Jan Burke - Nine

Just as they reached Captain Nelson’s door, Alex’s phone rang and he saw Ciara’s name on the caller ID display. “Meet you inside,” he said to Hogan, who didn’t seem pleased but moved on.

“Alex? God…a morning…having.” There was a static hum between words. He could hear traffic in the background.

“We’ve got a bad connection, Ciara.”

“Sorry…know…Hogan wants?”

“A meeting with Nelson.”

“Shit.”

“Well, that came through nice and clear. Must have reached a new cell. What’s going on?”

There was a long silence, and for a moment, he thought he might have lost the connection. But then, in a strained voice, she said, “Laney had some kind of seizure last night.”

He thought she might be crying. Fearing the answer, he asked, “Is she okay?”

She seemed to regain her composure. “I think so, but I want to be sure. She hasn’t had one in over two years, so I’m worried. I’m taking her to the doctor now-he promised to see her right away. Can you cover for me there?”

“I’ll do what I can. Mind if I tell them you’ve had a family emergency?”

She hesitated, then said, “No, I guess not. I probably should have told them about my situation a long time ago, but…” Again, she seemed to struggle for control. After a moment, she said, “I just didn’t want to seem like a whiner, you know what I mean?”

“They aren’t as heartless a bunch of SOBs as they pretend to be around here, Ciara. Call me and let me know how she’s doing, okay?”

“Thanks, Alex.”

When he walked into Nelson’s office, though, there was a pale, thin stranger seated in the chair next to Lieutenant Hogan. He was a man of medium height with sandy hair and a long head that made his face a nearly perfect oval. Within that oval his features were plain, with the exception of a pair of eyebrows that sat bristling and white above blue eyes. He was dressed in a cheap suit that didn’t hang well on his bony shoulders. He was sitting with his arms folded over his chest, and his untamed brows were drawn together as he studied Alex with apparent disfavor.

“Alex,” Captain Nelson said, “this is Agent Hayden Moore of the FBI. He’s replacing David Hamilton on the task force.” Listening to Nelson’s tone, watching his expression, Alex heard the unspoken message: Don’t ask.

Alex noticed that Moore kept his arms folded, so he didn’t extend his own hand.

“I understand the suspects have taken themselves out of commission,” Moore said. “And that this is all basically wrapped up. Until we were brought in and could provide you with that New Mexico connection, you seem to have always been more than a few steps behind them-so they’ve probably saved us all an inordinate amount of trouble and expense.”

Alex said, “We’re still not sure-”

“Good point, Alex,” Nelson interrupted. “We’re still not sure how much of your fugitives list is dead, but if they’ve left them in our jurisdiction, I guess that will be our work, not yours.”

Moore’s face settled back into a frown.

“So,” Nelson said, standing and extending his hand in a clear signal that the meeting was over, “we want to thank the FBI for their cooperation and help, and we’ll make sure any reports are sent to your attention. Please give our best regards to Agent Hamilton. We enjoyed working with him.”

Moore turned a pink color. Whether it was due to the fact that he was getting the bum’s rush or the captain’s slight emphasis on the word him, Alex didn’t know.

“Hold on!” he said. “If anyone else on that fugitives list shows up murdered-”

“Detective Brandon will notify you immediately. Stay a moment, please, Alex. Dan, on the way out, will you please make sure Agent Moore is given copies of the lab’s reports from Catalina and Lakewood? I don’t think we had enough time to get those to Agent Hamilton.”

Moore gave in at that point and left with the lieutenant.

Nelson invited Alex to take a seat, then said, “We were informed this morning that Agent Hamilton has taken a leave of absence-for reasons unspecified. Back to our usual cordial relations with the FBI-they aren’t telling us anything. But judging from the amount of bluster I got off of Moore this morning, something about Hamilton’s leave obviously makes them extremely uncomfortable. How well did you get to know him?”

“Not all that well. He’s from here originally, went to USC, and probably has money that isn’t coming from his FBI paycheck.”

“On the take?”

“I doubt it. He was too open about it-wore expensive clothing, drove a Jag.” He paused, then added, “He spent more time with Ciara. They got along well. If he confided anything to anyone in the department, it was to her.”

“Where is Ciara this morning?”

Alex hesitated. Even though Ciara had agreed that the captain should be told about Laney, he felt that it was her place, not his, to do so. Thinking of her fear of being pitied, though, he decided that perhaps it would be easier on both Ciara and the captain if he did the telling. And much better to face the awkwardness of talking about Ciara’s difficulties, than to have Nelson think she was shirking her duties or having problems with Alex. So he told the captain about Ciara’s sister and Ciara’s dedication to her.

Nelson considered this in silence for a time, then said, “I wish I had known this a year or two ago. I should have suspected there was some stress on her from outside the job. But other than the problems she had in getting along with her partners, she’s been one of the best we’ve had. Her clearance rate is above average. I had no idea that she was also coping with these personal pressures all this time.”

“For the most part, I don’t think she sees it as pressure. I think it demands a lot of her energy, but I don’t think she sees her care of Laney as a burden. There are just going to be times, like this morning, when she might need the department to cut her a little slack. She was reluctant to have me mention it even then.”

“I’ll talk to her more about it when she comes in. Are you going to be able to handle winding this up if she ends up needing a few days off?”

“I’m not so sure it is winding up.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not sure all the participants ended up dead on Mulholland Highway last night. I think we need to do a lot more work before we know with any certainty that those two were the only ones involved. And I hope the department will be careful not to book a band for the victory dance just yet.”

“Temper our remarks to the public, you mean?” Nelson said. “Sheriff Dwyer is anxious to issue a statement, you know.”

“What will it cost us to be cautious?”

“Public confidence.”

“Think we’ll recover that confidence if he announces this is all over and it’s not?”

“True…”

“Think of it this way. If any of the remaining fugitives are still alive, they must feel they are in danger, and may surrender, believing themselves safer with us than in the hands of the so-called Exterminators.”

“That reporter has a lot to answer for, doesn’t she?”

Alex shrugged. “If Ontora hadn’t made them out to be heroes, someone else would have.”

“Hmm. I suppose so. I’ll talk to the sheriff. What do you have in mind for the task force now?”

“We need to find out more about the two men in the Maserati-Whitfield and Addison. We need the lab to take a careful look at that suicide scene, because not everything adds up. I’m not ready to definitely say it was suicide. Even if it is what it appears to be, how are the two of them connected to each other? Where did they meet, how did they plan this? Can we link them to the crime scenes? Who paid to have that special cell built in Del Aire? What was Whitfield doing in New Mexico?”