NYPD Red 2(13)

“The hell you will. Nobody at Red gave a rat’s ass about the first three victims, but now that Muriel Sykes is involved, the mayor jumps in and moves the case to the top of the dog pile. What’s your job? Get as much dirt on Parker-Steele as possible so he can sandbag Sykes’s campaign?”

“This isn’t about politics,” Kylie said. “It’s about finding a serial killer.”

“What the hell do you think we’ve been doing for the past four months?”

“Funny, that’s what the mayor said. ‘What the hell have those two cops been doing for the past four months?’ If you don’t like his decision, file a grievance with the department.”

Donovan looked at his partner. Clearly they didn’t want to be second string, but they had zero leverage, and Kylie knew it. Then he looked at me as though maybe I could talk some sense into Kylie. I didn’t blink.

“Make up your mind, boys,” she said. “You on board?”

“Hey, if they don’t want it,” Casey said, “me and Bell would be happy to—”

“Back off,” Donovan said. “It’s been our case since day one, and we’re not being squeezed out because of some political bullshit. We’re staying.”

“You can start by getting the files over to us at the One Nine in twenty minutes,” Kylie said, handing him her card. “I’ll be sure to tell the mayor how cooperative you’ve been.”

My two puppies looked as if someone had just taken their favorite squeeze toy. “Does that mean you won’t be needing us?” Bell said.

“You guys were a big help, and we appreciate it,” I said.

“But these guys are in, and we’re out,” Bell said.

I nodded. Kylie, who always likes to get in the last word, offered up two.

“For now.”





Chapter 13



“Did you get all the nasty out of your system?” I asked Kylie after the two teams went their separate ways.

“I always have a reserve tank,” she said.

“It sucks to have to trade off two gung ho cops for two with brooms up their asses,” I said.

“Zach, we could have kept all four of them,” Kylie said. “A case like this, we have a blank check. Hell, we could pull together a task force of fifty people and spend all our time bogged down in our own bureaucracy. The only thing this case really needs is you and me doing what we do best. I asked Donovan and Boyle to stick around because they have a serious learning curve. But as soon as we get up to speed, I will tap back into my tank of nasty and tell them to go play in traffic.”

We spent another hour at the crime scene. Chuck Dryden’s people were still combing the area, and except for the shopping cart, nothing new turned up. We drove back to the office.

There’s no Red precinct. Like a lot of elite units, we’re housed in an existing precinct—in our case, the 19th on East 67th Street between Third and Lexington Avenues. The One Nine is home to more than two hundred uniforms and dozens of detectives, but it’s still big enough for Red to set up shop on the third floor, away from the day-to-day madness that goes on downstairs.

But we still have to walk through the tumult on our way upstairs. And you can’t get anywhere without being seen by Bob McGrath, the desk sergeant.

“Thanks for the wheels, Sarge,” Kylie said.

“Anytime, Detective,” McGrath said. “Hang on a sec. I’ve got something else for you.”

He reached under his desk and pulled out a cardboard file box. “This was just delivered. It’s your Hazmat files.”

I picked it up. It weighed next to nothing.

“Is that all?” I said. “Just the one?”

“That’s what they gave me. That’s what I signed for,” he said. “Want to see the paperwork?”

“No, Sarge, it’s just that we expected more.”

“Sorry to disappoint you. Some cases we get ten, twenty boxes, and the detectives start moaning that they’ll never get through it all. This load’s a lot lighter. I thought you’d be happy.”

“You know how it is with detectives,” I said. “We’re never happy.”

I carried the box to our office, and Kylie opened it.

“This is four months’ worth of investigation?” she said. “There are only four folders. Alex Kang, Sebastian Catt, Antoine Tinsdale, and Donald Li.”

“I recognize the first three names. They’re victims,” I said. “Who’s Li?”

Kylie flipped through his file. “He has a master’s in social work. He’s a detective working gangs in Chinatown. Donovan and Boyle asked him to come up with a profile of the killer.”