“What Biddle and Garvey did was solid, old-fashioned police work,” Shaw said. “No flash, no high tech, just diligence and shoe leather.”
“A dying art,” Duncan said.
Shaw beckoned them into his office and closed the door behind them. “I wish I could say the same about your investigation of the fetal abduction.”
His comment confused Eve. “The crime is extraordinarily rare and the case wasn’t nearly as straightforward as a hit-and-run.”
The captain walked around his desk and took a seat behind it. “It would have been if you’d thoroughly searched Anna McCaig’s house the first time.”
Duncan stepped up to Shaw’s desk. “I could have searched it a thousand times and wouldn’t have made the deduction that Eve did today.”
“Then perhaps it’s a good thing you’re retiring.”
Eve moved up to Duncan’s side. “That’s a cheap shot.”
“Cheap is not a word that applies to this investigation,” Shaw said. “We kept a man parked outside McCaig’s house for twenty-four hours and executed a totally unnecessary search of another home. That’s a huge amount of wasted man-hours, resources, and money. We do operate on a budget, you know. Next time you do a search, I expect you to be more thorough and detail oriented.”
“That’s a load of horseshit,” Duncan said.
“What did you say?”
“What matters is that we caught the killer and she made a full confession, an outcome that wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for Eve seeing things that a veteran homicide detective and an entire crew of forensic investigators with tens of thousands of hours of combined experience completely missed. So how about congratulating her for a job well done instead of bitching that the job wasn’t easy?”
Shaw stood up and glowered at Duncan. “I could suspend you right now for insubordination.”
“I could also walk outside, go to that podium, and tell the press about this nightmare case, how Eve solved it in two days without sleeping, and that your reaction was ‘What took you so fucking long?’ How do you think that’ll play?”
Duncan didn’t wait for Shaw’s answer. Instead, he simply walked out, leaving the door open behind him. Eve looked at the captain, who waved her away, too.
“Get out of here,” he said. “I want your reports on my desk in an hour.”
Eve caught up with Duncan at the door to the squad room.
“I can fight my own battles,” she said. “You didn’t have to say that.”
“You didn’t have to tell him he took a cheap shot, which I deserved, by the way.”
“No, you didn’t. I just got lucky.”
Duncan leaned against the wall and looked at her. “It isn’t luck, Eve. It’s instinct. You’re a natural at this. What you haven’t learned yet is how to do it without making enemies.”
Eve tilted her head toward Shaw’s office. “Like what you just did?”
“I’m at the end of my career, you’re at the beginning. If you want to make it as long as I have, you have to stop antagonizing everybody you work with and take better care of yourself. You look terrible.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“No, I mean it. You need to get some sleep.”
“I will,” she said. “Right after we file our reports.”
They went to their desks, divvied up the paperwork, and got to it.
An hour later, ten minutes past Shaw’s hastily issued deadline, Eve was still finishing up her work when a uniformed deputy approached her.
“Eve Ronin?” he asked.
She looked up at him. He was squat, in his thirties, with a buzz cut and a weight lifter’s body. His name tag read PRICE. “Yes? What can I do for you?”
Price handed her an envelope. “This is for you.”
She took it. “What is it?”
“Consider yourself served,” he said, gave her the finger, and walked out.
Eve opened the envelope and pulled out the papers inside. It was a wrongful death lawsuit, filed by the widow of the deputy who’d killed himself during the course of her last investigation, the one prior to the home invasion case.
She’d been expecting the lawsuit, but even so, it still felt like a punch in the stomach. Duncan glanced over at her.
“Bad news?”
“I’m being sued for $10 million.”
“Is that all?” he said. “I figured it would be at least twice as much. Is the department named in the suit as well?”