Shit.
If they now discovered that he was hiding Angie’s recent breakdown on the job, covering for her ... if they learned that he’d confiscated her knife and service weapon for fear that she’d kill him—yet another one of her partners—or use it on someone else ... Conflict, sharp, stabbed down through his insides. With it came a fierce stab of protectiveness, a determination to stand by her. And it was coupled with pure-white hatred for this beaky, squeaky, reedy, ball-less, insecure little man who had a penchant for titles and couldn’t just call anyone by their names. He needed to contact Angie. Stat. Tell her to sort herself and get back in here before Tillerman came looking for her. And nailedhimin the process, too.
“Acceptable to you?” Fitz said. “To take over from Buziak until further course of action is determined? Salary, of course, shall be commensurate. Your résumé shows that you successfully assumed similar administrative roles in the past, within a larger force, and have worked on serial cases. You’re ideally suited.” He flashed another quick smile.
Maddocks’s brain reeled as it weighed possible avenues of action, searching for ways out. This man was dangerous. He’d probably never trusted a soul in his life. The guys on the Limpet team were going to resent Maddocks, the new guy on the block, stepping into Buziak’s shoes ahead of any one of them. For being in bed with Inspector Frank Fitzsimmons and internal. Christ ... and then there was him being asked to spy on Angie, the woman he’d been sleeping with and for whom he was covering ... talk about a no-win situation.
“Or ... is there something I should know about?”
“Acceptable,” Maddocks said, standing up. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get down to take over that briefing.”
“Good, good. Pending outcome, there’s always a potential for the position to become more permanent. I think we will work well together.”
“Sir,” Maddocks said with a benign nod. He made for the door. But just before leaving, he turned and said, “One condition. I’m not exclusively a pen pusher. I go out into the field with officers, as warranted. I get a better handle on my team that way.”
Fitz’s beady eyes bored into him for a moment too long. “Fine,” he said slowly. “Sergeant Tillerman and I will see you again in this office in two weeks, seven a.m., for your first report on Detective Pallorino. Unless, of course, something arises that needs to be brought to our attention earlier.”
“One other thing,” Maddocks said. “I’ll need you to announce the news to the team about Buziak, and to introduce me as a temporary stand-in until he returns. I’ll delay the briefing by forty-five minutes so we can both prepare.” He waited a beat, watching Fitz’s features. “The news would be better received coming from you, sir. I need the support of the Limpet investigators.”
“Fair enough. Oh, before you go—there was a BOLO put out on the black Lexus, which was found to be registered to developer Ray Norton-Wells, husband of the assistant deputy attorney general.”
“Correct.”
“And the Lexus has since been reported to have been stolen.”
Maddocks felt his bile rise. He suddenly saw where this was going. “Yes.”
“We’re after that thief, Sergeant Maddocks. This has nothing to do with Ray Norton-Wells or his family. Correct?”
Maddocks’s gaze bored back into those beady black hawk eyes. “There are sensitive aspects to the investigation, yes. Hence our closed-door meetings, especially given that we still have a leak.”
“Hmm. I see. Well, let’s keep those doors closed, then, shall we? And nothing happens on that front without my say. Understood?”
“I see,” Maddocks said. He exited, shut the door quietly behind him, took a deep breath, then strode fast toward the fire escape stairwell. As he took the stairs down to the bowels of the station two at a time, he dialed Angie.
She did not pick up. His call went to voicemail.
At the bottom of the concrete stairwell, he tried again.
Voicemail. He hesitated before wording his message, acutely aware now that he was using a police-issue phone and was probably under scrutiny himself, he said, “Pallorino, it’s Sergeant Maddocks. I heard you called in sick. Check in and update me as soon as you are able.”
CHAPTER 51
Angie’s lungs burned raw as she thumped on her treadmill, feet pounding, arms pumping, sweat soaking her shirt. She was about six klicks into her run, hadn’t dropped the pace for an instant.
Her mind looped back to Gracie Drummond, Faith Hocking, how she’d been forced to call in sick, how she was locked out of one of the biggest investigations at the MVPD, and what this mess in her head was going to mean for her in the long run. She could only imagine what Leo and Holgersen and the others were speculating, because only once before in her career had she been too sick to come into work, and that was the day after Hash died. And it was only for a day.
Run. Flee. Run...uciekaj, uciekaj ...
She hit the speed button, making the tread move yet faster as she tried to outrace those wretched Polish words which she could not put into context.
Her phone rang again on the kitchen counter, and she slowed the machine gradually, sweat burning into her eyes. She dropped to a walking pace. Her calves ached. Her hips hurt. Her shoulders were painfully tight. Angie stepped off the treadmill and snagged her phone from the kitchen counter and checked the last incoming number.
Maddocks again.
Shecouldn’t speak to him—not until she’d figured this out and gotten her narrative all straight in her head.
The earlier calls had been from Holgersen. Not on her life was she going to talk to him, either. She’d left a message on Buziak’s phone, calling in sick, and that was it.
