Kovacliska - Dust To Dust Part 8

"Stay right here. Don't get up. Don't move." "But I didn't do it," he whined.

"Say that again and I'll f.u.c.king shoot you. Shut up!"

He started to cry as she turned away and went back to the victim. "Ma'am, are you all right?" she asked. A stupid question meant simply to elicit a response. A moan, a groan, something, anything.

She squatted down beside the body and reached under the matted mess of white-blond hair to try to find a pulse in the throat. At first, she thought what she was looking at was the back of the skull-a b.l.o.o.d.y mess of caved-in bone without features.Then the victim drew a shallow, shuddering breath; a horrible, wet, sucking sound; and she saw bubbles in the blood coming from what must have been a mouth.

"Oh, Jesus:' she whispered, finding the weak, thready pulse with shaking fingertips. With her other hand, she carefully brushed the hair back. It was a wig, and it pulled free with little pressure, revealing short platinum hair streaked with blood leaking from a skull fracture. Ken Ibsen.

He lay on the ground like a discarded rag doll, limbs bent at odd angles. In one hand he clutched a sc.r.a.p of paper-a napkin. Liska slipped it from his twitching fingers and held it so that the faint light fell across it.

Doodling. Probably what he'd done while he'd waited for her to show up. Random words and little drawings. One phrase caught her eye: urongful death.

Med Student ran up, panting. "They're on the way."

Even as he said it, a siren sounded not too far in the distance.

"I brought a flashlight:'he said, and directed the beam on the face of the victim.

The flashlight hit the ground and bounced. Med Student turned and vomited, and began to reconsider medicine as a career.

T A M.

C H A P T E.

S H E F E LT H i m behind her before she looked. Awareness rose inside her like a floodtide, lapping at the back of her throat, threatening to spill out of her mouth in a scream. Fear stiffened the muscles of her back, making it difficult to turn around. She felt as if she were wearing a straitjacket.

He stood in the shadows of the living room, the moonlight coming through the windows making his form clear, yet she couldn't make out his features at all.

He didn't speak. He didn't move as long as she watched him. She wondered if he thought he could make himself invisible by being still. She had thought that when she was a child: YI can be still, they won't see me.

Conversely, she wondered if she pretended not to see him, if he might disappear.

She walked away, trying not to hurry, and went into the dining room. She didn't hear him follow. She should have heard his shoes on the hardwood floor, but she heard nothing. Still, when she looked over her shoulder, he was there.

He stood in the shadows of the hall, looking in.

She held her breath until it felt as if someone was strangling her. Then she realized with a jolt of raw panic that someone was. His large

hands closed around her throat from behind, fingers pressing against the

small, vital bones. She clawed at his hands and tried to jerk free. He pulledher back against him and tried to push her down to the floor. Adrenalinesurged through her, and she broke his grip suddenly, gasping air into herlungs. She looked over her shoulder then, as she started to run, and saw himclearly: Andy Fallon, his face purple and bloated, eyes dull, tongue cormingout of his mouth. And then she was awake. She had leapt up off the couch, becoming conscious asher feet hit the floor. She stumbled, cras.h.i.+ng into the antique steamer trunkthat served as a coffee table. She clawed at her throat, scratching herself asher fingers tore at the high zippered neck of the sweater she wore. The softcotton sweater she had put on because it made her feel coc.o.o.ned and safe. Shehad sweat through it.The tears came then, as she realized what had happened, as she thought of howmany times she had gone through this, and wondered if it would ever end. Shesank down to the floor on her knees and started to put her face in her hands,gasping as she touched the raw spots.She was so tired. Physically, mentally, emotionally. Tired from the lack ofsleep, and from the stress, and from the nightmares, and the guilt. G.o.d, allof it. For just a moment, she wondered what it might be like to have someone there tohold her up as she shouldered the burdens of her life. Foolish fantasy. Shewas meant to be alone whether or not that was what she wanted. That was the thing about fate: it didn't ask for your opinion, didn't consider what youmight want or need. And so she sat alone in the night, shaking from the strainand from the sweat now chilling on her skin. Trying not to cry because therewas no point in it. Crying was just a waste of energy she couldn't afford--oneof the few useful lessons her father had taught her.She closed her eyes and started the breathing exercise to slow her heart rateand calm her nerves. Unbidden came the memory of a strong hand on hershoulder, solid strength beside her. She could see Sam Kovac's dark eyeslooking at her reflection in the ladies' room mirror. She could feel hisconcern, hear it in his voice. For just a second she let herself imagine what.i.t might have been Eke to turn toward him and rest her head on his chest, andhave him put his arms around her.Kovac was a rock, an anchor. He seemed so grounded, she doubted anything couldknock him off balance. Not that she would ever find out. He was the last man she would allow to see inside her and try to tame the snakes in her head. Shewas destined to fight them alone, and she would. She had done so for a verylong time. It was just that tonight . . . tonight she felt so tired, and soalone.... She breathed a sigh and forced herself to her feet. She made the obligatorysearch of the downstairs rooms, walking through the silent house like azombie, not really seeing anything, din-ily aware that she was searching forsomething that couldn't be seen. She ended the search back in the living room,standing for a long time just staring at the wall of photographs she had takenover the years. Black-andwhite, landscapes and still lifes. Beautiful, empty,bleak, stark-A projection of the photographer's inner self, a therapist would say.Time slipped by unnoticed. She might have been standing there five minutes oran hour when the doorbell rang.The sound startled her so, she wondered if shehad gone back under into that place of waking dreams and was now being shockedback out of it, or if this was part of the next nightmare and she wasn'treally awake at an.The bell rang again. Heart pounding, she went to the door and looked outthrough the peephole. Kovac stood on her front step. Not sure that her mindhadn't conjured the image, she pulled the door open."Your light 's were on' " he said by way of explanation for being there.Savard stared at him. "I a.s.sumed you were up' " he said. "Was I wrong about that?"She touched her hair self-consciously, started to s.h.i.+eld the wound around her eye, but stopped. She glanced down to see that she was actually wearingclothes. "I ... ah ... fell asleep on the couch.""I'm sorry, then, if I got you up." "What do you want, Sergeant?"He s.h.i.+fted from foot to foot, his hands in his coat pockets, his shouldershunched." Getting in out of this cold would be a good start." Hugging herself.a.gainst the night air, Savard went back into thehall, leaving him to follow. She checked her reflection in the mirror abovethe hall table and was appalled. Dark circles, pale skin, hair limp and messy.She looked battered and lost. Haunted. She would rather he had caught hernaked, at least then he wouldn't have been paying enough attention to her faceto wonder at her mental state. D U S T T 0 D U S T 207 "I'm not keeping you from anything-like a significant other?" he askedbluntly.Not unless inner demons count, she thought."What are you doing here?" "I wasin the neighborhood."She caught his reflection in the mirror. He was looking at her, studying her,and she jerked around, the pain in her neck and shoulder making her wince."Plymouth is -out of your jurisdiction.""I'm off duty. I have friends out here.john Quinn.You know him?" "I know ofhim." "I had a couple of questions for him regarding your boy Andy. I'm still notconvinced he died alone or by choice. Could have been an accident:'heconceded. "But if it was an accident and he wasn't alone, then someone leftthe scene of a death, and Id wanna know who, cause they got something toanswer for, you know?"Savard smoothed one hand over the wrinkles sleep had pressed into her top. Shecouldn't quite keep her other hand from touchin9 her hair again. She hated him seeing her like this. Vulnerablethe word pulsedin her brain like a nerve that had been struck with a hammer. "What did Mr. Quinn have to say?" She couldn't seem to make herself lookdirectly at him. As if he couldn't really see what a mess she was if they hadno direct eye contact. P' I can be still, they won't see me.... "He had some thoughts," Kovac said, movin to stay in front ofher. "I don'talways take a lot of stock in that mindlitinter stuff.You know, sometimespeople do things just on account of they're rotten. Then again, sometimes aperson's past can haunt him ---- or her-to the point of driving him to dothings.""Profiling is a tool for hunting serial crimi,nals:'Savard said. "You're notdealing with a serial crirmi nal. You're not dealing with a criminal at all."4C The Fallon family might beg to differ, two of them being dead inside aweek," Kovac said. "Anyway, as I was leaving his house, I remembered you,Lieutenant. "With regards to?"At the funeral, I forgot to ask if you'd looked up that case file. Fallon'sinvestigation into the Curtis-Ogden thing.""Are you now going to try to tell me Ogden was Andy's secret208 T A M 0 A G gay lover, and that he's a potential serial killer? You're losing me,Sergeant.""I'm just trying to take in all the facts so I have as clear a picture aspossible. I learned a long time ago, if an investigator gets tunnel vision onone aspect of a case, he runs the risk of rmissing crucial pieces of thepuzzle. How can you know where everything fits if you can't see the bigpicture? So, did you look it up?"

