J. Robb - Seduction In Death

"Yes, sir."

"Detective Renfrew is here with his captain. He's considering filing a formal complaint re your conduct in the Theodore McNamara investigation, of which he is primary of record. In hopes to avoid any such action, I've asked you to come here so that the matter can be discussed."

There was a dull roar inside her head, a low burn deep in her gut. "Let him file."

"Lieutenant, neither I nor this department have a desire to wade through the mess of a complaint if it can be avoided."

"I don't give a damn what you or the department wants." Her tone bit and had something unidentifiable flashing in Whitney's eyes. "You file your complaint, Renfrew. File it, and I'll finish you."

"I told you how it was." Renfrew bared his teeth. "Got no respect for the badge, no respect for fellow officers. She comes onto my crime scene throwing her weight around, pulling rank, undermining my investigation. Questioned my crime scene unit after I requested her to remove herself before she contaminated the scene. Goes behind my back to the ME getting data on a body that's not hers."

Whitney held up a hand to halt Renfrew's tirade. "Your response to this, Lieutenant?"

"You want my response to this? I'll give it to you." Funous, she yanked a disc out of her pocket, slapped it onto the desk. "There's my response to this. On record. You idiot," she said to Renfrew. "I was going to let it slide. That was my mistake. Nobody should let cops like you slide. You think the badge is some sort of protection for you? Some sort of hammer you can toss around? It's your fucking responsibility, your goddamn duty, not your cushion and not your weapon."

Hayes made a move to speak. Whitney silenced him by lifting a single finger.

"Don't you tell me about duty." Renfrew braced his hands on his thighs, leaned his body forward. "Everybody knows you're out for other cops, Dallas. You're in IAB's pocket. The rat squad's poster girl."

"I don't have to justify what I did about the One-two-eight to you. It seems you've forgotten cops were dying. Want their names, because I've got them in my head. I stood over them, Renfrew, you didn't. You want a piece of me over that, you should've taken it outside the department, off a homicide investigation. You want a shot at me, you don't take it over the dead we're supposed to stand up for. I asked you to reach out, I asked you to share information vital to both our investigations so we could do the damn job."

"My robbery-homicide hasn't been connected to your sex whacks. And you've got no business on my scene without authority. You've got no right recording on that scene, and anything in such a recording is bogus."

"You pompous, egotistical, ignorant fuckhead. You don't have a robbery-homicide. I've got one half of your murder team in the tank. I've got a full confession, on record, that includes the murder of Theodore McNamara."

Renfrew leaped out of his chair. "You go around me to bring my suspect into interview?"

"My suspect, brought in for questioning re my investigation, which as I told you, asshole, is connected with yours. If you hadn't been so busy taking the easy way, so tight-assed about cooperating, you'd have been part of the op that brought him in. Get out of my face, and get out of it now, or I'll take that badge you don't deserve and make you eat it."

"That's enough, Lieutenant."

"It's not enough." She whirled back to Whitney. "It's not enough. I just listened to a twenty-two-year-old boy tell me how he and his sick friend were bored and made up a game. A dollar a point, a goddamn dollar a point for the one who bagged the most women in the most inventive ways. They drugged them, raped them, killed them, for the satisfaction of being the top stud. And when McNamara realized what his grandson and his playmate were doing, when he confronted them, they bashed his brains in, kept him alive with a stimulant, stripped him naked, bashed him again, and tossed him in the river where he had the bad luck to be assigned to this disgrace.

"Three people are dead, and one's in the hospital fighting to come back. Because one cop decides to take a personal dislike to another, there might have been more. So it's not enough. It's never going to be enough."

"You think you can hang your screwups on me," Renfrew began.

"Stand down, Detective." Hayes got slowly to his feet.

"Captain – "

"I said stand down. Now. There will be no complaint filed from my house. If Lieutenant Dallas wishes to file – "

"I have no wish to file."

Hayes inclined his head. "Then you're a better man than I. I'd like to request a copy of that disc, Commander."

"Request granted."

"I'll consider the contents of the recording and take such actions as are deemed appropriate. Open your mouth, Renfrew, and I'll be filing myself. I want you to step outside. That's an order."

The insult went deep enough to have him vibrating. "Yes, sir, but under protest."

"So noted." Hayes waited until the door slammed. "My apologies, Commander Whitney, for bringing this mess to your door, and for the unbecoming behavior of my officer."

"Your officer needs discipline, Captain."

"He needs a kick in the ass, sir, and I can promise you he'll get one. My apologies to you as well, Lieutenant."

"Unnecessary, Captain."

"That's the first thing you've said I disagree with since you walked in. Renfrew is a problem child, but he is, for the moment, my problem child. I run a clean house, Lieutenant, and take responsibility for any untidiness that works its way in. Thank you for your time, Commander."

He started for the door, paused, and turned. "Lieutenant, Sergeant Clooney and I rookied together. I went to see him after the events of last May came to light. He said you were an untarnished badge and he was grateful you were the one to bring him in. I don't know if that makes any difference to you, but it did to him."

He nodded again, stepped out, and closed the door quietly at his back.

When they were alone, Whitney rose and walked to his AutoChef. "Coffee, Lieutenant?"

"No, sir. Thank you."

"Sit down, Dallas."

"Commander, I apologize for my disrespect and insubordination. My behavior was – "

"Impressive," Whitney interrupted. "Don't spoil it by remembering who's in charge in this room now."

She winced and searched for something to say. "I have no excuse."

"I didn't ask for one." He brought his coffee back to his desk. "But if I required one I might start by asking how much sleep you got last night."

"I don't – "

"Answer the question."

"A couple."

"And the night before?"

"I don't… I can't say."

"I told you to sit down," he reminded her. "Shall I make it an order?"

She sat.

"I've never been a witness to you dressing down an officer – heard rumors," he added. "Now I can safely say you've earned your rep. You did what had to be done with Clooney and the One-twenty-eight. That doesn't mean you won't take flak for it."

"Understood, sir."

He studied her face, and because he could see hints of fatigue, grief, anger, knew she was running thin. "The badge doesn't make the man, Eve, it's the other way around."

She blinked, off balance by his use of her first name. "Yes, sir. I know."

"You're high-profile, professionally and personally. That kind of exposure and shine causes jealousy and resentment in certain types. Renfrew's a prime example."

"He doesn't concern me, personally, Commander."

"Glad to hear it. You have Kevin Morano's confession."

"Yes, sir." She started to rise, to give her oral, but Whitney gestured her back down.

"I don't require a formal report at this time. I got the gist from your rant. Has the warrant for Lucias Dunwood been issued?"

"Requested. It should be waiting for me in my office."