a year of that in Homicide. Her work and her record warrant the consideration, sir. If you could find time to look at her files, and my evaluations, and if you agree with my recommendation, she could start preparing for the test."
    "I'll let you know. Can you spare McNab for an hour, maybe two, this afternoon?"
    "Yes, sir, if necessary."
    "Then I'm pulling him. He'll do a one-on-one with Furst, in studio, in response to the statements issued this morning."
    "Sir, that doesn't go down easy. Putting him on display after his injuries? On the day of Halloway's memorial?"
    "This is what's known as compromise, Lieutenant." His tone remained mild, a dash of ice water on the heat of hers. "Power and authority demand compromise. Do you doubt he can handle it? More, do you doubt he'll stand for Halloway?"
    "No, sir, I don't doubt it."
    "You don't like him being used as a symbol." Whitney moved to the entrance of Cop Central. "But that's what he is. And, Lieutenant, so are you."
    Inside, he looked around the enormous lobby with its many data stations, animated locator maps. At the cops, at the victims, at the guilty.
    "And so," he said, "is this. This stands for law and order, and it's on display. It is, very simply, on trial due to the manipulations and maneuvers of a group of terrorists. It's more than closing your case. It's winning the verdict. Find the threads. If you're going to take down the father of a dead teenager, be sure you tie them tight."
    ***
    She decided to tie other threads by taking the time to write an official report on her morning activities. But when she walked into her office, Don Webster was at her desk.
    "I keep finding IAB in my chair, I'm going to have to have it replaced."
    "Close the door, Dallas."
    "I've got a report to write, then I have to get out in the field."
    He got up, closed the door himself. "We'll make this quick. I have to record this conversation."
    "What's this conversation, and why do you have to record it?"
    "It's in regards to your access of data contained in sealeds. Take a minute to think," he said before she could speak. "Take a minute to think before the recorder goes on."
    "I don't need a minute. Turn it on and get this over with. I have a few pesky murders to solve while you're filing your internals."
    "This is SOP. You know it. You had to know this was coming."
    "To tell you the truth, I didn't think of it." And she'd kick herself for that