She looked past the living room to her office, wanting to go in there and shutthe door behind her. "No. I didn't have a chance." Kovac moved into her line of vision again. "Could we sit down?You look like you need to, Lieutenant. No offense.""Asking you to sit down would imply I don't mind you staying for an indefiniteperiod of time," Savard pointed out. "I do mind."He shrugged off the insult. "Then you sit. I'll stand. You look a littlerocky."For the-what?-third ti e that day, he put hi hands on her, and1 lm is she allowed it. He guided her by the shoulders to the Windsor settee along thewall. She felt as small as a child, and fragile, and ineffectual. She couldhave just told him to leave, but there was that part of her that didn't wanthim to. Anger and frustration and shame coiled inside her with needs sherarely acknowledged having."You know, I looked for it at Andy's place," Kovac said. "I looked in hisoffice there for a duplicate file on the Curtis-Ogden thing. I wanted to seewhat hewas investigating, what his take on things might be, see if he'd beenthreatened, anything like that, anything that could give me some idea of hislife, his state of rmind. But there was no file, and his computer was gone. AnIBM ThinkPad. You know anything about that? Did he leave it in his officedowntown?" "I don't know. I don't think so. Maybe he left it in his car. Maybe he'd lost.i.t. Maybe it's in the shop. Maybe it had been stolen." "Maybe it was stolen bysomeone who didn't want something in itto be seen by someone like me." He picked up a small carved Santa figurinefrom the hall table and studied it. Savard sighed. "I'll check the file in the morning. Is that all, Sergeant?""No." He set the figurine aside and came toward her, leaning down. He tippedher chin up and looked in her eyes. "How are you feeling?"U T 0 I'm fteling my pulse in my throat. I'm feeling light-headed. I'm feelingvulnerable. G.o.d, there was that word again."I'm fine. I'm tired. Id like to go to bed."He traced a forefinger slowly in front of her eyes, the same as he had done inher office that morning. Across and back. Up and down. His left hand stillcupped her chin."No offense, IT," he said softly, "but for a beautiful woman, you look likeh.e.l.l." Savard arched a brow. "Gee, why would I take offense at that?"He didn't answer her. He was looking at the rug burn, taking in the lines ofher face ... still touching her chin.... His gaze lingered on her mouth. Herbreath caught in her throat."You are, you know," he whispered. "Beautiful."She turned her face away, the air shuddering from her lungs. "You should gonow, Sergeant.""I should," he admitted. "Before you see to it I get suspended for paying youa compliment. But I want one thing first."Sc.r.a.ping together what was left of her strength, Savard managed to put on theimperious mask that was her everyday game face. It didn't make Kovac back offan inch. "Call me Sam' " he said, one corner of his mouth crooking upward. "Just tohear how it sounds." I can't want this, she thought, fear tightening in a knot in her stomach. Ican't want him. I can't need him. "You should go now ... Sergeant Kovac."He did nothing for a moment, and she held her breath and tried without successto read his mind. Finally, his hand dropped away from her face. He stepped back and straightened."Call me,"he said."Ifyou come up with anything from that case file." She roseto her feet, feeling unsteady, and banded her arms across her chest. Kovacpaused at the door."Goodnight ... Amanda." He shrugged, the slight smile still pulling at hislips. "What's another suspension to an old horse Eke me?" Cold air rushed intothe hall as he let himself out. Savard locked the door behind him and leaned against it, thinking of the warmth of his fingersagainst her skin. Tears stung her eyes.She climbed the stairs slowly. The table lamp was already on in her bedroom,and would remain on all night. She changed into a nightgown210 T A M 0 A 0 and crawled into bed, took a drink from the gla.s.s on the nightstand, andwashed down a sleeping pill. Then she lay down carefully on her left side,hugging the spare pillow to her, and waited for sleep, eyes wide open, feelingso alone it was an ache in the very center of her being.Goodnight ... Sam....D U S T T 0 D U S T 211 C H A P T E L I S K A. W I S H E D I T was all a nightmare. All of it: that her informantwas a transvest.i.te in a coma, that she'd spent half the night freezing to thebone in a filthy alley, that Speed's car was in her drive and he was in thehouse, waiting.She parked at the curb, trying to remember the snow emergency rules,fatalistically certain her car would be mowed down by a city snowplow and shewould be fined, to add insult to injury. Screw it, she thought, climbing outof the car and trudging to the front door. At least she'd collect insuranceand get a new vehicle. A used Chevette, perhaps, considering where her careerwould be headed in the near future. The table lamp was on low and the television was showing an infornercial forTae-Bo. Billy Blanks offering self-esteem and spiritual enlightenment throughkickboxing. Speed and RJ. were asleep, side by side, in the recliner,unmistakably father and son. Their hair even stood up in the same places. RJ.was in Spiderman pajamas with feet. The Cartman hand puppet was tucked under one arm. Liska stood looking at them, hating the emotions the sight awakened in her.Longing, regret, need. How unfair to be hit with that tonight, on the heels ofeverything else that had happened.212 She pressed a hand to her mouth and fought the feelings as if they weredemons. d.a.m.n you. She didn't know if she had spoken the words or just thought them,didn't know if she was cursing her ex-husband or herself. Speed cracked an eyeopen and looked at her, then checked hisson. Slowly and carefully, he eased himself from the chair and covered R.J.with a throw from the couch. "Is it that bad?" he asked softly as he came toward her.He was asking about the moment, about the way she was looking at him, the wayshe felt about him being here. But taking a page from his book, Liska chose tointerpret the question the way she wanted, and applied it to the case. "Mydrag queen informant is lying in ICU with a face only Pica.s.so could love.According to two witnesses-one of whom was caught trying to steal valuablesoff the guy's bodyhe was attacked by ninjas with lead pipes.""Ninjas don't use lead pipes. Nunchuks, maybe.""Please don't be cute, Speed. I can't deal with it right now." "I thought youliked me cute. It's one of my better qualities." Liska Just looked away."Hey, come on. It can't be all that bad, you're still standing." "It's worsethan bad," she whispered.

