“What about Saturday dinner?” she said.
“You’ve forgotten. I have dinner plans with Flint tomorrow. Then I fly out early Sunday morning. I’m going to be out of town until Monday evening for that law enforcement seminar on the mainland.”
“Oh shit, yes, I did forget. Do ... d’you want me to take you to the airport on Sunday?” Angie killed the Mini Cooper’s engine and felt an odd, sinking resignation leaching into her belly. She knew what she was doing—what they were both doing—but she couldn’t shift gears and get off this one-way track they seemed to be on now.
Maddocks seemed unable to shift gears, either, because his tone was cool and crisp as he said, “No. I’m sorted for the airport. I’ll call you when I get there.”
The phone clicked.
CHAPTER 10
Maddocks killed his call with Angie, a dark mood settling in his gut as he pushed open the door and entered the newly renovated iMIT section. The unit was buzzing, everyone excited about the arrest of the so-called Harris Park Rapist, a serial sexual offender who’d graduated to murder. Mustering his enthusiasm for his team, Maddocks threw a victory punch into the air. “Crown is charging him on all counts!” Cheers erupted.
“First round of drinks on me at the Pig tonight,” he declared as he made his way through the bullpen of metal desks toward his glassed-in office.
But as he passed Harvey Leo’s desk, the old detective said in a loud stage mutter, “Funny how Pallorino isstillmanaging to undercut the MVPD in the news, though. You’d thinkshejust saved the entire city by discovering that skeleton in the moss by the way those reporters are covering that story. They’re using it to drag up all the old crap about police brutality and how she overkilled the Baptist in a fit of rage and all that. Moves the dialogue completely away from what really matters—the factwehave shut down another serial killer. Without killing him first.”
Maddocks stilled in his tracks. He turned to face the old cop.
Silence fell as the men’s gazes locked. Tension swelled in the room. Rain ticked against the windows. A heating vent made cracking noises, and the smell of the new carpet became noticeable.
“You say something, Detective Leo?”
Leo folded his arms across his large chest and leaned back in his chair behind his desk cluttered with overstuffed files. “I’m just noting what the media is still saying about us city cops. Pallorino continues to taint us all with her brush. Doesn’t help that she’s your significant other, sir, because, respectfully, whatever you do as boss of the iMIT now, she’s hanging there like a negative stone around our collective neck. If she goes crossing paths with cases that belong squarely on law enforcement books, the next thing the newspapers are going to be saying is that she’s getting personal information from the inside. Just noting we gotta keep those personal affiliations separate.”
Pressure torqued rocket-tight in Maddocks’s chest. “You’re right, Leo,” he said very quietly. “Personal feelings—like long-held animosity, jealousy—you need to let it go because it can cloud judgment, make an officer do and say very stupid things. Things that beg to have him kicked off this unit.” Maddocks faced the crowd in the room.
“Let me make one thing crystal clear. To all of you. Whatever happens in this unit, whatever is discussed in this unit, it stays right here.” He jabbed his index finger onto Leo’s desk, his jaw tight, anger simmering beneath his skin. “Nothing, and I mean nothing, is said to the press or to anyone who is even vaguely affiliated to the media. You don’t talk to your spouses about ongoing investigations; you don’t talk to your girlfriends or boyfriends; you don’t talk to your kids or your grandparents. You talk to no one.” He turned and met the eyes of each and every person in the section.
“That goes for me, too. Do you all understand this? I don’t divulge sensitive information to my partner, and neither do you. If anyone—anyone—has a problem with this or with me or with my relationship with Pallorino, speak up now.”
He waited.
Silence met him. Some members shuffled in their seats. Someone cleared his throat.
“Good. Because we’re all professionals here. We know how to keep work separate. I trust you. You’re going to trust me. And the minute I don’t”—he pointed to the door—“there’s the exit. I’ve got a dozen other highly qualified MVPD members banging on that door to be let in here, to be part of this new and elite team. But Inspector Flint and I picked you. I vouched for every one of you, because I believe you each have what it takes, a unique skill to contribute to major incident investigations. Prove me wrong, I pull you. No warning. No second chance. Understand?”
No one moved.
He turned to the old detective. “Your skill, Leo, given your very long history with the force, is required for a new sub unit I’m initiating. There’s an incident room being set up one door down as we speak. Get out. Go wait for me there.”
Leo’s clear blue eyes flickered. His brow furrowed, confusion showing on his rugged face.
“Move it. Now.”
Leo unfolded his arms, picked up his notebook and pen off the table, came slowly to his feet, and made his way through the desks. All eyes followed him.
“Holgersen,” Maddocks said, jerking his head toward his office. “A word?”
Holgersen followed Maddocks into the glass office. Maddocks shut the door, trying not to look at the framed photo of Angie on his desk. She was running again in considering that bodyguard job. He knew it. She knew it. But he didn’t know what to do about it or even when to stop trying. A quote from an old poster he once had pinned up on his bedroom wall as a kid entered his brain.
If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it’s yours... That was the part he got stuck on. He wonderedifAngie would actually come back to him if she took that job away from home. And whether he should maybe just let it be.
“I’ve got something new for you,” he told Holgersen. “I’m starting a cold case unit. Unsolved homicides and suspicious missing persons incidents. This will be a small subsection under the iMIT umbrella. There’s new money for it, and it’s a direction the new police board wants. There’s also been considerable political pressure for an increase in our closure rates. Reopening some of these old cases and applying new forensic technology, plus using new computerized databases and social media, could go a long way to addressing those rates. You’ll have a dedicated cold case tip line operational within the next few days, along with social media accounts and support staff. And you’ll have access to additional resources and personnel as you need them. You’ll bring your requests to me.” He paused.
Holgersen started shuffling foot to foot, his brown eyes darting around the room like a junkie jonesing for a fix. “How big is this unit—how many on the team?”
“Two detectives. To start. You and Harvey Leo.”
