He sat back. "I am not cute."
"You are." Her lips curved. "And that scar makes you look very sexy, in a dangerous, De Niro, don't-fuck-with-me kinda way."
It was probably a compliment. "Thank you. So you will not break any more things on the wall? Our damage deposit was considerable, but so is your aim."
"No more breaking things." Something shifted in her eyes. "I promise, from here on out, to do my best for the master and the Kyn." She leaned over and kissed his scarred cheek. "You're a peach, Phil."
When she left, Phillipe wondered if he should relate everything he had said to her to Cyprien. If he had not convinced Alexandra to abide by his master's wishes, then the only one who could stop her was Cyprien.
No, she truly loves him, and she trusts me, he thought, switching on the laptop's screen. She will keep her word.
Chapter 16
Three days after her partner was murdered, Samantha Brown helped carry the casket containing the body of Harry Quinn from the hearse that brought him from the church to his final resting place. As she and five other Homicide detectives bore their burden to the grave, hundreds of other uniformed police officers from Dade, Broward, and Palm Beach counties who lined both sides of the narrow cemetery road snapped to attention.
Harry's widow, Gloria Quinn, stepped forward to place a large sheaf of orange blossoms and lilies beside her husband's casket. She looked at Sam for a moment, as lost and bewildered as any woman who had to face living the rest of her life without the man she loved.
Sam listened to the graveside service, conducted by the department's chaplain.
" 'Finally, all of you be of one mind, having compassion for one another; love as brothers, be tenderhearted, be courteous; not returning evil for evil or reviling for reviling, but on the contrary blessing, knowing that you were called to this, that you may inherit a blessing. For
"He who would love life
And see good days,
Let him refrain his tongue from evil,
And his lips from speaking deceit.
Let him turn away from evil and do good;
Let him seek peace and pursue it.
For the eyes of the LORD are on the righteous,
And His ears are open to their prayers.… " ' "
After the chaplain had finished his final offering, one by one commissioners and captains and other officials who had known Harry stepped up to the grave to offer prayers, words of praise, and short remembrances. Family members had done the same after the funeral Mass at Harry's church.
Captain Garcia and two other department chiefs removed the American flag from Harry's casket and performed the ceremonial folding. The chaplain took Gloria's flowers and laid them in place of the flag. The folded triangle was formally presented to Gloria Quinn by Garcia along with the traditional expression of gratitude for her husband's supreme sacrifice in the line of duty.
Every word struck Sam like a stone thrown from the inside, where no one could see. By the time the service was over, she was battered, but she had one last thing to do before leaving Harry in peace.
She waited until everyone began to leave, and walked forward to place her rookie shield under the huge bouquet of Gloria's flowers. Harry hadn't known her when she'd been a rookie, but he had taught her more than any other cop on the force. She rested her white-gloved hand on the surface of the casket, wishing she had more to leave with him besides an old badge and what was left of her heart.
"I guess I'm supposed to say that you were like the father I never had," she murmured. "But you weren't a dad to me, Harry. You were my partner and my friend. You kept me straight. You showed me how to work a case the right way. You made me see the good in cops, instead of all the bad. You saved me, Harry, because without you, I wouldn't be a cop anymore. I'd have given up and quit."
The funeral director, who had come to stand on the other side of the grave, made a polite coughing sound.
Sam ignored him. "I know what you saw. I'll find him, whoever he was, and he'll pay. I promise you."
"Detective."
She looked up and saw Garcia. "Yeah." She took her hand from the casket and stepped back. The funeral director gave her a small, grateful smile as he flipped the switch that lowered Harry's casket into his grave.
Sam turned and walked down the path through the cemetery toward the parking lot.
Garcia caught up with her. "I'll take you home."
Sam looked over at the people gathered around Gloria at her car. She was white-faced and clutching the flag to her chest. "Gloria—"
"—needs her family now. You haven't slept since the night it happened, have you?"
She wasn't going to think of Lucan. Not here, not now. "I don't need to sleep." She saw the approaching trio of Peterson, Ortenza, and Dwyer and started to move on.
"It wasn't your fault," Garcia said, pacing her.
Oh, yes, it was. In spite of the heat of the day and her heavy dress uniform, she couldn't feel anything but cold. "I'm going back to Infusion tonight. I'll canvass for witnesses again. Someone had to see something." Lucan would help her, too. He had promised.