"You want to talk about it?" Translation: Do you want to lean on me, confide in me, let me help carry theload? Yes, but I won't let myse!f"Nikki," he murmured, stepping too close. He touched her cheek with a warmhand, slid his fingers back through her short hair, and gathered her to himwith his other arm. "You don't always have to be the tough one.""Yes, I do.""You don't tonight," he murmured, his lips brus.h.i.+ng her temple. A shudderrippled through her as she fought the urge to melt against him, to let himhold her up."What's the worst part of it?" he asked.Knowing you'll let me down in the end. Fearing that maybe I'm wrong and youwouldn't, but I won'tgive you the chance to prove it because I'm tired of youhurting me.She sniffed back tears and said, "Thinking he ended up that way because Iwasn't there in time." D U S T T 0 D U S T 213 "The guy's a snitch, Nik. He got beat up because of that, not because of you.""But if I had been there "He would have got it some other time.""I don't know if he'll live. I don't know if he'll want to," she said. "Youshould have seen what they did to him, Speed. It was horrible." "Don't do thatto yourself, Nikki.You know better."A cop learned early on not to allow that kind of emotion. The road to madnesswas paved with guilt. Kovac had reminded her of the same when she had calledhim from the scene with news of Ibsen's a.s.sault. Still, it was hard not toplace the blame at her own feet. Ibsen had been there waiting for her.. "They must have shattered every bone in his face," she said. "Broke his arm,his collarbone, ribs, one knee. They a.s.saulted him a.n.a.lly with a pipe.""Jesus." She took a deep breath and made the confession that lay at the heartof it for her: "And the worst part of it is, I think they were cops."Speed went still. She could feel his heart beat beneath her hand. "G.o.d, Nikki,what are you into? Looking at other cops . . .""I don't want it to be true," she said. "I don't want any part of it. We'resupposed to be the good guys. I don't want to be the one to prove otherwise."The idea was so abhorrent to her, it felt like a virus in her blood, and sheshuddered against the intrusion. Speed tightened,his arms around her. Sheallowed it. Because it was the middle of the night, and she felt very alone.Because it would be only for a moment. Because the feel and the smell of himwere famidiar. Because when he left, she would have to carry all the weightherself "I hate it:'she whispered, knowing she meant more than the case. That shehated feeling needy, that she hated always having to be tough, that she hatedthe contradictions, that she hated the te-ars- that were burning her eyes andthe conflicts she felt at being in the arms of her ex-husband."Why do you think they were cops?" he asked as softly as a lover whisperingendearments. "That's why he was meeting me--to talk about a rotten cop."0 A G "Maybe it was a random hate crime. Drag queens are unpopular in certaincircles." She pulled away and gave him a look. "Yeah, I believe in that kind ofcoincidence, and in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny."She walked away from him to rearrange the blanket over her son, then went tothe television and turned it off. "Is this still about the dead IA guy?" Speed asked.

"Partly." She almost laughed. "It's about a closed murder with a convictedkiller, and a closed suicide-slash-accident. Strange that someone should bebeaten nearly to death over that, don't you think?" "Who are you looking at?""A uniform. No one you know," she said, then turned and looked at him with thescrutiny of a cop. He was in his stocking feet, in jeans that hung low on aflat belly, and a T-s.h.i.+rt that showed off an enviable physique. The cop in herresurfaced." Or maybe you do.You look like you've been pumping some ironlately. This guy's a serious lifter.""Does he come to the St. Paul station house to do it?" "You're working out atthe station like a common cop?" "It's free. I have enough obligations for mypaycheck.""Can't imagine what they are," Liska muttered. "I never see any evidence ofit." Speed opened his mouth to fire a retort, but Liska held up a hand to fend himoff. R.J. was right there. Asleep, but who was to say how deeply or whatsounds might penetrate his subconscious. She tried not to fight with Speed infront of the boys. She failed a lot, but she tried."Sorry," she said. "That was out of bounds. The fuse is a little shorttomight, you know.What I meant to say was, I know a lot of the cops from bothdepartments lift at that gym on University-Steele's. I thought you rmight haveseen this guy there."He just stood there for a moment, working up his hurt feelings. She could seeit in his face. R.J. did the same thing when he felt he'd been wronged. Shecould see him mentally reliving each slight, each sharp remark in order toreinforce his sense of affront. "I said I'm sorry," she rerminded him."You know, I'm trying here, Nikki:'he said, the wounded martyr. "I'm trying tohelp when I can with the boys. I told you Id come up with some cash soon-""I know-" U S T T 0 D U S T 215 I "But you just have to keep at it with the digs, don't you? Why is that,Nikki? Is it that you really hate me that much? Or is it because maybe you'reafraid you still have feelings for me?"Bull's-eye, she thought. "It's Just habit.""Break it," he said softly, his eyes locked on hers. He went to her, lifted ahand, and touched her cheek. "I care about you, Nikki. I'm not afraid to sayit, even if you are."He bent his head and touched his lips to hers, a soft kiss that lingered butdidn't press for more. Liska's heart seemed to press up against the base ofher throat. "Be careful, Nikki:'he said as he stepped back.Of the case or of you? she wanted to ask. Then she thought, Both.2ou make serious enemies when you turn on your own kind." 'If this guy is whatI think he is, he's not'my kind."'That was how she had to look at it, she thought, as Speed went to the frontentry, stepped into his hiking boots, and pulled on his coat. If Ogden was akiller, if he was the kind of am*mal who could beat a man, rape a man with apiece of pipe, then the fact that he carried a badge was the worst kind ofoffense. "What do you have on him? Anything solid?"She shook her head. "Hunches, feelings. This drag queen was supposed to havesomething to fill me in. I think the cop's a juicer. If nothing else, maybe Ican give him to the narcs"' she said, giving him a lopsided excuse for a smileas she went to the door. "If the guy's doing steroids, his temper Will be unpredictable:' he said."He's dangerous.""That's not exactly news to me. Anyway, thanks for watching the boys.And thanks for caring.""Thanks isn't what I'm after," he said, catching her off guard. She barely hadtime to register the look in his eyes before his arms were around her and hismouth was on hers. Not soft this time. Hot, hungry, demanding. Her lips feltbruised when he pulled away.He was out the door the next moment. She listened to the slam of a car door,the growl of a motor turning over. Only then did she touch two fingers to herlips."I need this like I need the plague," she muttered.She put a second throw over R.J., choosing not to disrupt his sleep, left thelight on low, and went to bed herself, with no real hopes of sleep or dreams.216 T A M IThe clock was glowing 3:19 when the phone rang. "h.e.l.lo?"The silence on the other end had the quality of a held breath. Or maybe theheld breath was hers.And then came a whisper that raised all the fine hairs on her arms. "Letsleeping dogs lie."D U S T T 0 D U S T 217 C H A P T E R.

