“Yeah, but he doesn’t want me around right now. Harry, please?”
He turns back around and sighs. I wait in anticipation for a second before he says, “Fine.”
“Thank you.”
If I can’t stand my first home, then there’s always my second.
***
The squad room is usually quiet on weekends. There’s the odd spousal murder, but regular homicide usually handles those, not Priority Homicide. Today, we’re not so lucky. Phones ring off the hook. Officers race in and out with eyewitnesses and staff from the party last night. I even recognize a few employees of Pendergast, taken away from their restful weekends to be grilled because they knew Justin would be out of town. A harried Shannon has been in and out twice. The poor woman isn’t paid enough to juggle the police and the entire Pendergast Industries. There is a big Christmas bonus in her future.
Me, I spent the first half an hour on my incident report, an hour calming down Uncle Ray, Aunt Emily, and Veronica after burly men with guns showed up at their doors and wouldn’t go away, and then another hour reviewing security footage from the party last night. I’ve started with the entrance to the ballroom where the invitations were checked. Shannon, on her last trip here, brought me a guest list, so if I recognize a person on the tape, I check their name off. Those who got invitations but didn’t show might have given theirs to Ryder. Straw grasping I know, but at this point it’s all I have.
Mirabelle walks in with a cup of coffee for me. People keep bringing me things. Kowalski brought me two donuts. Cam’s wife Tawny came with a hug and cookies. Everyone’s being so nice it’s starting to freak me out. “How’s it going?” Mirabelle asks. “Any luck?”
“No. How about you guys?”
“Bubkus, and Harry’s getting reamed a new one by the mayor and commish.”
“That’s constructive.” I turn back to the screen. “My shadows still out there?”
I was here about an hour when two hulking men in dark suits and guns arrived. Justin sent bodyguards to the station. They flanked me at my desk. They followed me into the bathroom, checking the stalls before they’d let me alone. Now, they’re at the door like gargoyles. “They made me show my badge before I could come in. They’re hardcore.”
“Yeah, I feel safer already.” On the screen Tasha Stone and her girlfriend Melina stroll into the party.
“Do you really think he’s going to…you know…”
“Melt me like cheese? Hell if I know.” Liz Theron and Byron Blake. When did they start dating?
“Are you scared?”
“I’m not an idiot, Mirabelle. I’m scared shitless.”
He pats my shoulder. “I’m sorry about your friend. If you need anything…”
I squeeze his hand and he smiles down at me. “Thanks. Appreciate it.”
“We’ll catch him.” He’s the ninth person to say that to me. He walks out, leaving me to my task. My cell phone buzzes with yet another call that I ignore. There’s only one person I want to talk to, and he’s asleep according to Lucy. When it stops, I check the number. I don’t recognize it. I do have twenty messages. The only one I plan to return is Grace’s. She—
Wait. On the screen, a dark haired man the right height and weight walks up to the guards behind Rose and Leo Giffin. As the couple bicker per usual, the man looks up at the camera. My heart clenches in my chest. It’s him. The footage is grainy, but I know it’s him. Especially after the huge grin forms on his face and he waves at the camera. The same wave he gave me the night on the bridge. The Giffins walk in and Ryder lowers his head again, handing an invitation to the guard before stepping into the ballroom. “Motherfucker.”
I back-up the DVD and watch it again. After making note of the timestamp, I switch over to the hotel lobby footage five minutes prior to his arrival. Sure enough the same man strides into the lobby from the elevators, under the rope, and toward the ballroom right behind the Giffins. Almost vibrating with excitement, I eject the DVD and rush out of the media room.
My guards, Geoff and Bryan, follow me into the bullpen, scanning the area for potential threats. I give it two more hours before they drive me batshit crazy. Harry’s door is closed and the blinds are drawn, so I knock. That isn’t to say I wait for an invitation.
Harry is behind his desk looking exhausted while Mayor Miracle, Commissioner Craven, and U.S. Marshal Frank Napier wear angry faces. The Marshals have jurisdiction over escaped convicts, but since Justice works for them, they waited until last night to try and kick us off the case. The murders changed things, so we’re now part of a unified Federal task force since the department knows the area and the players. The men’s expressions switch into neutral when I step in. “Sorry to disturb you,” I say.