Page 113 of NYPD Red 7: The Murder Sorority

Brooke brightened. Of course it was. And she’d been right about the wine.

It was lovely.

CHAPTER 75

“The mayor calleda press conference for ten thirty,” Cates told us the next morning.

“Oh, good,” Kylie said. “I can’t wait to hear how she took down an entire army of criminals and saved Gotham from the clutches of evil.”

Cates cracked up. “It’s not an order, but it would be smart politics if you were in the audience applauding her leadership.”

We would have gone, but something better came up. Steve Edlund called. “Vincent Ackerman just turned his phone back on.”

“Where is he?”

“His apartment. McDaniel and I are on the way.”

“We’re right behind you,” I said.

We were crossing the Ed Koch Bridge when I got the call. “Detective Jordan, this is Alvin Jeong, Priscilla and Vincent Ackerman’s neighbor. They’re at it again. And it’s much louder than usual.”

“What are you hearing?”

“She’s screaming, ‘You can’t leave me! If you go, I’ll kill myself !’ It sounds like he’s trying to calm her down, but she’s—oh, shit, I hear glass breaking. She’s throwing things. She’s never been this bad before. I think you better send somebody.”

“We’re on the way. Lock your door and don’t leave your apartment.”

Kylie radioed for backup, and I called Edlund. “It sounds like Vincent told Priscilla he’s getting married, and she’s taking it

badly.”

We were there three minutes later. A man was standing outside the building, waving at us. “I’m the super. Dr. Jeong called me. Is there anything I can do?”

“Ackerman! Do you have a key?”

“Apartmentfour-B,” he said, pulling a key off his ring.

Edlund and McDaniel rolled up behind us.

“Take the fire escape,” Kylie said as we strapped on our vests. “We’ve got the stairs.”

As soon as the four of us were in position, I pounded on the apartment door.

“Go away,” a female voice yelled.

“Priscilla, it’s the police. We’re here for Vincent.”

“Are you here to arrest him?”

“We have questions for him. He’s coming with us to the precinct.”

“He’s not. He can’t. He can’t go anywhere. I need him here. He’s staying with me.”

“You can come with us,” I said.

“I can’t leave the house. Ask anybody. I’m on disability.”

“Vincent,” I said, changing tactics. “Are you okay?”

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