Page 20 of NYPD Red 7: The Murder Sorority

“And you think Brooke was behind it?”

“She had amultimillion-dollarmotive, and as far as we can tell, she’s the only one who had the means.”

Selma took a deep breath and exhaled audibly. “I have a court date at nine tomorrow morning,” she said. “But my team can dig up a lot before then. How early can you meet me in my office?”

“Sunrise,” Kylie said.

“Make it seven a.m.,” Selma said.

We hung up.

“I think we’ve done enough for one shift,” Kylie said. “Let’s get some dinner.”

“There’s a great little pizza place onTwenty-Firstand Lex,” I said.

“Pizza?After the day we just put in, we are not wrapping it up with a couple of slices, some garlic knots, and a Coke. We deserve a real dining experience.”

“We also deserve a good night’s sleep,” I said, “and if we’re meeting Selma at seven in the morning, we should get going on that.”

“Sleep? Jesus, what happened to the Zach I used to know back in the day? Work, eat, drink, work some more—sleep was always an afterthought.”

I smiled.Back in the day. Kylie and I were both starting out at the Academy. She had just dumped her drug addict boyfriend, and I caught her on the rebound. We went from zero to Mach one in a heartbeat, and I was positive that we’d be together for the rest of our lives. Buttwenty-eightdays after it all began, Spence Harrington got out of rehab and begged her for one more chance. A year later, they were married.

Ten years after that, life took a strange turn. Kylie and I wound up as partners, Spence relapsed, and their marriage crashed and burned. At this point, our love affair was a fond but distant memory. But some things never changed—like the devilish look on Kylie’s face when she was taking over my life.

“Here’s the deal,” she said. “There will be absolutely no pizza. There will be some sleep. But there will be plenty of good food and lots of laughs. We’re having dinner at Shane’s place.”

Shane’s place was Farm to Fork, a restaurant that had opened only a few weeks earlier but now had athirty-daywaiting list to get a table.

Unless, of course, you were dating the owner, Chef Shane Talbot.

Shane was the new man in Kylie’s life. He’d recently moved from Houston, and his new restaurant was winning the hearts, minds, and palates of New York’s most critical foodies. He was on the verge of becoming the city’s next celebrity chef, but he didn’t fit the mold. There were no reports of histrionics or other culinary artists’ tantrums coming from his kitchen. Shane Talbot knew how to roll with the punches—an excellent quality for any man in a relationship with Kylie.

“I texted Shane an hour ago,” she added, “and as booked up as they are, he promised that a table will magically open up when we get there.”

“Okay, but I’m not going to sit there and watch you and Shaneeye-fuckingeach other all night. I’m calling Cheryl and telling her to meet us.”

“Don’t bother. She’s on the way. I already texted her.”

“You texted? Y’know, I realize you barely have a passing regard for boundaries, but don’t you think I should be the one to invite my own girlfriend to dinner?”

“Don’t be so possessive. Cheryl may be your girlfriend, but she’s also a friend of mineanda coworker, and she’s Shane’s cousin. Any one of us could’ve invited her.”

“I get it, but you could have asked me.”

“I would have,” Kylie said, “but you were too busyeye-fuckingMegan Rollins.”

I turned toward the window and put my hand over my mouth to cover the grin that was spreading over my face.

That’s two more things about Kylie that have never changed. She never gives up on an argument until she’s had the last word. And she loves to plan other people’s lives. Whether they ask for her help or not.

CHAPTER 15

The restaurantwas on Bank Street in the West Village. It was a warm July evening, and patrons who were lucky enough to score a reservation spilled out onto the sidewalk, drinks in hand, chattering away as they waited for their names to be called.

We didn’t have to wait. As soon as we approached the front door, Nico, the manager, spotted us. “Kylie! Zach!” he boomed. “Welcome back.”

After chasing bad guys for more than twelve hours, we weredog-tired, rumpled, and as far from downtown chic as you can get. And yet, we appeared to be restaurant royalty. Shit like that drives the New York glitterati crazy. Nico added to our mystique with adouble-clasphandshake for me and acheek-to-cheekair kiss for Kylie. I could feel the undercurrent ofwho the fuck are those two?in the air.

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