TH E PHOTOGRAPHS ARE lyingona narrow worktable, a cone of yellow light s.h.i.+ning down on them from the desk lamp. The room is otherwise in darkness.The room is silent.

The photographs are in a neat row. Life exploding. Blood spray. Bone splinters. Still life. Lifeless. A study in destruction. A testimony to the fragility of the human body. Abstract.Violent. Sad and pathetic. Too easily accomplished.

A necessary evil, but still ... it should have been impossible.The concept should have so gone against the moral grain that execution would simply not have been possible.

Execution. The word brings a rush of remembered emotions. Regret, loathing, relief, excitement. Fear. Fear of what had been done, of the rush of excitement in that final instant. Fear that something human, something civilized, something vulnerable could be replaced ... or had been replaced long ago.

But then if that were true, sleep would have come easily instead of not at all.

218.

C H A P T E.

OBSERVATION: AN AUTOPSY is not agoodway to begin theday. The thought rolled around in Kovac's head as he settled into his desk chair, a cup of bad coffee in hand. Liska was nowhere to be seen. The office was momentarily quiet. He had managed to slip in more or less unnoticed, and was glad for it. He needed a few minutes to reflect, to regroup. He pulled out Mike Fallon's death-scene Polaroids and spread them out on top of the paperwork he had been neglecting the last few days.

A nagging unease moved around the edges of his awareness, undefined, barely formed, a shadow. He could have called the case a slam-dunk suicide, and it would have been over, pending the paperwork from the ME. Except for that feeling, and the fact that Neil Fallon was starting to show as many rotten layers as a,bad onion.

Kovac let his gaze wash over the pictures almost without focusing, hoping to see something he'd been missing. At the same time, hoping he would see nothing. The idea that Iron Mike had chosen to check himself out was definitely preferable to the alternative.

Viewed that way, he could almost think of the photographs as abstract art instead of pictures of a man he had known for twenty 219.

years. It was certainly easier to look at the pictures than it had been to

stand in on the autopsy and see a personal acquaintance sliced and diced.Maggie Stone, the Hennepin County ME, had performed the autopsy herselfDespite such eccentricities as carrying concealed weapons and changing haircolor every six months, Stone was the best.When she said it was so, it was so.Kovac had known her for years. They had the kind of rapport that allowed himto ask for favors, such as standing in on an old friend's autopsy at the crackof dawn. Stone hadn't blinked an eye. To someone who spent her life cuttingopen the dead to extract their internal organs and their secrets, nothing muchcame as a shock. And so Kovac had stood there in the autopsy suiteJust out of the way as Stoneand her a.s.sistant, Lars, moved around the stainless steel table, doing theirthing. A h.e.l.l of a way to kick off the morning.Liska came into the cubicle looking grim, no color in her cheeks, despite thefact she had come in from outside, where the temperature was struggling towardthe mid-teens. She said nothing as she put her purse in a drawer and slippedout of her coat. "How's your smitch?""Looks like he'll live. Sort of I just came from the hospital." "Is heconscious?" "No. But he hasn't curled up like a fetus, so they're hopeful there's noserious brain injury Broken bones will heal, and hey, who would mind having acolostomy, really?" she said sarcastically. "And looking like the ElephantMan? A rminor trade-off for not biting the big dirt sandwich.""You didn't do it to him, Tinks," Kovac said evenly.Liska didn't meet his eyes. "I know. I'm dealing with it. I am. It's Just thatseeing him again . . ." She took a deep breath and let it go. "If I had gottenthere on time . . ." "Feeling guilty won't change anything, kiddo. He made his own choices, and youdid the best you could."She nodded. "It's Just frustrating, that's all. But I'll handle it.""I know you win. And you know I'm here when you need me." She looked at himwith fondness and appreciation and a sheen of tears in her eyes. "Thanks.""That's what partners do.We back each other up.""Don't make me cry, Kovac," she said with a phony scowl. "I'll have to hurtyou."220 T A M 0 A 6 "Careful," he warned. "I might like it. I'm a lonely guy." He paused. "So,what's the word on the case? Are you in?""I have to talk to Leonard," she said, and made a face. "Ibsen was myinformant. I was on the scene. I'm the one who got the call to leave italone." "That call says dumb and dumber all over it. If it was a random a.s.sault, younever would have gotten a call after the fact."Liska agreed. "Dumb as dirt. Now I've got something I can take to IA and useto get access to the files on the Curtis investigation. Why would anyone warnme off a closed case unless there was a d.a.m.n good reason to open it back up?""Anything on the caller ID?""The number came back to a pay phone on the backside of nothing. So DeepThroat gets credit for having a couple of brain cells. I have no hope forwitnesses of the call being placed.""And Ogden and Rubel-their alibi holds up?"Liska made a sound of contempt. "What alibi? They were shootng pool in Rubel'sbas.e.m.e.nt. And guess who was with them?1 1 Cal Springer." "That's cozy.""He'd probably swear they'd all been on the moon at the time if 'that was whatthe other two said, he's such a chickens.h.i.+t. They must have pictures of himdoing a goat:' Liska said with disgust. "Anyway, Castleton was up for Ibsen'sa.s.sault. He and the s.h.i.+ft supervisor both said I'm welcome as second if Leonard clears it."

