Page 133 of Bonded in Death

“Bullshit.”

“Detective Sergeant—”

“You can write me up if you want, but I’ll say it again. That’s bullshit, LT. You weren’t the only one who saw him go into 186. The motherfucker walked right by me. McNab says he saw him on-screen.”

“I did. The description was off, and he was with the woman—like they were a couple. It didn’t ring.”

“Saw him myself,” Feeney put in, “and maybe should’ve known better, but he slipped by me, too.”

“I was in charge of the op. The op failed. It’s on me.”

“No excuses,” Baxter said, “but reasons. We were covering a block, in the rain, looking for a man who worked in intelligence, knows how to change his appearance and slide through. And that’s what he did.

“This time.”

“You knew he’d be there,” Carmichael added. “You were right. He ran. He’s spooked now.”

“And more dangerous because of it,” Eve pointed out. “At this point—”

“Lieutenant,” Whitney interrupted. “Why did you enter building 186?”

“Other than the sidewalk service, it had the best view of the target. And two unoccupied street-facing units. One had a painting crew working. It seemed unlikely, as time ticked down, he would use the sidewalk restaurants, and more possible he might have infiltrated the painting crew. I went in to check it out, cleared the crew, and discovered the Realtor, the woman who’d walked in with what turned out to be Potter posing as a prospective tenant. She’d left him alone in 3-C.

“I alerted the team. One minute the other way, Commander, we’d have boxed him in. He was already on the run when Detectives Peabody, Carmichael, and Santiago arrived. I ordered Peabody to clear 3-C, and Carmichael and Santiago to check the basement area. The emergency exit alarm sounded, and I pursued in that direction.”

“Sir, Carmichael and I made the snap decision for her to clear the basement area, and for me to back up the lieutenant. I thought I was fast.”

He shook his head. “I got nothing. I couldn’t catch up to her, was still well behind when Potter fired on her, then fired again when the lieutenant jumped in front of two female civilians. I didn’t know she was hit.”

“I wasn’t hit,” Eve began, but Whitney pointed at her.

“Continue, Detective.”

“One of the females grabbed the lieutenant’s leg, and a male civilian rushed over and confronted the lieutenant. When I reached them, I told the LT to go—I’d lost sight of Potter—and I ascertained neither of the female civilians had been wounded. At that time, Detective Peabody arrived, and I left her to handle that situation and continued after the lieutenant.

“She’d reached the next corner, and Roarke had come in from the north. At that time, I noted my lieutenant was bleeding along the right side of her torso.”

“Is that accurate, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, sir. We have some door cam footage of Potter as he fled, and have determined he turned north at the corner, then moved out of camera range. With the rain, visibility wasn’t optimum, but we have enough. With that, with the artist’s rendering from other witnesses, and the work in EDD, we should have enough for a current likeness.”

“And the Realtor?”

“I took her statement, Commander,” Jenkinson told him. “She’s who she says she is. Potter, using the name Jamison Brockstone, contacted her about seeing 3-C. It had been well-advertised. He and his wife were to meet her at her office. She ran a standard background, as is her company’s policy, and he checked out. He arrived alone, claiming the wife wasn’t feeling well, and they shared a cab to 186. Then used his large umbrella to the entrance doors.

“They toured the apartment, and he asked if he could do a virtual tour, alone, for his wife so they could discuss. He was to meet her in the other unoccupied unit when he’d finished. She states it was nearly thirteen-fifteen when she left him.”

“He cut it close.”

“Sure as hell did. Sir.”

Nodding, Whitney got to his feet. “Write it up, Dallas, and get me a damn face.”

“Sir.”

When he walked out, Eve started to speak.

“I got something to say.”

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