The 5th Horseman (Women's Murder Club 5)

As soon as I stepped inside, Tracchio hung up the phone. He wagged a piece of paper in my face.

“This is a complaint, Lieutenant Boxer. Dr. Dennis Garza is accusing you of harassment. Says he’s going to sue the SFPD for a shitload of money. Any reaction?”

“Well, let him. He’s full of it.”

“Don’t give me that, Lindsay. What’s he talking about?”

As a point of law, harassment means words or actions directed at a specific person that annoy them or cause a lot of emotional distress for no legitimate purpose.

I had legitimate purpose to the nth degree.

Furthermore, I was running on four hours of sleep and a bowl of Special K.

My self-control broke its leash.

“We’re squeezing him and he’s squirming, Chief,” I shouted. “The balls on him to threaten us. The guy’s a psycho. You’ve got to back me up and let me follow my instincts.”

“How many millions have you got in the bank, Lieutenant? You want to take us down that road again?”

I shut up, stared into Tracchio’s small brown eyes, trying to reel myself in.

“Have you got anything on him?” Tracchio asked. “Help me out here.”

“Not a hair. Not a crumb.”

“I’m calling the guy,” he said. “I’ll try to settle him down. What’s he going to say to me?”

“Jacobi and I staked out his house most of the night. We followed him to work this morning.”

Tracchio just shook his head.

I walked to the doorway, and was almost out of there when I turned around to tell him, “By the way, the Chronicle has a lead on those buttons I told you about.”

“Oh, Christ.”

“The reporter is vetting the story now, but you can bet that this bomb is about to blow up. Pronto.”

Tracchio picked up the phone.

“You’re calling Garza?”

“I’m calling the mayor of La Jolla. See if that job he offered me is still open,” Tracchio snarled. “Get out of here.”

Fine. Yes, sir. I’m gone.

As I walked away, I heard Tracchio asking his secretary to get Dr. Garza on the line.

Chapter 111

YUKI WAS UNDER her bedcovers when the phone rang next to her ear. It was Cindy calling, shouting into the receiver, “The jury’s coming back with their decision. Are you sleeping, Yuki? It’s almost eleven fifteen!”

“I’m awake. I’m awake!”

“Well, get your skinny butt down to the courthouse. Hurry up.”

Twenty minutes later, Yuki entered courtroom 4A, aware of the eyes on her as she inched past bony knees and briefcases to the one empty spot.

Yuki crossed her arms and her legs, making herself into a tight little package.