"Leonard's gonna have your a.s.s for digging around in IA business." Liska shrugged. "Can I help it if the guy would only talk to me? According to what I've heard, the rest of the department had tuned him out. n.o.body wanted to hear about his AIDS conspiracy theories." "Wh8 has AIDS?"

"Eric Curtis was HIV-positive. Puts a new wrinkle into it, huh? What h.o.m.ophobe would beat a gay man to death and run the risk of coming into contact with contaminated blood?"

Kovac frowned, recalling his visit with the man credited with the Curtis horm*

cide. "Twenty says Verma has it."

"But if Verma did it, then who's warmi ng me off? He's in jail." They stared at each other for a moment, Kovac swiveling his chair. "I still like Ogden for that," he said.

"Me too.That's the way I'm playing it."

S T T 0.

D U S T.

"Be careful."She nodded. "Howd Mike's autopsy go?""No big revelations so far. Nothing under his fingernails but dirt. He hadsome bruising on the back of his hands, but not conclusively defense wounds.The skin wasn't freshly broken, and we know he had taken a fall recently,which could explain any marks. For that matter, Stone couldn't swear thediscoloration was genuine bruising. There was a lot of lividity in the handsbecause of the position of the body.""What about gunpowder residue?""Both hands. Doesn't mean somebody didn't force him to put the gun in hismouth, but we can't prove someone did either.""So we're nowhere with that," Liska said. "Stone will rule it a suicide.""She won't do anything till all the lab work comes back, and she promised meeverything is backed up-to say nothing of the fact that paperwork regularlygets mislaid, if you know what I mean."Liska grinned. "I think Doc Stone wouldn't mind getting mislaid by you, if youknow what I mean."Kovac felt heat rise in his cheeks. In his rm*nd's eye he flashed on AmandaSavard, not Maggie Stone. The look in her eyes when he'd cupped her chin inhis hand: vulnerability. He forced a scowl. "I'm not going to bed with anywoman who dissects people for a living. Anyway, she'll buy us a little time,but we could do with a miracle about now. I also asked her to go back and lookover Andy Fallon's autopsy. In case Upshaw doesn't know his a.s.s.""Need a rm'racle?" Elwood asked, walking over to the cubicle. He wore a thickmohair sweater over a s.h.i.+rt and tie. It made him look like a woolly mammoth."I'd sell my soul," Kovac said."That would be something of a contradiction, as miracles are a.s.sociated withpositive higher powers," Elwood pointed out. "You sell your soul to thedevil.""You can give him my regards if you don't spill what you've got." "A neighborsaw Neil Fallon's truck parked in front of Mike's house late Wednesday night.One oh-nine, to be precise. I checked the reports on the neighbors theunliforms canva.s.sed yesterday. They hit this house, but the owner was out. Thecleaning lady answered the door. So I called, and bingo."0 A GKovac vaulted up out of his chair. "That's more like it.""They saw this truck pull up, but they didn't hear the gunshot?" Liska. asked,dubious.41 insomniac wit in 1 1 1Pm . h hear' g aids," Elwood said. "She's eightythree. Butshe's sharp as a tack.""How's her eyesight?""Great with the Bausch and Lomb binoculars she keeps on her coffee table."

"Light?" "Floodlights on the corners of her home. She's a neighborhood watch commander. She didn't recognize the truck, but she got the license number."

"Would she like my job after Leonard fires me?" "Did she see him leave?" Kovac asked.

"One thirty-two."

"That's earlier than the estimated TOD, but I'll take it."

Kovac scooped the Mike Fallon Polaroids into a drawer and, looking into his blank computer monitor, tried to straighten his tie. "Have Neil Fallon picked up for questioning," he said to Elwood. "I'll break the news to Leonard."

W H AT T H E H E L L is this about?" Neil Fallon demanded.

A pair of uniforms had pulled him out of his shop to bring him in. His filthy coveralls looked like the same ones he wore the day Kovac had told him about his brother. His hands were dark with dirt and grease.

"Jesus Christ, my brother and my father are dead and-and-you drag me down here like a f.u.c.king crirm,nal!" Fallon ranted as he paced hard in the tight confines of the interview room. The same room where jamal Jackson had cracked Kovac in the head. "No explanation. No apology"

"You are a f.u.c.king criminal," Kovac said, matter-of-fact. "We know about the a.s.sault conviction, Neil. Did you think we wouldn't check? Now, how about you give me an explanation and an apology?"

He stood with his arms crossed and his back against the wall beside the two-way imirror, watching Fallon's reaction. Liska stood opposite him, against the other wall. Elwood had the door. No one availle d- D U S T.

T 0.

D U S T 223.

themselves of the chairs at the friendly little round table. The red light glowed on the video camera.

Fallon glared at him. "That was a long time ago, and it was bulls.h.i.+t besides.

It was an accident."

"You accidentally beat some guy into a coma in a bar fight?" Liska said. "How does that work?"

"There was a fight. He fell and hit his head."

Kovac looked over at Elwood. "Isn't that what Cain said about Abel?"

"I believe so."

"How about you apologize for lying to me yesterday, Neil?" Kovac said. "How about you explain to me what you were doing at your father's house at one A.M.

the same morning he died?"

Fallon ran out of gas abruptly. He tried to hold on to some of the anger in his expression. Beneath it was a layer of confusion, then suspicion, then fear. "What are you talking about? I-I don't know what you're talking about."

"Save it:'Liska advised. "A neighbor of your father's put your truck in his driveway at one A.M. 11 "You told me yesterday the last time you spoke with him was on the phone that night." Kovac paused.

Fallon's eyes darted around the room as if he might see an explanation somewhere.

"Why would you he to me like that, Neil? Were you embarra.s.sed you couldn't convince your old man to fork over the money you need to pay off your ex? If that's what you talked about in the twenty-three-nuinute phone call placed from your bar at eleven oh-seven Pm."

Fallon sucked in a short breath and then another, like an asthmatic on the verge of an attack. He rubbed the side of his neck with his thick, filthy hand.

Kovac s.h.i.+fted his weight lazily. "You're getting that 'oh, s.h.i.+t' look, Neil.

Don't you think so, Tinks?"

"Oh, s.h.i.+t," she said. "It's sphincter spasm time, Neil."

