Purity in Death

In the morning, Eve put in a call to Chief Medical Examiner Morris and tried not to sound too snarly when she was forced to leave a message on his voice mail. If necessary, she'd make time to go down to the morgue and speak with him personally.

In fact, that was just what she was going to do-and get another look at Cogburn's body.

As much at it irked, she put a call into Don Webster in Internal Affairs. This time she didn't bother to play down the a

"The Rat Squad's got some cushy hours. Us real cops are already on duty. Give me a call, Webster, when you toddle in for your day of riding the desk and sniffing up dirt on fellow officers."

Probably not smart to a

"Lieutenant." Cap in hand, Trueheart stood in her doorway. "You sent for me."

"That's right, Trueheart. Come in. Close the door."

She wasn't crossing any lines by calling him to her office prior to Testing. She was primary on the case.

That was her story, she thought, and she was sticking to it.

"Sit down, Trueheart."

He looked every bit as pale and hollow-eyed as she'd expected. Somehow he managed to stay at attention even seated. She programmed her AutoChef for two coffees, black, whether he wanted one or not.

"Rough night?"

"Yes, sir."

"You're going to have a rougher day. Testing's no walk on the beach."

"No, sir. I've heard."

"You better be up for it. Look at me when I speak to you, Officer." She snapped it out, watched his head come up and his weary eyes focus. "You put on the uniform, you pick up the badge, you holster the weapon and you take on everything that means. Was your termination of Louis K. Cogburn justifiable?"

"I don't-"

"Yes or no. There's no middle here, no qualifications. Your gut, Trueheart. Was the deployment of your weapon necessary?"

"Yes, sir."

"If you walked into the same situation today, would you again deploy your weapon?"

He shuddered, but he nodded. "Yes, sir."

"That's the core of it." She passed him the coffee. "You hold on to the core of it, you'll get through the rest. Don't try to out-think Testing. You haven't got the brass for it yet. Answer correctly, answer truthfully. And however they twist the question of justification, you deployed your weapon justifiably, to preserve the life of a civilian and your own."

"Yes, sir."

"Jesus, Trueheart, you're an agreeable bastard. At what distance were you from the subject when you deployed?"

"I think-"

"Don't think. How far?"

"Six feet, maybe five and a half."

"How many jolts did you give him?"

"Two."

"Did your weapon, at any time during the altercation, come in direct contact with the subject?"

"Contact?" He looked baffled for a moment. "Oh, no, sir. I was down and he was moving away when I deployed. Then he turned, moving toward me when I deployed the second time."

"What did you do with the drop piece?"

"The…" Pure shock jolted over his face. She watched it turn pink with what could only be indignation. "Sir, I had no secondary weapon, nor do I own one. I had only the street stu

"Save it." She leaned back. "If they don't ask you that question in Testing, I'll be surprised. You can bet your ass IAB will ask it. And they'll push. So save the moral outrage for them. Don't you drink coffee, Trueheart?"

"Yes, sir." He looked miserably into the cup, then lifted it, sipped. His breath sucked in. "This isn't coffee."

"Yeah, it is. It'sreal coffee. Got a lot more going for it than that veggie crap, doesn't it? You could use the extra kick today. Listen to me, Troy. You're a good cop and with some seasoning you'll be a better one. Terminations aren't supposed to be easy. We shouldn't be able to shrug off the taking of any life like it was nothing or we skirt too close to being what we're here to put away."

"I wish… I wish there'd been another way."

"There wasn't, and don't forget that. It's okay to be sorry, even a little guilty. But it's not okay to feel anything less than absolutely confident that you did what had to be done given the circumstances. You let them see you're not sure, and they'll rip you up like a leopard does a gazelle."

"I had to do it." He held the coffee tight in both hands as if he were afraid it would jump out of his grip. "Lieutenant, I played it in my head a hundred different ways last night. I couldn't have done anything else. He'd have killed that woman. He'd probably have killed me and anyone else who got in the way. But I made mistakes. I should've called for backup before entering the building. I should have called it in to Dispatch instead of tagging you."

"Yeah, those are mistakes." She nodded, pleased he'd thought it through, picked it apart. "Neither of which would have changed the termination. But they were mistakes that may cost you a little shine. Why didn't you call for backup?"

"I reacted. The woman appeared to be in immediate jeopardy. I did shout orders for someone to call nine-eleven once I was inside, but I should have done so personally. If I'd been unsuccessful in stopping the perpetrator, had no backup en route, more lives could have been lost."

"Good. Lesson learned. Why did you call me instead of Dispatch?"

"I was… Lieutenant, I wasn't thinking straight. I realized both men were dead, that I had terminated the assailant, and I-"

"You were disoriented from the blows you received," she said briskly. "You had some concerns that you might lose consciousness. Your immediate thought was to report the homicide and the termination, and you did so by contacting the Homicide lieutenant you have worked with in the past. Are you getting this, Trueheart?"

"Yes, sir."

"You were in physical and mental distress. The lieutenant, to whom you relayed your situation, ordered you to secure the scene and stand until her arrival. You did so."

"It wasn't procedure."

"No, but it'll hold. Be sure you do. I didn't bring you in off sidewalk detail to watch you wash out."

"I'll get mandatory thirty-day suspension."

"Possibly. Probably."

"I can take it. I don't want to lose my badge."

"You're not going to lose your badge. Report to Testing, Officer Trueheart." She got to her feet. "And show them what you're made of."

She put in another nagging call to Morris, then decided to swing into EDD before she nabbed Peabody and headed to the morgue.

EDD always baffled her. How anybody got anything done when they were all pacing around talking on headsets or burrowed in cubes arguing with computers was beyond her.

And they rarely dressed like cops. McNab, the ski

She retreated as quickly as possible into Feeney's dull, workingman's office.

His door was open. He rarely shut it, even when he was, as now, scouring a subordinate over some screw-up.

"You think the units in here are for your amusement and entertainment, Halloway? You figure you can kick back and play a little Space Crusader on the taxpayers' nickel?"

"No, sir, Captain, I wasn't-"

"This department isn't your frigging toy box."

"Captain, it was my lunch break and-"

"You got time for lunch?" Feeney's basset hound face registered shock, amazement, and a secret joy. "Well, that's fascinating, Halloway. I can promise you for the next little while lunch breaks are going to be a fond, fond memory. You may not have noticed, since you've been so busy saving the virtual universe while you tuck into a sandwich, but we're jammed in here. Crime's soaring like the temps out there, and we, being duly sworn servants of the law, have to buckle our asses in and save the city before we move on to space and goddamn alien invaders. I want a report on the Dubreck hacker on my desk in thirty."