In Death 29 - Kindred in Death

it’s a waste of time. For what it’s worth, I got a decent view on how it went—and it went quick. Harrison’s telling it straight. He moved in to assist another officer. I can’t see hanging him for it.”
    “That won’t be up to me.”
    “I’d just caught sight of the bastard. Pauley. Just made him, then the place went up like somebody yelled ‘bomb.’ I couldn’t get to him, got pushed back, trapped in a corner. Trueheart carried some old woman out of it. She got knocked cold. We had him, Dallas. We’d’ve had him.”
    “Means jack now.” She dragged her hand through her hair. “And now I have to go get my ass fried like I just fried Cunningham’s.”
    “It’s not right. Not fucking right.”
    “My op. My soup.”
    Peabody was waiting when Eve stepped out. “The commander’s in the meditation room, this level. We can go over now.”
    “I’ll go over. Inform the team we’ll debrief at the conference room in one hour.”
    “I’ll inform the team, and we’ll go over. You’re rank, but we’re partners. I’m in this, too.”
    “No point in both of us getting our asses kicked over it.”
    “There is to me.”
    “Fine. It’s your ass.”
    “Every square inch. Trueheart! Inform the team we debrief in one hour at Central, conference room. It’s heady to outrank someone,” Peabody said as they continued on. “At least I outrank him for the moment.”
    “Whitney’s not going to bust you down to uniform. One of us leaked the sketch, and my money’s on a uniform there. So, after we’re roasted, we do some roasting ourselves. Either way, it comes down to a FUBAR on this op.”
    She stopped outside of the meditation room. “Last chance.”
    “No. I’m in.” Peabody opened the door herself.
    Jonah and Carol MacMasters sat together on a small sofa. From her chair, Anna Whitney leaned forward and poured tea from a delicate pot into delicate cups. Whitney turned from the window.
    “We’ll speak elsewhere,” he said, but before he could move away from the window, Carol sprang up.
    “How could you let this happen? How could you? At Deena’s memorial?”
    “Carol, stop. Stop.” MacMasters got to his feet.
    “It’s a disgrace.”
    “Yes, it is.” He took his wife by the shoulders. “And it was my men who caused it, not the lieutenant’s. It was my men.”
    “Regardless of that, this was my operation,” Eve said, “and my responsibility. I have no excuse, Mrs. MacMasters, and my apologies are hardly adequate.”
    “Is that supposed to mean something to me?” Her eyes burned with a fury Eve imagined hurt less than grief. “You take responsibility?”
    “No, but it’s all I have. I should be standing here telling you I have the man who killed your daughter in custody, and I’m not. Nothing I say can mean anything to you.”
    “Carol.” Anna put the teapot down. “You’ve been a cop’s wife too long to do this. You’ve been a cop’s wife long enough to know everything that can be done is being done, and that lashing out at the lieutenant doesn’t help Deena.” She stood. “Now, come with me. We’ll go sit with Deena while this is sorted out.”
    She led Carol out, closed the door quietly behind her.
    “Lieutenant,” Whitney said coolly, “report.”
    She did so just as coolly and in careful detail. When she spoke of Harrison and Cunningham, MacMasters rested his head in his hands.
    “Who leaked it?” Whitney demanded.
    “I’ll debrief within the hour, sir. I will have that information within an hour and five.”
    “I expect you to have better control of your team, Lieutenant. I expect you to have the judgment and control to prevent this sort of leak in an operation under your command.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Jack.” MacMasters spoke wearily. “They were my men.”
    “And as the lieutenant correctly stated, this was her op, and her responsibility.” Whitney turned his gaze pointedly to Eve. “Lieutenant, I’ll need a full evaluation and written report, tonight.”
    “Yes, sir. I’ll refine the team according to that evaluation, and present you with a detailed overview of the alternate operation to apprehend the suspect tomorrow with the Mimotos’s cooperation.”
    “If you expect me to sell not releasing Darrin Pauley’s sketch and some salient information to the public via the media to the commissioner, you’d better sell it to me.”
    “If we release the sketch, let him know we’re close, he’ll be in the wind.” He could already be in