“Mirina,” Whitney said, “come on to my office. We’ll talk.”
r /> “Talk?” She turned on him like a cat, gold and sleek, teeth bared for blood. “How can I talk to you? I trusted you. I thought you cared about me, about David, about all of us. You’ve let her lock David in a cell. And now my father.”
“Mirina, Marco came in voluntarily. We’ll talk about this. I’ll explain it all to you.”
“There’s nothing to explain.” She turned her back on him and aimed her scorching fury at Eve. “I went to my father’s house. He wanted me to stay in Rome, but I couldn’t. Not when every report in the media is smearing my brother’s name. When we arrived, a neighbor was more than happy, even gleeful, to tell me that my father had been taken away by the police.”
“I can arrange for you to speak with your father, Ms. Angelini,” Eve said coolly. “And your brother.”
“You’re damn right you’ll arrange it. And now. Where is my father?” She used both hands to shove Eve back a pace before Whitney or Slade could stop her. “What have you done with him, you bitch!”
“You want to keep your hands off me,” Eve warned. “I’ve just about had my fill of Angelinis. Your father’s in holding, here. Your brother’s in the tower at Riker’s. You can see your father now. If you want to see your brother, you’ll be shuttled over.” Her gaze flicked to Whitney, and stung. “Or since you’ve got some pull around here, you can probably have him transported to Visitation for an hour.”
“I know what you’re doing.” This was no fragile flower now. Mirina fairly vibrated with power. “You need a scapegoat. You need an arrest so that the media will get out of your face. You’re playing politics, using my brother, even my murdered mother, so that you won’t lose your job.”
“Yeah, some cushy job.” She smiled sourly. “I toss innocent people in a cage every day so I can keep all the benefits.”
“It keeps your face on the screen, doesn’t it?” Mirina tossed her glorious hair. “How much publicity have you traded over my mother’s dead body?”
“That’s enough, Mirina.” Whitney’s voice lashed like a whip, in one vicious snap. “Go to my office and wait.” He looked over her shoulder at Slade. “Take her out of here.”
“Mirina, this is useless,” Slade murmured, trying to tuck her under his arm. “Let’s go now.”
“Don’t hold me.” She bit off each word as if they were stringy meat, then shrugged away from him. “I’ll go. But you’re going to pay for the grief you’ve brought my family, Lieutenant. You’re going to pay for every bit of it.”
She stalked out, giving Slade time for only a muttered apology before he followed after her.
Whitney stepped quietly into the silence. “You okay?”
“I’ve dealt with worse.” Eve jerked a shoulder. Inside she was sick with anger and guilt. Sick enough that she wanted badly to be alone behind closed doors. “If you’ll excuse me, Commander, I want to finish going over this report.”
“Dallas—Eve.” It was the weariness in his tone that had her gaze lifting warily to his. “Mirina’s upset, understandably so. But she was out of line, way out of line.”
“She was entitled to a couple of shots at me.” Because she wanted to press her hands to her throbbing head, she tucked them negligently into her pockets. “I’ve just put what’s left of her family in a cage. Who else is she going to be pissed at? I can take it.” Her gaze remained cool, steely. “Feelings aren’t my strong suit.”
He nodded slowly. “I had that coming. I put you on this case, Dallas, because you’re the best I’ve got. Your mind’s good, your gut’s good. And you care. You care about the victim.” Letting out a long breath, he dragged a hand over his hair. “I was off base this morning, Dallas, in my office. I’ve been off base a number of times with you since this whole mess began. I apologize for it.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I wish it didn’t.” He searched her face, saw the stiff restraint. “But I see it does. I’ll take care of Mirina, arrange the visitations.”
“Yes, sir. I’d like to continue my interview with Marco Angelini.”
“Tomorrow,” Whitney said and set his teeth when she didn’t quite mask the sneer. “You’re tired, Lieutenant, and tired cops make mistakes and miss details. You’ll pick it up tomorrow.” He headed for the door, swore again, and stopped without looking back at her. “Get some sleep, and for Christ’s sake, take a painkiller for that headache. You look like hell.”
She resisted slamming the door after him. Resisted because it would be petty and unprofessional. But she sat down, stared at the screen, and pretended her head wasn’t shuddering with pain.
When a shadow fell over her desk moments later, she looked up, eyes fired for battle.
“Well,” Roarke said mildly and leaned over to kiss her snarling mouth. “That’s quite a welcome.” He patted his chest. “Am I bleeding?”
“Ha-ha.”
“There’s that sparkling wit I missed.” He sat on the edge of the desk where he could look at her and catch a glimpse of the data on the screen to see if that was what had put the miserable anger in her eyes. “Well, Lieutenant, and how was your day?”
“Let’s see. I booked my superior’s favorite godson on obstruction and other assorted charges, found what may be the murder weapon in his console drawer in the family town house, took a confession from the prime suspect’s father, who claims he did it, and just took a couple of shots between the eyes from the sister, who thinks I’m a media grabbing bitch.” She tried on a small smile. “Other than that, it’s been pretty quiet. How about you?”
“Fortunes won, fortunes lost,” he said mildly, worried about her. “Nothing nearly as exciting as police work.”