"Did you think I wouldn't call the phone company and request the local usage

records on your phone?" Kovac asked. "You must think I'm pretty f.u.c.kingstupid, Neil.""Why would you do that?" Fallon asked, nervous. "I'm not a suspect foranything.jesus, my father just killed himself-""And I'm sick of hearing you remind me. I'm the one found him224 T A M with his head blown half off.You think you need to keep rerminding me of that?That's not an effective strategy, Neil."Someone dies a violent death like Mike did, it gets investigated," Kovac:said. "You know the first people who get looke d at? Family. 'Causeno one's got better motive to croak a person than a relative. You told meyourself.-You hated Mike. Add to that the fact that you need money to pay offyour soon-to-be ex, and that Mike wouldn't give it to you.That's calledmotive." The fear began to rise to the surface. Fallon's movements became jerky. Sweatrmisted his upper lip. He moved backward toward the corner with the built-inbookcase. All the shelves had been removed. "But he was my old man. I wouldn'tdo that to him. He was my father.""And he spent thirty-some years telling you you weren't as good as your f.a.gbrother. That's what we call afestering wound,""He was a b.a.s.t.a.r.d," Fallon declared. "I won't say otherwise, but I didn't killhim. As for that b.i.t.c.h Cheryl, it's none of her G.o.dd.a.m.n business where I getthe money. I'll pay her off.""Or you'll lose the business you've busted your hump for," Liska said. "h.e.l.lhath no fury like a bitter, vindictive woman. I should know, I am one.""I spoke with your ex," Kovac said. "She sounded like she's losing patience,ready to put the squeeze on you. Did you ask your brother for the money?"He shook his head as if he'd taken a sharp smack in the ear, incredulous atthis sudden downturn in his life. He looked from Liska to Kovac. "You gonnasay I killed him too?""We're not saying you killed anybody, Neil. We're just asking you questionspertinent to our case, that's all. That and pointing out how things look fromthe police perspective.""Stick your perspective up your a.s.s, Kovac. Andy's not your case. That's over.Dead and buried. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust. The bra.s.s signed off."Kovac arched a brow. "And you're trying to rub my face in that for whatreason?" "I'm just saying it's over.""But see, we have to look at an established pattern of behavior here, Neil.One member of the family offi himself, that's one thing. Two in a week? That'ssomething else. You hated them both. You'reD U S T T 0 D U S T 225 going through a rough time emotionally and financially. We call those factorsprecipitating stressors. Stressors that might be enough to push a guy over theline.You have a record of violent behavior-" "I didn't kill anybody,""What were you doing at Mike's house at that time of Might?""I went to check on him," Fallon said, his gaze sliding away. Absently, hetouched his face just below the bruise on the crest of his cheek. "We'd talkedearlier. I didn't like the way he sounded.""The way he sounded or what he had to say?" Kovac asked. "We know you'd beendrinking. You told me so. You told me you were tanked enough to mix it up witha customer, the guy you made for a cop. Did your old man say something to p.i.s.syou offl""It wasn't like that." "How wasn't it like that? You're gonna try to tell me now your familywas like something out of Ozzie and Harriet?"