Garcia shook his head. "Ortenza, Peterson, and the task force from VC have already questioned everyone within a six-block radius."
"Someone might remember something they forgot."
Adam Suarez came to stand beside Garcia. He had his shades on like everyone else, but the rigid set of his face seemed a little kinder than before. "Detective Brown. I'm sorry about your partner."
Everyone said the same thing, but sympathy wouldn't find Harry's killer. Sam would. She didn't need a new partner getting in her way, however. "Are you officially on the squad yet?"
"Suarez will be partnering with Ortenza for a few weeks," the captain told her. "As of today, you're starting three weeks of vacation."
"No, I'm not."
Garcia shrugged. "You'll take the three weeks, or I'll suspend you from duty for the same length of time. Your choice."
Sam curled her hands into fists and pressed them against the flat seams of her trousers. "You can't suspend me. I haven't done anything wrong."
The captain regarded her steadily. "After your behavior at the crime scene, I can suspend you until you undergo a psychiatric and are cleared for duty. That would take about three weeks."
"Take the time, Detective," Suarez said gently. "I'm not going anywhere."
Before Sam could reply, Dwyer paused by them long enough to say, "She's a good partner, Suarez. Just don't lay a finger on her, or she'll scream rape."
Sam didn't scream, didn't make a sound, but she went for Dwyer. Garcia grabbed her just in time to ruin her roundhouse punch, and Suarez's strong arm blocked her second try.
"Get him out of here," Garcia snarled at Peterson, who with Ortenza's help hustled the grinning Dwyer away from Sam. "That's enough, Brown. Pull yourself together, or I will put you in for testing."
Gloria Quinn appeared, sans flag. "You two can let go of her. Samantha. Come on." She held out her hand, and Sam took it. "You're coming home with me."
"Mrs. Quinn," Garcia said, his expression turning blank and polite. "I'm sure Detective Brown wouldn't wish to intrude on your family time—"
"Samantha was my husband's partner, and a good friend to both of us," she coolly informed him. "That makes her part of my family."
Sam's rage faded into humiliation and embarrassment, and as she walked with Gloria to her car, she tried to apologize for her behavior.
"Oh, be quiet," Harry's widow said. "I saw what that grinning, rat-faced Dwyer was up to the minute he made a beeline for you. Harry often told me he regretted being a cop only because he couldn't shoot that nasty piece of work in the head. All I can say is, thank the good Lord I'm not carrying a gun today, or he'd be minus his male parts."
Sam stared at the woman who had always been so gentle, kind, and devout that she never raised her voice or said a bad word about anyone. "Gloria."
The widow produced a grim smile. "Just so you know. Now the only cop I trust to find the scum that killed my Harry is you. You can't do that if you're on suspension for disobeying Garcia's orders or punching out Rat Face."
Sam's shoulders slumped. "If I don't take my vacation, he'll suspend me anyway."
Gloria guided her around a couple of uniformed patrolmen, nodding to them as they passed. "Do you know what they're saying about the motive for Harry's murder, Samantha?"
"Only that he was probably killed for his phone and his wallet." That was the popular theory Peterson and Ortenza were supporting, anyway.
"Tell me, if it was a mugging, why didn't the thief dump Harry on the ground and take the unit? Perfect getaway vehicle; no one would have been looking for it for a few hours. He also left Harry's wedding ring on his finger. I just had the band resized for our anniversary so he could get it on and off without using soap. It's solid gold with three diamonds." Gloria's voice quavered. "One for every time he asked me to marry him before I said yes."
"He still had his service revolver, too." Sam sometimes forgot how smart cops' wives could be. "Has anyone been calling the house?" she asked carefully. "Did you have the feeling that Harry was keeping something from you?"
"The hot dogs he was always sneaking while he was on duty, yes. I knew you'd catch him most of the time. But a threat, or some felon threatening him? Never. Danger to him was danger to me, Samantha. He always told me when he was worried about something." The widow's spine straightened. "So. Now we go back to the house, and you're going to eat, and talk, and share wonderful funny stories about my husband with our family. You can stay over, shower, sleep, and get a fresh start in the morning. How are you going to spend your vacation?"
