Wednesday, February 18,
9:00 p.m.
Finally. He sat in his car safely out of the flurry of uniformed activity taking place inside the parking garage. Lights flashed and yellow tape was strung everywhere. Either some political dignitary had been murdered in the garage or Kristen Mayhew had finally looked in her trunk. He was pretty certain he could disregard the former.
He’d been busy in the last weeks. He was up to six. Six down, about a million to go.
He’d taken his first in secret, painlessly and quietly.
And had discovered it wasn’t nearly enough. Not enough that he’d done such a thing for the world. For the victims. For his Leah. It wasn’t enough that he be the only one to know. It wasn’t enough that he be the only one to celebrate.
So he’d abruptly changed his plan and once done, it was easy to determine who else would know what he’d done. The person who most deserved to know.
„But he’s never done Homicide. I gotta have someone with some experience here.“
„He’s got experience, Mia.“ Spinnelli’s voice was soothing without being condescending. Abe liked that. „He’s been undercover in Narcotics for the last five years.“
Five years. He’d gone under a year after Debra was shot, hoping the added risk would dull the pain of watching his wife exist in the life-support-induced limbo doctors called a persistent vegetative state. It hadn’t. A year ago she’d died and he stayed with his cover, hoping the risk would dull the pain of losing her completely. That it had done.
Mitchell was silent and Abe had started to knock when Spinnelli’s voice cut through once again, this time reproachful. „Did you read any of the information I gave you?“
Another half beat of silence, followed by Mitchell’s defensive answer. „I didn’t have time. I was making sure Cindy and the kids had food on the table.“
Cindy would be Mrs. Ray Rawlston, the widow of Mitchell’s former partner who’d been killed in an ambush that left Mitchell with a scar just above her ribs where a bullet narrowly missed every major organ. It would appear Mitchell was a lucky cop. It would also appear that Abe knew a lot more about her than she knew about him. No longer compelled to eavesdrop, he rifted his knuckles to the door in a hard knock.
„Come.“ Spinnelli sat behind his desk and Mitchell leaned against a wall, arms crossed over her chest, eyeing him sharply. At five-four, her 125 pounds was a well-distributed muscled mass. Her file said she was single, never been married, thirty-one years old. Her face looked a good deal younger. Her eyes, on the other hand… She might as well have been coming up for her retirement Timex. Abe knew the feeling.
Spinnelli stood, his hand extended in greeting. „Abe, so good to see you again.“
Abe met Spinnelli’s eyes briefly as he shook his hand, but quickly resumed his study of his new partner. Her eyes met his even though she had to bend her neck to look up. She didn’t blink as she continued to lean against the wall, every muscle visibly tensed.
„Good to see you, too, Lieutenant.“ He returned her stare. „You’re Mitchell.“
She nodded coolly. „Last I checked, that was the name on my locker.“
Well, at least this won’t be boring, he thought. He stuck his hand out. „Abe Reagan.“
She shook his hand fast, as if sustaining physical contact was a painful thing. Maybe it was. „I figured that out myself.“ She shot him a hostile look. „Why’d you leave Narcotics?“
„Mia!“
Abe shook his head. „It’s okay. I can give Detective Mitchell the Reader’s Digest version since she’s been too busy to read my file.“ Mitchell’s eyes narrowed but she said nothing. „We closed a five-year sting operation, nabbing the bad guys and 50 million in pure heroin, but my cover was blown in the process.“ He shrugged. „Time to move on.“
Her stare never wavered. „Okay, Reagan, you made your point. When do you start?“
„Today,“ Spinnelli said. „Everything finished up in Narcotics, Abe?“
„Almost. I have to tie up a few loose ends at the prosecutor’s office, so I’ll head over there when we’re done.“ His grin was rueful. „I’ve been under so long, it’ll be an adjustment, walking in the front door of the SA’s office, introducing myself as a detective again.“ Abe sobered. „Do I get a desk?“ he asked and saw the pain that flashed in Mitchell’s eyes.
She swallowed hard. „Yeah. I still have to clean it out, but – “
„It’s okay,“ Abe interrupted. „I can do that.“