The Cold Moon (Lincoln Rhyme 7)

"No."

"Come on into my office, Detective. I'll see what we can do."

Sachs ignored the clerk. She didn't want to give her the satisfaction.

Through the nondescript halls, turning corners here and there, not saying a word. Sachs struggling on her arthritic legs to keep up with the man's energetic pace.

Inspector Jefferies strode into his corner office, nodded at the chair across from his desk and closed the door, which had a large brass plaque on it. Halston P. Jefferies.

Sachs sat.

Jefferies suddenly leaned down, his face inches from hers. He slammed his fist onto the desk. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Sachs reared back, feeling his hot, garlicky breath wash over her face: "I . . . What do you mean?" She swallowed the "sir" she'd nearly appended to the sentence.

"Where are you out of?"

"Where?"

"You fucking rookie, what's your house?"

Sachs couldn't speak for a moment, she was so shocked by the man's fury. "Technically I'm working Major Cases--"

"What the hell does 'technically' mean? Who're you working for?"

"I'm lead detective on this case. I'm supervised by Lon Sellitto. In MC. I--"

"You haven't been a detective--"

"I--"

"Don't you ever interrupt a superior officer. Ever. You understand me?"

Sachs bristled. She said nothing.

"Do you understand me?" he shouted.

"Perfectly."

"You haven't been a detective very long, have you?"

"No."

"I know that, because a real detective would've followed protocol. She would've come to the dep inspector and introduced herself and asked if it was all right to review a file. What you did . . . Were you about to interrupt me again?"

She had been. She said, "No."

"What you did was a personal insult to me." A fleck of spittle arced between them like a mortar round.

He paused. Would it be an interruption to talk now? She didn't care. "I had no intention of insulting you. I'm just running an investigation. I needed a file that's turned up missing."

"'Turned up missing.' What kind of thing is that to say? Either it's turned up or it's missing. If you're as sloppy with your investigating as you are with your language, I'm wondering if you didn't lose the file yourself and're trying to cover your ass by blaming us."

"The file was checked out of the One Three One and routed here."

"By who?" he snapped.

"That's the problem. That part of the log was blank."