Eve pointed Peabody to a chair, then walked to the buffet, poured coffee.
“You brought me coffee.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“It’s usually my job.”
“Because I’m the lieutenant.” Eve sat. “I pulled you into Homicide because I looked at you, and I thought, that’s a cop. Solid, a little green, but solid. And I could help her be a better cop. I have.”
Peabody stared into her coffee, said nothing.
“You have a cop’s work to do for Devin. I put that in your hands because, well, I’m the lieutenant. I have to know my men—their strengths, weaknesses, style. I have to know them, and I have to trust them to do the job. Or I haven’t done mine.”
Eve sipped her coffee, considered her words. “Meetings like I’ve got set up? That’s cop work, too, but it’s the drag of command, Peabody. It’s the politics and deal making, the pissing contests. It has to be done, and I have to do it.”
“Because you’re the lieutenant.”
“Damn right. I’ve thought a lot about what it means to be in command, to have rank since Renee Oberman. Not just about what it means to be a cop, but to be a boss. The responsibilities, and the influence, the obligations to the badge, to the public, to the men and women under your command. I wanted it, and I worked for it. I had to be a cop. It’s all I could be. I’d been a victim, so I knew I could stay broken, or I could fight. I could learn and train and work until I could stand for the victim. We all have our reasons for being a cop.”
“I wanted to make detective, so bad. Being a cop ... it meant I could help people who needed it, and that was important. Making detective, well, for me, it meant I was good, and I’d get better. You got me there.”
“I helped get you there,” Eve corrected. “I didn’t want the rank for the office, for the pay raise.”
“You’ve got one of the crappiest offices in Central,” Peabody told her. “It makes us proud.”
“Seriously?” Surprised, then foolishly pleased, Eve shook her head.
“You don’t care about the fancy, you care about the job. And your men. Everybody knows it.”
And that, Eve realized, didn’t merely please. It warmed her, in the deep.
“Anyway,” Eve continued, “I wanted it because I knew I could do it. I knew I’d be good, and I’d get better. I know when I walk into that bullpen I can depend on every man there. But it’s just as important, maybe more, that every man there knows he can depend on me. That I’ll stand for them and with them, and if necessary, in front of them. If they don’t know that, have absolute faith in that, in me, I’ve failed.”
“You haven’t failed.” Peabody sniffled a little. “We’ve got the best damn division in Central.”
“I happen to agree. Part of that’s me, and I’ll take credit for it. I’m a damn good boss, and the boss sets the level. Renee set hers, Peabody, and some cop who maybe—maybe—would have done the job, would have respected the badge chose to use it and to dishonor it because the person responsible for them said it was okay. Because the person responsible for them dug down for the weakness and squeezed it.”
“I never thought of that, or thought of it like that, I guess.”
“Other cops, good cops like Devin, died because the person responsible for her, the person she should have been able to have absolute faith in, made that call.
“You’re going to bury her for it.”
Peabody looked up again, blinked at the sudden fierceness in Eve’s tone.
“I’m the lieutenant, and I’m telling you you’re going to stand for Detective Gail Devin, and you’re going to get her justice.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, set up the meet with Reo.”
“Can I just run a couple things by you, on the avenues I’m taking?” Peabody smiled a little. “Because you’re the lieutenant.”
“Make it quick. I’ve got politics and pissing contests on my slate.”
“You advised me to treat it like a cold case, so I’ve studied the file, the reports, the wit statements. The investigation was minimal because there were statements from cops—Renee’s cops—that Devin peeled off during the raid, lost her cover. And during that time was assaulted and killed. She got some streams off, took down a couple of the bad guys before she went down.”
“And?” Eve prompted.
“It reads like a cover, Dallas. An obvious cover. Like she screwed up, but her team edged from that so she’d get the posthumous honor. It reads blue line. No point putting she fucked up in her record since she’s dead—but it’s there, you know?”
“Yeah.”
“I can’t reinterview the wits without alerting them and Renee. So I’m reinterviewing the victim.”
Eve kept her smile inside. “Okay.”
“Her record previous to Renee’s command, her instructors in the Academy, cops she worked with when she was in uniform, after she made detective. Her family, friends, DS Allo. I’m working down the line. I told them, except for Allo, I’m working on something that crosses with the raid, so I’m just back-checking.”
“Good.”
“She wasn’t a fuckup, and hearing what Mira had to say in the briefing, I can follow the dots on how they set her up to look like one.”
“Where are you going from here?”
“I wanted to talk to her mother,” Peabody told her, “but her mother doesn’t want to talk to me. She doesn’t want to revisit, and has a serious hard-on for cops. She had a breakdown after it happened, and from what I’ve got she’s never come all the way back. They were tight. I think she might have something and not know it. Something Devin said or did that could bounce me to the next step. I don’t know how hard to push.”
“If your gut tells you she’s got something, you push. You find a way. You know how to work people, Peabody, how to relate, empathize, slide into their skin a little. Your eyewits are liars, so you’re looking for people who have no reason to lie. That’s good strategy.”
“I’ll go see her this morning. But ... it’s possible that if we can flip this doctor, put some pressure on the cops in the raid, we could get her for Gail Devin without anything else.”
“Possible. Do you want possible?” Eve demanded. “Listen, you may not be able to wrap it all the way, but you keep going, and you’ll know you did your best by her. That’s what she deserves, it’s what I expect, and it’s what you’ll be able to tell yourself when it’s done. One way or the other. Now set up my damn meet.”
“All over it.” Peabody rose. “You were my hero.”
“Oh, Jesus.”
“When I was at the Academy, when I got into uniform, I studied you, your cases like you were some mythical figure, and I was on a quest. I wanted to be like you. When you took me on as aide I was so happy, and I was so fucking scared.”
Remembering, Peabody let out a half laugh.
“Those were the days,” Eve said, and made Peabody’s laugh full.
“It didn’t take long for me to learn you weren’t a mythical figure, or the kind of hero who stun streams bounce off of. You bleed just like the rest of us, but you still go through the door. That makes you, and the rest of us who do the same, damn good cops. I learned I’d rather be a damn good cop than a hero. I learned I didn’t want to be like you. You taught me to want to be me. You taught me and helped make me a damn good cop because you’re the lieutenant.”
Peabody pulled out her ’link to set up the meet.
In short order Eve stood outside studying the spiffy little compact in sapphire blue.
“What part of not flashy did you miss?” she asked Roarke as Peabody let out a happy woo-hoo.
“You consider anything this side of ugly flashy. This vehicle is serviceable, handles very well, and has an excellent electronics package Peabody might find useful.”
“Woo-hoo!” Peabody said again. “It’s uptown mag! For a serviceable vehicle I will treat with great respect,” she added.
“Wait ten minutes after I’m through the gate before heading out,” she told Peabody. “If they’ve set up a tail, they’ll follow me, and you’ll be clear.”
“Do you think I can’t shake a tail?”