"No, but-""You told me Mike was always chewing your a.s.s. How was this different? Whatdid you talk about?""I told you yesterday-what time he wanted to be at the funeral home.""Yeah, you told me yesterday. Why didn't you tell me then youhadn't liked the way he sounded?You didn't say anything about having beenconcerned. In fact, if memory serves, you called him an old p.r.i.c.k. Why didn'tyou tell me you'd been to the house to check on him?"Fallon turned around in a slow circle, left hand ma.s.saging his forehead, righthand on his hip. "He killed himself after I left," he said, lowering hisvoice. "I didn't do a very good job seeing to his needs, did I? His onlyliving son . . .""What did he need? What did he say?"Kovac waited and watched as Neil Fallon paced his little circle. His bullshoulders curled in as if he were fighting a pain in his stomach. His face wasflushed. He held a shallow breath, then puffed it out, held it, puffed it out.He dug into the pocket of his coveralls and came out with a pack of Marlboros. ,"Sorry, Mr. Fallon:' Elwood said. "We keep a smoke-free environment."Fallon glared at him and shook one out of the pack. "So throw me out."Kovac moved toward him slowly. "I don't think that conversation226 T A M 0 A G was about what Mike needed, Nell," he said softly, s.h.i.+fting gears. "I think itwas more likely about what you need. I think you were drunk and p.i.s.sed offwhen you called him, and you argued about the cash you need. And after thatconversation, you got angrier and angrier, thinking about what you need andhow your old man wouldn't give it to you, how he doted on Andy and s.h.i.+t allover you. And you got so mad, you got in your truck and you went to give it tohim in his face." "He was half drunk, half wasted on pills," Fallon muttered. "I might as wellhave been talking to a turmp. He didn't give a s.h.i.+t what I had to say aboutanything. He never did.""He wouldn't give you the money."He shook his head and laughed. "He wouldn't listen to the question. All hewanted to talk about was Andy. How much he loved Andy. How Andy let him down.How Andy couldn't let sleeping dogs lie." Kovac looked at Liska, who hadstraightened abruptly."He used those words?" she asked. "'Let sleeping dogs lie'? Why would he saythat?" "I don't know," he snapped. "Because of Andy coming out of the closet, Isuppose. If he'd kept it to himself he was queer, then the old man wouldn'thave had to deal with it.'After all these years,' he kept saying. Like itwasn't fair telling him now. Like either he should have told when he was tenor waited for the old man to die. Jesus ." "That must have made you crazy," Kovac said. "You'd had a few. You'd mixed itup with that customer.You're there in the flesh and Andy's dead, but he'sgoing on about Andy this and Andy that.""That's what I said to him.'Andy's dead. Can we bury him and move on?"'He took a pull on his cigarette and blew the smoke out hard. His face hadturned a deep red. He squinted to better picture the memory ... or to keeptears at bay. He stared at the two-way nuirror, not seeing it. "I got rightdown in his face and I screamed at him-'Andy wasa b.u.t.t-f.u.c.king f.a.g and I'mglad he's dead!"'He shouted the words past the emotions that swelled in his throat. He coveredhis eyes with his left hand, the cigarette smoldering between his fingers."Whatd he do?" Fallon was crying, the tears sliding under his hand, tortured, broken soundscracking from his mouth.D U S T T 0 D U S T 227 "Whatd Mike do when you said that, Neil?" "H-he h-hit m-me.""And what did you do then?" " Oh, G.o.d . . *""What'd you do then, Neil?" Kovac prodded gently, stepping close. "I h-hith-him b-back. Oh, Christ!" He sobbed and bent over, putting both hands overhis face. "And now he's dead. They're both dead! Oh, G.o.d!"Kovac took the cigarette from him, breathing in the smoke, craving one of hisown.With regret, he put it out on the table, burming a black mark in thewoodgrain surface."Did you kill him, Neil?" he asked softly. "Did you kill Mike?" Fallon shookhis head, hands still over his face. "No.""We can test your hands for gunpowder residue:'Liska said. "We'll do what'scalled a neutron activation a.n.a.lysis," Kovac explained. "It won't matter howmany times you've washed your hands since. Microscopic particles becomeembedded in your skin from the blowback. It shows up for weeks after."He was bluffing, playing the card as a scare tactic. The test could only showwhether the person had come in contact with barium and antimony-components ofgunpowder-and a imillion other mixtures, natural and man-made. Practicallyspeaking, even a positive result would have little forensic value and lessvalidity in a courtroom. Too much time had elapsed between the incident andthe test. Defense attorneys made a living at arguing that time equaledcontamination of evidence. Paid forensic expert witnesses would have a fieldday disputing the results. But Neil Fallon probably didn't know that.A knock sounded at the door, and Elwood moved away from it. Lieutenant Leonardstuck his head in. A constipated expression hardened his face. "Sergeant. CanI have a word?" "I'm kind of in the rmiddle of something here:' Kovac said impatiently.Leonard just looked at him, eloquent in his silence. Kovac looked back at NeilFallon and stifled a sigh. If he was going to confess to anything, this wasthe time to get it: while he was emotionally weak, before he had a chance topull up the s.h.i.+elds and regroup, before he could utter the L word.228 7 A M 0 A 0 Kovac felt like a pitcher being taken out of the game while he was stillthrowing heat.He turned to Liska. "Guess you're the closer," he said under his breath."Sergeant Leonard said. Kovac stepped out the door and followed him into the next room, where Leonardhad been watching through the gla.s.s. The room was dark. A theater with awindow for a movie screen. Ace Wyatt stood at the window with his armscrossed, looking through the murky pane at Neil Fallon.Wyatt gave Kovac theprofile for another few seconds, then the heavy-things-on-my-mind look. It wasthe same expression plastered on billboards around the Twin Cities advertisinghis television show. "Why are you doing this, Sam?" Wyatt asked. "Hasn't this family sufferedenough?""That depends. If it turns out this one killed the other two, then the answerwould be no." "Did something happen at the autopsy I don't know about?" "Why should you knowanything about it?" Kovac challenged. "Maggie Stone isn't in the habit ofpa.s.sing that kind of information around." . Wyatt ignored the question, above the curiosity of the common street cop."You're treating him like you know for a fact Mike was murdered.""We've got good reasons:'Kovac said. He pulled the Polaroids out of his insidecoat pocket and spread them out on the window ledge. "First, he did it in thecan. Lots of people do, but it had to be a ha.s.sle for him to get in there withthe chair-backward, no less. Liska picked up on that. I thought maybe hewanted to leave us a neat death scene, but it makes more sense that somebody else wanted to leave us a neat death scene.When was the last time old Mike gave a s.h.i.+t about anyone else? The gun came out of the closet in his bedroom.Why wouldn't he just do it there? It's not Eke he was worried about making amess.The place was a pigsty-"Plus there's Neil Fallon's record, his history of problems with the old man,the fact that he lied about being at the house.""But the time he was there and the time of death don't line up," Leonardpointed out.D U S T T 0 D U S T 229 "Other factors might have skewed the TOD," Kovac said. "Stone will tell youthat." "But there wasn't anything conclusive in the autopsy to say murder, wasthere?")XIyatt asked.Kovac lifted a shoulder, his eyes moving from the Polaroids to the interviewroom and back. Nell Fallon was sitting, both elbows on the table, his head inhis hands. Liska stood beside him, leaning down."If something happened that night, you'd be better off telling us now, Nell,"she said quietly, like a friend. "Get it off your chest. You're carrying a lotof weight there."Fallon shook his head. "I didn't kill him." His voice sounded tinny and faraway as it came out of the television that was mounted on a wall bracket nearthe window. The camera in the interview room looked down on the partiesinvolved, making them appear small and distorted."I hit him," he said. "I did that. I hit him in the face. My own father. Andhim in that G.o.dd.a.m.n chair. And now he's dead.""We'll do the neutron activation:' Kovac told Leonard andWyatt. "See if wecan't scare something out of him.""And if you can't?" Leonard asked."Then I apologize for the inconvenience and we try something else."Wyatt frowned. "Why not wait until you get word from Stone? There's no sensetormenting the man unnecessarily. Mike was one of ours-""And he deserves to have us do more than go through the motions:'Kovac said,his temper rising. "You want I should just wave this one through,Ace?You wantto go to Maggie Stone and try to get her to sign this one off as an accidenttoo? Keep it all quiet so Iron Mike's legend isn't tarnished? Jesus. What ifthis hump capped him?" "Kovac' " Leonard snapped.Kovac shot him a glare. "What? This is the homicide squad. We investigateviolent deaths. Mike Fallon died a violent death, and we want to look theother way because we think he killed himself, because that could be'us; in thePolarolds *in five years. Suicide makes too much sense to us, because we knowwhat the job can do to a man, how it can leave him with nothing.""And maybe that's why you want to think it's something else,Sam," Wyatt said. "Because if Mike Fallon didn't kill himself, maybe you won'teither." "No. I didn't want to see it. Liska put it in my face. I might have walkedaway from it. But she was right to dig at it, to look at it like any othershooting. There's too much going on here to just say what a shame.""I'm just thinking of showing due respect for his only remaining family,"Wyatt said. "At least until the ME gives us something concrete.""Well, that's fine. And if you had any say in the matter, maybe Id listen toyou. But unless I had a dream, I was at your retirement party, Ace.What youthink about my investigation doesn't amount to a hill of rat s.h.i.+t."Ace Wyatt's face went purple.Leonard stepped up. "You're out of line, Kovac.""What line is that? The a.s.s-kissing line?" Kovac muttered as he walked awayfrom the pair. Wyatt's toady, Gaines, stood in the back corner of the room,staring at him with the smug srmirk of a cla.s.sroom tattletale. Kovac gave him a look of distaste and turned back toward the window. "If I was out of line, I'm sorry," he said without sincerity. "It's been ah.e.l.l of a week." "No," Wyatt said on a tight sigh. "You're right, Sam. I don't have any sayhere. It's your investigation. If you want to punish Neil Fallon and invite alawsuit against the department because you need some time on the shrink'scouch, it's not my place to do anything about it. That is a shame, and I wis.h.i.+t didn't have to be that way,""Yeah, well, I wish for world peace and for theVikings to win the Super Bowlbefore I die," Kovac said. "You know how it is, Ace. Murder's an uglybusiness." "If that's what this is." "If that's what this is. And if that's what this is, then I'll nail the t.u.r.dthat did it. I don't care who it is." He went back to the window and stood watching."Are you right- or left-handed, Mr. Fallon?" Elwood asked. "Left."Elwood set a small kit of containers and cotton swabs on the table. Fallon stared at the test kit, straightening in his chair.D U S T T 0 0 U S T 231 "We'll swab the back of your index finger and thumb with a five percent nitricacid solution," Liska explained. "It doesn't hurt."Kovac jerked his gaze to the photos of Mike Fallon's death scene. "Jesus:' hewhispered, picking up one Polaroid and then another, looking at them, thensetting them aside. One after another. His pulse kicked up a notch."What?" Wyatt demanded.The thing he had known was there but hadn't been able to see. He looked at thelast of the photographs."Please hold out your left hand, Mr. Fallon," Elwood said, preparing a swab.Neil Fallon started to reach out, his hand trembling visibly.Kovac held the Polaroid up against the window. A split-screen image of fatherand son. Mike Fallon, a dead husk, b.l.o.o.d.y, halfbeheaded; the gun that hadkilled him lying on the floor on the right side of his chair, apparentlyhaving fallen from his hand as life rushed out of him."Mr. Fallon?" The question mark in Elwood's voice caught Kovac's ear. "Mr. Fallon, I needyou to hold out your hand.""No." Neil Fallon pushed his chair back from the table and stood up." No. I'mnot doing it. I don't have to do it. I won't.""It's not a big deal, Neil," Liska said. "If you didn't shoot him."He moved back, shoving the chair aside, tipping it over. "I didn't killanybody.You think I did, then charge me or go f.u.c.k yourselves. I'm outtahere." Elwood turned toward the window. Kovac stared at the photograph as Neil Fallon stormed out of theinterview room. "Mike Fallon was left-handed," he said, looking at Wyatt. "Mike Fallon wasmurdered." 0 A 0 A P T E R M I K E F A L L 0 N W A S left-handed," Kovac said. "He's gonna kill himself,he takes the gun in his left hand."He pantomimed the action for the people a.s.sembled in Leonard's office:Leonard, Liska, Elwood, and Chris Logan from the county attorney's office. "Hesupports the left hand with the right, sticks the barrel in his mouth, pullsthe trigger. Bang! That's it. He's dead. The recoil pulls the arms away fromthe body. So maybe the gun is flung away from him. Or maybe it stays in thegun hand-the left hand-as that arm swings to the side. But there's no way it falls to the right side of the chair.""You're sure he was left-handed?" Logan asked. The prosecutor looked as ifhe'd been blown across the street from the government center by an arcticwind: dark hair mussed, cheeks red. The mon.o.brow formed a darkV above his eyes."I'm sure:' Kovac said. "I don't know why it didn't hit me at the scene. Iguess because it made too much sense that Mike offed himself." Tut his sonwould know he was left-handed." 'Neil's left-handed too:' Kovac argued. "So he helps the old man along to thenext life, pulls back, sets the gun down with his left hand. That puts it onMike's right."

