“What are you talking about?”
“The cameras in the evidence room were fixed two weeks ago,” she said, and a cool, sharp sensation shot down my spine, realizing why she was calling me.
Shit, shit, shit.
“Why’d you take the fingerprints?” she asked me.
“I know who it was, and I know why she did it. She’s an innocent woman, Sal, she just let her emotions get the best of her.”
“Tell me.”
I relayed what I knew, minus the information about Maurelle, to Sal. She sighed deeply and I heard the sound of screeching coming from the other line.
“What the fuck was that?”
“I deleted the tape,” she said, sealing her own fate with mine. “No one needs to know. That fucker had it coming. Cold case it.”
“I would if Tommy didn’t suddenly want to start being a good detective,” I told her.
She sighed. “Give him the case that just came in. He can get lost in that murder case while you figure out how to cover your dumb ass.”
“What case? I haven’t been told anything.”
“O’Leary knew you were doing a notification, he held onto it,” she said. “Get your ass back here and flip it over to Tommy. Then you and I are going to need to chat.”
I groaned, knowing full well she would go into protective mother mode and I’d be forced to admit what I’d done with Maurelle.
I hung up and sped my way back to the precinct, hoping like hell I’d get there first. My mind reeled over the events since we picked up the case of Oliver Benoit-Clayton. Months, it had been over six months since that happened, and I was no closer to Maurelle than I was then.
I drove into my spot in the garage and found that Tommy wasn’t here yet. Racing up the stairs to go see Sal, I saw O’Leary heading out. He flagged me down.
“Cap?”
“New case has come in,” he told me. “Sal told me to give it to Tommy, she has some info on one of your coldies. Want me to tell her where to stick it?”
I chuckled. “No, I don’t think you want that kind of heat, sir. I’ll go see what she has. Tommy can handle it.”
“Good,” he said, moving off to join his friends at the elevator. I headed down the hall toward the CSI offices and located Sal behind a computer entering in some data. The office was empty, her assistants probably out at the new case.
“Sal.”
She turned her face to me and I saw the annoyance there already.
“Spill it.”
“Where’s the goon squad?” I asked, looking around.
“At the new scene.”
“What do you know?” I asked, trying to avoid the question I knew I was going to have to answer soon enough.
“Man in his fifties, upper crust of society, likely poisoning related.”
“Poisoning?”
“Yes, just like the one from Bentley.”
Fuck.
