J. Robb - Purity in Death

Still she had to stop for a moment, clear her throat. "My son was proud to be a police officer. He believed in what that stood for, respected it, and gave his best. They might have taken that from him as well as his life if not for you. If not for you, his captain, his commander, his fellow officers… that pride and respect might have been taken from him. Instead…"

She reached into a small black purse and took out her son's badge. "Instead, there's honor. I'll never forget it." She leaned forward now, her expression intense. "Stop them. You will stop them."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll stop them."

With a nod, Colleen leaned back again. "I've kept you long enough. I'm sure you have a great deal of work. I think I'd like to sit here in the light, for a little while."

Eve rose and went to the door. Then she turned and said what was on her mind. "Mrs. Halloway? He must have been awfully proud of you, too."

Again those lips curved, just a little. Again a single tear spilled down her cheek.

Eve slipped out and closed the door.

She was nearly to the stairs when Franco swooped up. Chang scurried in her wake like a pet dog. "We'll talk now."

When she headed for the privacy room, Eve caught her arm. "Mrs. Halloway's in there."

The impatience on Franco's face faded. Her one last glance at the door was full of sympathy. Then that faded as well as she strode down the hallway, pushed her way into another room.

It was some sort of office, manned at the moment by a young woman at a gleaming wooden breakfront that had been modeled into a workstation.

"I need this space," Franco snapped. "You'll have to leave."

Eve lifted her brows as the girl scrambled out. Franco was a woman who went where she wanted when she wanted. Eve admired the trait.

When Chang closed the door behind them, Franco launched into the attack. "You were instructed to use the official statement when responding to the media. We can't waste time and resources running along behind you and clearing up the mess."

"Then you'd better try to keep up. I got a heads up minutes before the latest statement from Purity was to be aired. I responded to said statement as I deemed appropriate."

"It's not your place to deem what is an appropriate response to the media." This came from Chang, in clipped tones. "It's my job to tell you what's appropriate in this area."

"The last time I looked I don't answer to you, and should that day ever come, I'll retire."

"Chief Tibble ordered you to cooperate," he reminded her. "Yet you refuse to accept the bookings that were arranged for maximum spin and effect. And now you issue your own statement without clearance. A statement that speaks not just for you, Lieutenant, but for the department. This is not acceptable."

"If the chief or my commander determines I've done or said the unacceptable, then they can dress me down, Chang. You can't."

She took a step toward him, was darkly pleased to see him take one back. "Don't ever try to tell me how to do my job."

"You've never had any respect for me or my position."

Eve angled her head. "And your point is?"

"We'll see what Chief Tibble has to say about this."

"Run along and tattle, you little weasel. And let the grown-ups finish talking." She turned back to Franco, who'd said nothing during the exchange. "You got something else to say to me?"

"Yes, actually. Why don't you give us a minute here, Chang? We'll discuss the rest of this in my office in…" She checked the time. "Thirty minutes."

He went out, giving the door a sulky little slam.

"Do you try to irritate people, Dallas, or is it just an innate skill?"

"I guess it's the second, because it comes real easy. Especially with pissants like Chang."

"If I tell you I agree that Chang is an annoying, self-satisfied, and boring pissant-a statement I will vehemently deny making if repeated-can we table some of the hostility?"

"Why do you use him then?"

"Because he's good. He's very, very good. If I had to like everyone I worked with or who worked for me, I sure as hell wouldn't be in politics. Now, issue one, your statement this morning. Chang feels, and I agree-as does the mayor-that your use of Detective Halloway's death was ill advised."

"My use? Just one damn minute.They used him, shirking responsibility for his death. I responded and stuck the responsibility right back up their ass."

"And I understand the instinct that prompted you to do so. For God's sake, Dallas, do you think I function without a heartbeat? I don't. And that heart breaks for that woman down the hall. Damn it. She's lost her son. I have a son. He's ten. I can't imagine having to say good-bye to him the way Colleen Halloway is saying good-bye today."

"It seems to me it would be harder if people were allowed to think her son died for nothing."

"Didn't he?" Franco retorted, then shook her head. "Oh, I know how you cops think. On the job. I won't argue with you because I don't understand that either. But the point is that the more often his name is said, the more he's made the story, the harder it is to focus the media and the public on the message we want to send. Whatever you might think," she added as she turned back.

"I know more about this than you and Chang know.The second point is no statement should have been made without clearance."

"You won't box me in that way. I'm no media hound, but if and when I feel using it helps my investigation, I'll use it."

"Yet you toss back the bookings Chang arranged, programming where we'd have some control."

"I'm not sitting in some studio parroting departmental or mayoral approved responses and statements when my time and energies are required in a priority investigation. The fact is, I'm never doing it."

"Yes, so your commander has made clear."

"Then what's the problem?"

"Had to take a shot." Franco spread her hands. "We could use the airtime. The other matter I have to discuss with you is, potentially, a great deal more serious. It's already come to the mayor's ear that you questioned the Dukes this morning in the course of your investigation. A family who also lost their son recently, and who are protected by sealed files."

"He didn't waste any time. The information on the Dukes came into my hands. The connection to two of the victims, as well as Donald Dukes's profession, led me to believe an informal interview was warranted. Are you going to try to tell me how to do my job now?"

"Oh for Christ's sake." Franco threw up her hands. "Why do you insist on behaving as if we're on opposite sides."

"It feels that way."

"Do you know what will happen if Donald Dukes goes to the media? If he talks about being harassed in his own home by the primary in this already hot-button situation? Their son was hooked on illegals by Cogburn-"

"There's no evidence to support Cogburn was his first dealer."

"It doesn'tmatter if there's evidence," Franco fired back. "This is what would be said. Cogburn hooked an innocent, vulnerable twelve-year-old boy, from a good, solid, churchgoing family. The police failed to make a case. Later, this boy-now troubled, now recalcitrant due to his addiction- falls into the hands of a pedophile. Chadwick Fitzhugh beats and rapes young Devin, now a tender fourteen. The family is shattered, the boy is traumatized, andagain the police fail to make a case."

"That's not the way it happened."

"That's the way it'll be presented, reported, discussed should they go public. Truth, pieces of the truth, outright lies, it doesn't matter once it's on the air. A picture will be painted, then you'll walk into it, questioning this damaged, grieving family who tried to do the right thing, who put their faith and their son's welfare into the hands of the system only to be failed in the most horrible way. You attempt to implicate them in a homicide investigation. You accuse them of being members of a group you've publicly called terrorists. And you do this in their home. Don't you see how this will play?"