Неизвестный - 4. Justice In The Shadows

“What about a wire?” Watts interjected. “It wouldn’t hurt to have this guy on tape setting up the job .”

“Not a bad idea.” Rebecca looked Sandy. “What do you think?”

Sandy shrugged. “Depends on how big it is, and where I need to put it.” Watts sniggered, and she gave him a cutting look. “I don’t, you know, wear a whole lot of clothes most of the time. It would look funny if I was all of a sudden covered up.”

Mitchell couldn’t stand it any longer. “What’s the point of her wearing a wire if we can’t monitor what’s going on? There’s no way anyone is going to be able to cover this meet.” She finally looked at Sandy. “You’ll be out there on your own.”

“Officer,” Rebecca said quietly. She wasn’t entirely happy with the idea herself, but Officer Mitchell appeared to be having major difficulties with Sandy’s new role. Before the young officer could say something that Rebecca would not be able to overlook, she softly said, “This is a command decision. If you’re having problems working on this team, I can have you reassigned.”

“No, ma’am,” Mitchell said, biting off the words. “No problem.”

“Good.” Rebecca worked her shoulders to ease some of the tension, then she looked at Sandy. “If Trudy or anyone else contacts you, I want you to at least try to postpone the meet until you can call me. Watts will fit you out with a wire—”

“Uh-uh. No freakin’ way is he doing it.”

“Aw, I can’t believe you’d say no to a little fun.” Watts grinned. “Believe me, you’d like it.”

“I don’t think your heart could take it.”

“As long as I live long enough to slip it up—”

“Shut up, Watts.” Mitchell said the words quietly, calmly, as she turned in her seat to face him.

He stared at her in surprise. There was something cold and lethal in her expression.

“Dell—” Sandy’s voice was soft, gentle.

“Mitchell, you’re dismissed. Wait in the other room.” Rebecca didn’t even spare a glance in Mitchell’s direction as Mitchell stood abruptly and walked from the room.

“Let’s go, officer.” Rebecca turned and headed for the elevator.

Mitchell rose from the chair where she had been sitting motionless for thirty interminable minutes and followed into the elevator without a word. When they reached streetside, Rebecca turned right and began walking toward the river. Mitchell fell into step.

“We have a problem,” Rebecca said flatly as they crossed Front Street at Market.

Mitchell said nothing. She knew what was coming. Another disciplinary action. And this time it would mean the end of her career.

“What’s going on with you and Sandy?”

“I’m in love with her.” Mitchell couldn’t see any point in lying. Not any longer.

“That’s just terrific.” Rebecca sighed. Silently, she led the way onto the concrete footbridge which arched over Delaware Avenue to Penn’s Landing, climbed to the top, and stopped. “What if I ordered you to choose between Sandy and the job?”

“I’d quit.”

“Christ,” Rebecca muttered. She turned her back to the wall, leaned a hip against the stone, and faced Mitchell. “You’ve got the makings of an exemplary officer in almost every way—you’re intelligent, dedicated, trustworthy.” She didn’t add brave, but she believed it.

“Thank you, sergeant.”

“Don’t thank me. I’m not done yet.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“But you’ve got a very serious weakness, Officer Mitchell. Your temper. You were insubordinate back there, and it’s not the first time. I’ve let it slide before, but I can’t do that now.”

“I understand, ma’am.” Jesus, just tell me I’m out. Just say it.

“I don’t think you do.” Rebecca watched Mitchell carefully. “Ordinarily, a little bit of temper isn’t a bad thing. You need that fire burning inside to face danger without flinching. Do you understand?”

Mitchell thought about going down the alley in the dark, in the rain, alone, barely able to see an inch in front of her face. Knowing that whoever was waiting was probably bigger, probably stronger, and probably armed. But she’d heard a woman scream, and that had made her angry. It was the anger as much as her sense of duty that had carried her into that alley. Softly, she answered, “Yes, ma’am. I understand.”

“But a fire you can’t control will eat you up, and something’s eating you up now.”

Mitchell said nothing. Her insides rolled, and for a minute, she feared she might vomit.

“You need to take yourself off the team if you can’t deal with what Sandy is doing.”

“Aren’t I off already?” Mitchell looked at Rebecca, confusion in her eyes.

“That depends. I can’t tell you who to sleep with. I can’t tell you who to love.” Rebecca looked past Mitchell to a ship that slowly made its way into the port of Philadelphia. She thought about Catherine, and how having Catherine in her life had made her a better cop because her own fires consumed less of her now. “I can tell you that if you can’t give her up, you’re going to have to learn to live with who she is.” Rebecca turned her gaze back to Mitchell’s face. “And what she does.”

“I’m trying.”

“Not hard enough.”

Mitchell nodded.

“You need to sort this out, in a hurry. I can’t order you to, but I think maybe you need to talk to Dr. Rawlings.”

“I want to be on this team more than anything in my life, except being with Sa—”

“I got that the first time, Mitchell,” Rebecca snapped. “Stop telling me things I don’t want to know about.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Mitchell straightened. “I’ll talk to Dr. Rawlings.”

“Your business.” Rebecca held Mitchell’s eyes. “You lose it one more time and you’re gone. I’ll put it in your file, and they’ll bury you somewhere until you quit from sheer boredom.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Rebecca nodded and turned toward back toward Old City. “Let’s go. Jason says he has work for you.”

“Thank you, sergeant. I hope I—”

“Don’t thank me, Mitchell. Just get me a lead, will you?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m on it.”

At the corner of Front and Arch, Rebecca spied the thin blond in the short leather skirt, shiny black faux-motorcycle jacket, and calf high, stack-heeled boots lounging against a light pole. Her face betrayed nothing but ennui, but her eyes were alive and riveted on Mitchell’s face. Rebecca sighed and glanced sideways at Mitchell. The officer’s expression was just as nonchalant as that of the woman who watched her, but her gaze was hungry.

“Christ.” Rebecca pulled her keys from her blazer pocket and stopped by her car. “Five minutes, Mitchell, and then get your ass back upstairs.”

In a rare breach of protocol, Mitchell forgot to reply as she hurried over to Sandy. She barely heard the Vette revving in the background or the engine roar as Rebecca pulled away.

“Hi,” Mitchell said quietly, reaching for Sandy’s hand. Their fingers entwined and she held their joined hands between their bodies, out of sight of casual observers.

“You okay?” Sandy asked.

“Yeah.” Mitchell grinned sheepishly. “I’m missing a few pieces of my anatomy, but, yeah.”

“I’m sorry, Dell.” Sandy searched Mitchell’s eyes, looking for the real wounds. “I’m really sorry.”

“Why? It wasn’t your fault. I got hot upstairs and mouthed off to Watts. That’s what Frye was on me about.”

Sandy looked away, remembering the pain in her girlfriend’s eyes when Frye had come down on Mitchell at the briefing. She remembered, too, Frye’s warning about what any kind of relationship with Sandy could do to Mitchell’s career. “You know, rookie, I can’t afford to cross Frye on this deal. If hanging around with you is going to screw it up, maybe we better coo—”