“Uh, anything but, Zachary. Listen, this is the pick-and-shovel work we do out here in the field. It’s a setback, but that’s all. I continue to get new and promising leads on this guy.” She almost told him about Conscience Point, but that was still so theoretical it would only feel more speculative, rather than less. Nikki tried to remember when she ever had to work so hard to sell a case, but sell she did. “The missing gun is one detail we’ll work around.” She didn’t like the sucking pause from the downtown end of the phone line. She disliked it even more when he filled it.
“To this office that gun is more than a detail. As is your Russian doctor who’s not even a doctor. What happened to him naming Gilbert?”
“He spooked. Somebody got to him.”
“There’s a pattern. No gun, your witness recants…You still don’t have a link to Beauvais and Gilbert and an airplane.”
“He owns a helicopter.”
“Which he couldn’t have been in because he was giving a speech when your Haitian took his skydive.”
“So one of the goons he sent to attack me did it.”
“Oh, you didn’t tell me you had proof they were working for him.” The weasel’s sarcasm made her wish he was there. If Zach had balls, she would kick them.
“Gilbert is solid for this.”
“Heat, I know this is a passion for you,” said The Hammer, “but my passion is keeping this department from embarrassing and costly lawsuits.”
“Yeah, well, mine is putting away killers.” Something slipped its chain inside her and she leaned over the phone to add, “Even if they play golf with your bosses.”
Irons lurched forward in his chair. “Detective, that is out of line.”
“If you’re rich and connected, you get a free pass?”
“And insubordinate.” Wally checked the light on the telephone to make sure his objections were on the record and added, “Careful now, somebody’s living up to her tabloid rep.” Heat cut him a sharp look, but decided she’d done enough damage with her outburst.
If the senior administrative aide to the NYPD’s deputy commissioner for legal matters took offense though, he didn’t sound it. In fact, when he finally spoke again, he came across as downright laid-back. “I think we’ll all do ourselves a favor to take a breath here.” Nikki, who had bolted to her feet in the exchange, sat back down.
Zach’s calm tone gave her a sense that since his second official caution of the day had been voiced, the worst was over. At least until he said, “So I’m taking the pressure off this right now. I got the consent of the brass here, and I’ve conferred with the DA. We are withdrawing all charges against Keith Gilbert.”
urrounded by her squad, Heat stood craning up at the TV on the bull pen wall watching live coverage of Keith Gilbert’s statement to the media about his dropped charges. The whole thing, although hastily called, had the taint of orchestrated theater, and it turned Nikki’s stomach. Tie loosened, shirtsleeves rolled perfectly to the let’s-get-to-work spot, the commissioner had posed himself in front of the Emergency Response magic board in the Port Authority’s Hurricane Sandy Situation Room. Why didn’t he just wrap himself in the flag positioned behind him next to the blinking green lights marking bridge and tunnel status?
Rook called her cell phone. Heat stepped away from the cluster of detectives to take it. “Are you watching this?” he asked.
“It’s like a highway accident. I tried not to, but I just have to look.”
“Thanks for calling to let me know.”
“I would have,” said Nikki, “except apparently, Gilbert knew before I did. Hang on, what’s he saying?”
Up on the TV, Gilbert was addressing a reporter who was offscreen. “There never was anything to this, so it never concerned me — beyond my thoughts and prayers for the victim of this crime,” he said. “I hope the NYPD will now be able to concentrate its resources on bringing the true killer of Fabian Beauvais to justice while I concentrate on the looming storm headed our way.”
Rook scoffed in Nikki’s ear. “Where’s the patriotic music? This guy should have some John Williams or Aaron Copland backing this.” His cynicism was welcome, but little comfort to Heat. Rook not only didn’t believe the commissioner was responsible, his own investigation may have created the first tiny crack leading to the collapse of her case. For her own sanity, she tried to put that in her back pocket for now. Gilbert himself made it more difficult to do so.
“Commissioner,” asked another reporter, “A source told me you had planned to sue NYPD for wrongful arrest. Is that still in the works?”
Keith Gilbert smiled a wan smile and slowly wagged his head from side to side. “Let me say this. Now is a time to be present-and-future focused. Ultimately, the NYPD and the DA did the right thing. This didn’t add up, and they knew it. Even a top investigative journalist, Jameson Rook — who, ironically is the romantic partner of the lead detective of this case — raised huge doubts as recently as today on a blog posted on