Apprentice in Death (In Death 43)

To make that happen, Eve merely stepped to the door, shouted, “Peabody!”

But she did program a coffee regular and shove it into her partner’s hand when Peabody came in, double-time clomp.

“Close the door. Okay, here’s how I want to play it. There’s some timing involved.”

Eve ran it through for them. Together they discussed strategy, tactics, legalities. As she finished off her coffee, she glanced over at the sharp knock on her door.

“That’s going to be Nadine. Peabody, go on and check on our suspect—from Observation. I’m going to need about ten minutes.”

Eve opened the door. Before Nadine could spew out the words that went with the hard gleam in her eyes, Reo stepped forward.

“Hey! How are you? I heard you were at Madison Square.”

“Backstage and out of the action.”

“Plenty of action around here, and more to come. If I don’t get a chance to see you before you leave, we’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Same goes.” And Peabody, recognizing that gleam, hustled out with Reo.

Now Nadine shut the door. “You lied to me.”

“I did not. Would I, if it saved lives? Absolutely. But I didn’t. I used you,” Eve added. “And as a result you saved lives. One of them could have been mine. Thanks.”

“What kind of bullshit—”

“It’s not. You can spend the time I have to give you bitching at me, or you can let me lay it out for you then have your exclusive. Your choice.”

The gleam stayed hard. “We’re supposed to be friends, over and above the rest of it, Dallas. We’re supposed to be friends.”

“Yeah, that happened. That happened and because of it I never thought of or considered tagging anyone else. I know my friends. I may have more of them than I actually want, but I know them or they wouldn’t be. And I knew I could count on you.”

“You could have told me the truth, and still counted on me.”

Since she’d figured they’d have to push through this first, Eve shrugged, programmed coffee for Nadine.

“I did tell you the truth. I left out the part of it that would have compromised your journalistic integrity.” She passed Nadine the coffee. “Because, fuck it, Nadine, we’re not supposed to be friends. We are.”

“Just how did—” Obviously still riding on plenty of mad, Nadine stopped herself, held up a hand. “Fine. Lay it out.”

“I was on my way to the op on Lex. And I peeled off on a hunch. It hit me, that’s all. It just did, and when it did, I knew I needed a distraction if the hunch played out. I fed you the Lexington Avenue op when I verified the suspect was holed up—with a fucking armory—at her mother’s house. She’d have spotted us coming in, and it’s a pretty sure bet somebody, many more than a couple of somebodies would be in the hospital now, if not the morgue, if we hadn’t been able to distract her. You coming on with the bulletin fixed her attention on her screen. It made her believe she was safe where she was, and I could call in the rest of the team while we moved in on her.

“She’s in Interview now, Nadine, and with minimal damage to all parties, because you told her what I needed her to hear.”

Nadine scanned Eve’s face. “You call that minimal. You’ve got a black eye. And what’s wrong with your hand?”

“Minimal,” Eve said again. “You gave me the window. I used you to open the window. You went on the air with what I gave you, which wasn’t a lie. I couldn’t give you the rest, for obvious reasons. And I couldn’t give you the rest and ask you to report half a story. I don’t know all the Friendship Rules, but I’m going to say one of them’s not asking and expecting a friend to compromise her professional integrity to open a window for you.”

Nadine huffed, then pulled out Eve’s desk chair and sat. She drank some coffee. “The Lexington Avenue op wasn’t bullshit?”

“No, it wasn’t. We were following a viable lead. Viable because the person giving us that lead believed it. That would be her father.”

Nadine straightened in the chair. “Her father flipped on her?”

“Not exactly, and if you want to ask questions, why don’t we do it? I’ve got a case to close.”

Nadine sat another moment. “I hated getting scooped by that putz from New York–One.”

Eve shrugged again. “Happens, right? He’s probably going to hate you going on with details of the arrest—with a follow-up on the result of the interview with said suspect.”