Page 46 of The Drowned Woman
“Damn right we need a warrant. Not just for her computer. For all her electronics.”
“I have Krichek working on it. I left Harper at the Falconer to monitor the situation.” Luka had also texted Krichek a list of other high priority items, since he was now in charge of the Saliba investigation until Ahearn appointed someone to fill in for Luka.
“Good. This is going to be a multi-jurisdictional nightmare. Have we heard anything from the NYPD on the courier or the agent?”
“Dominic Massimo. No.”
“Massimo. Right. Does he have an alibi or not? Is he coming in for an interview?”
“I came to you straight away, didn’t want to possibly taint any aspect of the case by conducting a formal interview with Massimo.”
Ahearn nodded. “Right. We’ll get him in tomorrow. In the meantime, you’re off this case, but not suspended or under investigation. As of now, you are a cooperating witness. I want a firewall between you and anything to do with this case—one so thick and impenetrable that no fast-talking defense attorney can tear it down in court, suggest that you were given special treatment or imply that you might be responsible for any of this. Understand, Detective Sergeant?”
His tone made it clear that the discussion was over. Luka stood at attention and nodded. “Yes, sir, Commander. You have my full cooperation.”
“Good. Go home, get your affairs in order before the vultures descend. Then first thing tomorrow, I want you here for an official interview with the assistant DA, myself, and Sergeant McKinley. If you want your union rep or an attorney present, that is certainly your right. But as a witness, not a suspect, I expect you to cooperate fully and answer every question put to you.” His tone made it clear that Luka had no choice. “Will that be a problem, Detective Sergeant?”
“No, sir.” Luka was agreeing to have the most painful time of his life flayed open and dissected, but if he wanted to both save his career and help catch Cherise’s killer, it was his only option.
“Good. Go. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow.” Ahearn waved a hand in dismissal.
Luka hesitated. This case—no, these cases, were spiraling out of control. Exactly what Chaos wanted. Someone had to fight back, look beyond the path the killer was leading them down. “Sir.” He stopped. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission. He cleared his throat. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Luka left Ahearn’s office and headed down the steps to the investigative floor. He needed to start fresh, be objective, follow the facts not his feelings. It was what he’d struggled to do after Cherise’s death, until his overwhelming grief forced him to abandon his poet’s instincts and embrace a cop’s cold, hard logic.
At his office, he packed his personal possessions into a box so that McKinley could use his desk since the ERT leader didn’t have an office on this floor. Luka could run his other open cases from anywhere. Then he dictated his reports for the day, including his final meeting at Risa Saliba’s apartment. It felt surreal, objectively reporting on an event that he’d become personally involved in. It was as if he was talking about someone else’s life, not his own.
He remembered the very first time he’d met Leah Wright. It was a few hours after she’d found her husband murdered; he’d interviewed her in her daughter’s hospital room. At the time he’d marveled at her calm and control, the way she clearly and concisely answered his questions. He’d attributed it to her training as an ER physician, being able to compartmentalize her emotions, but now he truly understood the depth of that dissociation.
More than shock. More than mental control. It was denial. A refusal to accept that life had irrevocably changed. Forever.
He closed the door to his darkened office, carrying with him the only thing of importance: Cherise’s mug.
This feeling, this distance, this numbness, it wasn’t a mere coping mechanism, he realized. It was a matter of survival.
Twenty-Seven
By the time Leah arrived home, the rain was starting to let up, clouds thinning enough for a faint halo of moonlight to shine through. Ruby waited for her at the kitchen table, the aroma of chili scenting the air, a pile of dishes in the sink.
“Where are the kids?” Leah asked as she hung up her coat. She’d left the evidence boxes she’d picked up earlier in the car, not wanting to risk questions from Emily. “It’s too early for bed.”
“Not by my clock.” Ruby took a sip from a rather large glass of wine. “Thank God it’s supposed to stop raining tomorrow. Those two need to get outside and run off some energy.”
Leah debated whether to hear the story of what happened in school from Ruby or go up to question Emily and Nate. Despite Ruby being the adult, she decided the kids’ version would probably be closer to the truth. She crossed behind Ruby, noting from the dirty glasses in the sink that she’d given the kids chocolate milk. Again. While Leah didn’t mind it as an occasional treat, she hated it when Ruby turned choices like that into a good guy–bad guy situation—with Leah, being the responsible adult charged with setting reasonable limits, always coming out the bad guy. “I’m going to check on them.”
“Emily insisted on building a fort in her room, says they’re going to sleep there. Don’t be surprised if it’s a mess and you might not have sheets left on your bed.”
“Right.” Leah walked through the rarely used formal dining room to the foyer inside the front door where the stairs were. Through an arch opposite was the living room with its large fireplace. She glanced in, assessing the damage. Books and art materials, playing cards scattered about. A path created out of pillow and couch cushion stepping stones wove between stuffed animals posed as if they were ready to pounce on unsuspecting travelers.
She smiled at the mess. How could she not find joy in the fact that Emily and Nate could find the energy to harness their imagination, despite the trauma they’d both been through? Messes were easy to clean—two kids’ broken hearts were more difficult to mend. But it was a hopeful start.
She remembered Luka’s worry, urging her to protect Nate. In the moment, she’d assumed he meant physically, was worried that Chaos might target his family. But now she realized he meant more than that. He’d meant protecting Nate from the worry that Luka might be in trouble, avoiding any hint of instability. Last thing Nate needed was to lose someone else he cared about or to have his world come crashing down again.
Leah climbed the stairs, avoiding the creaky third one, and went down the hall to Emily’s room. She’d recently moved out of Leah’s bed, and so far had made it one whole night without waking from the night terrors that had forced Leah to crawl in with her on the narrow lower bunk of Emily’s new bed.
Slowly, Leah opened the door, expecting to surprise Nate and Emily mid-giggle. But the room was silent.
The mattress from the top bunk had been moved to the floor beside the lower bunk and a sheet was tied to the top railing, creating a lean-to. It emitted a soft glow—a combination of Emily’s nightlight and the fairy lights she’d had Leah string around the bunkbed frame.
