In Death 23 - Born in Death

looking.”
    “On the e-front, McNab reports that files have been deleted from Copperfield’s office unit.”
    “Is Detective McNab now reporting to you? Was there a change in command during the last twenty minutes?”
    Knowing that tone, Peabody kept her own very even. “Detective McNab believed we were together, sir, either here or in the field. As I understood you were with the commander, I took his report, and am now reporting same.”
    “I’m in EDD.”
    Baxter and Peabody exchanged eye rolls behind her back. And fortunately for their welfare, had instincts quick enough to have those eyes focused on the work when she spun around.
    “Nobody enters this room or approaches these files without my authority. Clear?”
    “Yes, sir!”
    When the door was slammed, Peabody let out a long, whistling breath. “Whitney put a really nasty bug up her butt.”
     
    E ve stormed into EDD and through to the comp lab to find McNab. He was hunkered over Copperfield’s office unit. A handful of other detectives or techs worked on various comps in the same area.
    “You’re to use a privacy cube at all times when working on this case.”
    “Huh? What?” He dragged off a headset.
    “This case is now flagged Blue. Privacy cube, verbal reports. Need-to-know basis.”
    “Oooo-kay.” He stepped back, just a little, as if he felt the heat pumping off her and was afraid he’d get burned. “I’ve got some deletions. They were—”
    “Privacy cube,” she snapped. “Now.”
    “Yes, sir. It’s going to take me a few minutes to set it up.”
    “Then get started.” She stormed out, veered off, and swung into Feeney’s office. He was sitting at his desk, machine-gunning on his keyboard while he hummed a tune.
    Every so often he’d mutter, “Almost got you, you little bastard.”
    “Your detectives have trouble understanding direct orders, or the chain of command?” she demanded.
    He cursed, glanced up. He saw what Peabody had seen on her face. Easing back, he jerked his chin at the door. “Wanna shut that?”
    She slammed it. “When I’m primary, the men assigned to the team, whether they’re EDD or Homicide, report to me.”
    “You got a complaint about one of my boys?” They were all his boys to Feeney, regardless of their chromosomes.
    It caught her just before she spewed. What was she doing? Playing tattletale over nothing just because she was pissed. “I’ve got a sensitive case,” she began.
    “Yeah, I know about it. My boys report to me, and I logged in the electronics as you requested. So?”
    “Big money sensitive. You figure Roarke would climb over my two vics, use that big money sensitive data to edge out a competitor? You figure he’d use my investigation or any information I might share with him therein for personal gain?”
    “What the fuck you talking about? McNab make some idiot comment?”
    “No. Whitney made a direct statement.”
    Feeney pursed his lips, then blew out a breath. Then dragged his fingers through his wiry tangle of ginger and gray hair. “I got some of that coffee left you gave me for Christmas. Want a hit?”
    “No. No,” she repeated and walked to his window. “Goddamn it, Feeney. He wants to slap at me for something I did or didn’t do on the job, something one of my squad did or didn’t, that’s okay. But to imply Roarke would use me, that I’d permit it, that’s over the line.”
    “Have some almonds.”
    She only shook her head.
    Feeney dipped his fingers into the bowl of candied nuts on his desk. “Want my take?”
    “I guess I do. I come pushing in here when you’re busy, I must need your take.”
    “Then I’ll give it to you. I expect some of those honchos—and the lawyers who love them—have been stomping their feet, flapping their jaws. Complaining to the mayor, the chief. Mayor and chief give Whitney the word. He’s got to take the departmental line, give you the warning. Want my take on his personal line?”
    “I guess I do.”
    “I’ve known him a long time. If he had any genuine concerns in this area, he’d take you off the case. Period. By doing that, he’d cover his ass. Instead, he gave you the word, and he’s leaving his ass hanging out there.”
    “Maybe.”
    “Dallas?” He waited until she’d turned around. “You got any worries about Roarke on this?”
    “No. Goddamn no.”
    “You think I do, or that any member of the team currently working the case has any worries?”
    The tightness in her chest eased a little.