Purity in Death

"What media schedule?"

"We have several important segments booked, including appearances on Planet, City Beat, Del Vincent, and The Evening Report. We're waiting for confirmation on Crime and Punishment and Speak Back."

"You've booked my lieutenant on no less than four media appearances?"

Chang nodded. "We're very pleased with the schedule, but it can be improved. We're arranging a satellite interview from Delta Colony. The ratings are very high there for crime segments."

"Are you aware, Mr. Chang, that Lieutenant Dallas is the primary in charge of a priority homicide investigation?"

"Yes, this is why-"

"Are you also aware that standard procedure requires that your office clear any such demands as this media schedule with my office before confirming the appearances?"

"I believed it was made clear at this afternoon's meeting. The mayor-"

"What was made clear at this morning's meeting was that Lieutenant Dallas would participate in this press conference, and that at my directive she would make herself available for comment to the media. This schedule has not, and will not, be approved by me. I'm not wasting my lieutenant's valuable time on media pandering."

"The mayor's office-"

"Can contact me," Whitney interrupted. "Don't again presume to give one of my cops orders, Chang. You overreach your authority. Now back off. I need to speak to my lieutenant."

"The media conference-"

"I said back off." The flare from Whitney's eyes could have seared through stone. Eve heard Chang scramble back.

"Commander-"

He held up a hand. "You've come perilously close to being written up for insubordination, Lieutenant. I expect better control from you, and have rarely had the need to remind you of it."

"Yes, sir."

"Moreover, I find myself insulted both on a personal and professional level that you assumed I had or would approve an asinine schedule that pulls you off a priority."

"I apologize, Commander, and can only offer the weak excuse that any and all contact with Lee Chang results in my temporary insanity."

"Understood." Whitney turned the disc over in his hand. "It surprises me, Dallas, that you didn't shove this down his throat."

"Actually, sir, I had another orifice in mind."

His lips quirked, just slightly. Then he snapped the disc in two, just as she had.

"Thank you, Commander."

"Let's get this damn circus over with, so we can both get back to work."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

She got through it, parroting the departmental chorus. As a result of stifling her own opinion, ignoring her own gut instincts, she stewed in her own simmering juices all the way home.

"Dallas." They were nearly at the gates when Peabody dared to speak. That way, if Eve tossed her bodily out of the car, she wouldn't have far to hike. "Don't take my head off, okay? You did what you had to do."

"What I have to do is investigate the case, and close it."

"Yeah, but sometimes serving the public's complicated. There are a lot of people who'll sleep easier tonight because they heard their home unit isn't going to fry their brains if they sit down and balance their financials or do some e-mail. If their kid does his school report. That's important."

"I'll tell you what I think." Eve headed toward the gates without dropping speed so that beside her Peabody's heart took a fast spring into her throat. "I think people shouldn't always believe what they hear."

"Sir. I'm not sure I follow you."

"Maybe whoever's ma

"But, they're going after known predators. I'm not saying it's right. I'm not saying that, Dallas, because it's not. But it's a really big leap to go from school yard dealers and pedophiles to some guy who takes some recreational Zoner on Saturday night."

"Is it?" Eve stopped the car at the base of the front steps. "The law's ignoring Mr. Smith. It hasn't punished him, just like it didn't punish the others. Purity punished them, and a lot of people thought: Hey, that's not a bad idea. Cops didn't do the job, so good, somebody else did. Nobody's thinking, hmm, that Mary Ellen George was acquitted. Maybe she was i

"She wasn't, so-"

"No, she wasn't, but the next one could be. The one after that. It's not easy to watch somebody walk, but it's a hell of a lot easier than it is to know an i

"You really think that'll happen?"

"Damn right it'll happen, unless we stop them. It'll happen because they're on a mission, and there's nothing more dangerous than someone on a mission."

She should know, Eve thought as she slammed out of the car. She'd been on one since she'd picked up a badge.

When she walked in, it was one of the rare times she wasn't a

"Lieutenant, I'd like to have some idea how many of your guests will be staying overnight."

"They're not guests. They're cops and a kid. Head on up, Peabody, I've got something to do here."

"Yes, sir." And assuming that something was to have her usual pissing match with Summerset, Peabody darted up to check on McNab.

"Give me the status on McNab, and give it in English," Eve demanded.

"There's no change."

"That's not enough. Aren't you supposed to be doing something?"

"The nerves and muscles aren't responding to stimuli."

"Maybe we should've left him in the hospital." She paced the foyer. "Maybe we shouldn't have brought him here."

"The simple truth is there would be little more they could do for him there as can be done here during the first twenty-four hours."

"We're past twenty-four," she snapped. "We're over that, and he should have it back." She stopped herself, pulled it back in, and studied Summerset's cadaverous face. "What are his chances? Don't pretty it up. What are his chances of regaining sensation and mobility?"

"They decrease by the hour now. Rapidly."

He watched Eve close her eyes, turn away. But before she did, he saw the raw grief. "Lieutenant. McNab is young and he's fit. Those qualities play strongly in his favor. Being allowed to work at this time helps keep his mind active and off his difficulties. That can't be discounted."

"They'll bounce him on disability, or stick him in a cube doing drone work. He'll never feel like a cop again once that happens. He prances when he walks," she said quietly. "Now he's stuck in that chair. Goddamn it."

"Arrangements have been made with the clinic in Switzerland. I believe Roarke mentioned this." He waited until she turned around, looked at him again. "They'll take him as early as next week. They have an impressive rate of success in regenerating nerves. He must continue his treatments until-"

"What's their rate?"

"Seventy-two percent with injuries similar to McNab's make a full recovery."

"Seventy-two."

"It's not impossible he'll recover naturally. In an hour. A day."

"But his chances of that suck."

"In a word. I am sorry."

"Yeah, so am I." She started up.

"Lieutenant? He's frightened. He's pretending not to be, but he's a very frightened young man."