“Lieutenant.”
She shoved her arms into the jacket, snarled at him. “What, goddamn it?”
He didn’t so much as blink. “Regarding your actions of last evening—”
“Don’t you start on me, hatchet-face.” She shoved by him, wrenched open the doors.
“I believe,” he continued in the same mild tone, “those actions were quite correct.”
He might as well have stunned her with her own weapon. Her mouth fell open as she looked back at him. “What did you say?”
“I also believe your hearing is unimpaired, and I dislike repeating myself.” That said, he walked down the hall and left her staring at him.
chapter nine
Nadine Furst was precisely on time, and ready to roll live. Eve hadn’t agreed to a live feed, but she didn’t object. It was a minor point, but one that Nadine noted.
They were friends, which didn’t surprise either of them as much as it once had. They settled into the one-on-one interview in Eve’s office with the smooth rhythm of practice. There were no bombshells. Nadine was fully aware Eve Dallas dropped no ammunition unless she intended to use it for her own purposes.
Still, the early interview with the primary investigator and the precise and carefully edited data put her report and her ratings considerably higher than her competition.
“With the available information,” Nadine concluded, “it would appear that Detective Kohli and Lieutenant Mills were killed in broadly different manners. Is it their attachment to the same precinct, the same squad, that leads you to believe their deaths are connected?”
Smart, Eve thought. She had no doubt Nadine had done a quick crash course on both victims and knew of their work on the Ricker bust. But she was clever enough not to bring up the man’s name before Eve gave her the signal.
“That connection, and certain evidence the department
is not able to make public, leads us to believe both Detective Kohli and Lieutenant Mills were killed by the same individual. In addition to their attachment to the One twenty-eighth, these officers had worked on some of the same cases. Those avenues are being pursued. The New York Police and Security Department will employ all available means to track down, identify, and bring to justice the killer of two of its own.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. This is Nadine Furst reporting live from Cop Central for Channel 75.” She tossed the playback to her station, nodded at her camera operator, then sat back.
Much like, Eve thought, a cat preparing to feast on a fat canary.
“Now,” she began.
“I’m running a little short on time here. I have to be in court.”
Nadine popped out of the chair. “Dallas—”
“Why don’t you walk me over?” Eve said casually, and gave the camera person a bland stare.
“Sure. It’s a nice day for a walk. Lucy, go on back to base. I’ll catch transpo.”
“Whatever.” Always affable, and perfectly aware something more was up, Lucy hauled her camera out.
“Talk to me,” Nadine demanded when they were alone. “Ricker.”
“Not here. Let’s walk.”
“Oh. You actually meant that.” Nadine glanced down at her stylish but impractical heels. “Hell, how I suffer to give the public their right to know.”
“You only wear those torture devices because they make your legs look hot.”
“Damn right.” Resigned, Nadine followed Eve out of the office. “So how are things on a personal front?”
Eve took the glide down, surprised at how nearly she skimmed toward telling Nadine about her problem with Roarke. Nadine was a woman, after all, and Eve had a feeling she needed to talk to a female about strategy or something.
Then it occurred to her that Nadine, for all her polished looks, sharp brains, and basic good humor, wasn’t one of the top runners in the successful race of male-female relationships.