Page 58 of Fury In Death

“Peabody and I have just returned from interviewing Jacob Wyst.”

“I’m aware,” he repeated. “As is Chief Tibble, who’ll sit in on your report. Jacob Wyst contacted him shortly ago to complain about your harassment of him and others employed at Banner-Wyst, your attempts to smear him, and the dead, in order to undermine his company, a competitor of Roarke’s.”

“Sir. Anticipating the possibility of this, I have the interview on record. I can play it for you and Chief Tibble now.”

Whitney took a long beat. “Lieutenant Dallas, do you think I wouldn’t take your word?”

“I know you would, Commander, and sincerely, that’s an honor. But Wyst has a long reach, politically, and others may require proof. I’d like to say—”

“Save it.” Whitney walked to his desk. “Chief Tibble will join us holographically. Say what you like to both of us.” He started to hit the program, paused. “I know you generally prefer to stand, but you’re welcome to sit.”

“I’m fine, sir.”

Whitney engaged the program. Tibble flickered into the room, another big man with an athlete’s build in a suit shades darker than Whitney’s. He, too, had started on the street.

“Commander, Lieutenant. I’d be there in person, but I’m in meetings uptown. Lieutenant, you appear to have poked a bear.”

“Chief, I’m investigating two murders, the result of brutal beatings, within hours of each other, and with undisputable connections to each other and Banner-Wyst.”

“Jacob Wyst feels you’ve been overly aggressive, overly focused on his company. And with a personal agenda to enhance your husband’s business interests by undermining and denigrating his company.”

“All interviews conducted at Banner-Wyst were recorded.”

She started to remove her lapel recorder, and stopped when Tibble shot up a hand.

“I’ll want a copy of the recordings for my files. I have a question, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Since I’ve served as chief of the New York Police and Security Department, have you ever known me to undermine my officers?”

“No, sir, I have not.”

“Follow-up question. Do you think I’d bend to the pressure from someone of wealth and some influence who demands I reprimand and remove one of the NYPSD’s finest during an investigation when she, her partner, her division have proven themselves again and again to be worthy of the badge? Do you believe I’m so easily compromised?”

“No, sir. You were a cop first. You’re a cop now.”

“That’s an excellent answer. Wyst and Banner may have certain politicians in their pockets, but they don’t have me. They don’t have the mayor—whom I’ve already spoken with.”

He’s pissed off, Eve realized. Seriously pissed off. And it occurred to her the only other person she’d known who could keep boiling anger under a block of ice was Roarke.

“You are, Lieutenant, neither reprimanded nor removed.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t thank me.” He snapped it. “You do your job, I do mine. As to the conflict of interest? Address it.”

“Sir. Roarke is officially an expert consultant, civilian, for the department for good reasons. And he, too, has proven himself, again and again. Do I discuss the details of cases with him? Absolutely, and for those good reasons. He has never taken advantage of that for his own gain. If I believed for one instant he would do so, he wouldn’t be my husband.”

“They say love’s blind.”

“Then they’re idiots. Love’s not blind, not the real thing anyway. You can’t love someone, not the real thing, unless you see them for who they are. You can want them, you can need them, but you can’t love them, not the long haul.”

She let out a huff of breath. “And Roarke sure as hell doesn’t need me to enhance his business interests. Sir.”

“Well, that answers that. Copy me on those recordings, and all reports going forward in your current investigation. I’ve got your back on this. Jack, carry on. Dallas? Go get ’em.”

He flickered away.