Logan's frown deepened. "That's too thin.You have anything else? Fingerprintson the gun?""No. Mike's prints on the gun, but they're smudged. Like maybe someone hadtheir hands on top of his.""Maybe doesn't cut it. Maybe his hands were sweating and he changed his griprepeatedly. Maybe the prints smudged as the gun slipped from his hands afterhe pulled the trigger.,,"A witness puts Neil Fallon at the scene that night:'Elwood said. "And Fallonlied about it:'Kovac added. "But it was two or three hours before the TOD, right?"Liska took a turn." He didn't get along with Mike. Lots of pent-up resentmentand jealousy. Mike wouldn't loan him the money he needed. Fallon admits tohaving argued with his father. He admits to having hit him.""But he doesn't admit to having killed him."Kovac swore. "Is that what we have to do now? Serve every d.a.m.n perp up on aplatter to you guys? Dressed up like Christmas turkeys with signed confessionsin their beaks?" "You have to bring me more than what you've got. His lawyer's going to havehim out of here in five minutes.You have motive, and that's it.You haveopportunity that doesn't jibe with the ME's take on what happened.You've gotno physical evidence, no witnesses. So the guy lied to you. Everybody lies tothe cops."You don't have enough to hold him. I don't have enough to take to the grandjury. Put him at the scene when someone heard a gunshot. Find the old man'sblood on his shoes. Something. Anything.""If Neil had his hands over Mike's on the gun, then he left his fingerprintson the old man's skin:'Liska pointed out."It'll be hard to pick up now," Kovac said. "Stone and Lars clipped thefingernails, examined the hands for defense wounds . ."It's still worth a call," she insisted. "Ply her with your charm, Sam." Kovacrolled his eyes. "How about a search warrant for Neil Fallon's place? So wecan find the b.l.o.o.d.y shoes.""Type out an affidavit and go see judge Lundquist with my blessing:'Logansaid, checking his watch. "I'm all for nailing this b.a.s.t.a.r.d if he killed theold man." He shrugged into his coat. "But the case has to stand up. Otherwiseit's another cl.u.s.ter f.u.c.k for the press to turn their cameras on, and I'm notgoing to be the guy in the spotlight stomping on the burning bag of dog s.h.i.+t.0 A G "I've got to go' " he announced. "I'm due in judge's chambers." He was out thedoor and gone before anyone could object."The downside to drawing the politically ambitious prosecutor," Elwood said."He'll take only well-calculated risks he knows he can win.""Logan's smart," Leonard interjected. "The department can't take anotherfiasco." Translation: Kef.u.c.k up and the bra.s.s is up Leonard a.s.s u4th afire hose, Kovacthought. With Ace Wyatt orchestrating the charge from behind the scenes. Andthe s.h.i.+t storm would drench him and Liska. Elwood might escape, being on the periphery of the case.

"I'll get the affidavit," Kovac said.

Liska's pager went off and she grabbed for her belt.

"Should we get a sheriff's unit to sit on Neil Fallon's place?" Elwood asked.

"They'll want in on the search. It's their jurisdiction." Leonard started to say something. Kovac spoke over him, ignoring the lieutenant's authority to run the case.

"Call Tippen. See what he can do for us. If anyone from the SO is coming to the party, I want it to be him."

"Sam, I've gotta go," Liska said."'Ibsen's regained consciousness. Do you need me for the search?"

"No, go ahead."

"The night-s.h.i.+ft supervisor called me," Leonard said loudly, bringing her up short of the door. "I agreed you could be Castleton's second on the Ibsen a.s.sault. In case you were wondering."

"Thanks, Lieutenant," she said, trying unsuccessfully not to look sheepish. "I meant to tell you. Ibsen is my informant."

"Maybe when you get back, you can take five minutes to fill me in as to what he's been inforrming you about."

"Sure, later." She turned away from him, making big eyes at Kovac. "Good luck, Tinks:' he said: "I hope the guy has total recall and twenty-twenty night vision."

"I'll be happy if he can do more than drool."

"REGAINING CONSCIOUSNESS," as it turned out,was something of an overstatement.