Nikki reflected on her breakfast, Yarborough spoke her thoughts. “Expect a call from Zachary Hamner. Oh, I see from your face he already has. The Hammer’s not a force for bad, but watch your back. You will be quoted.” She laughed and added, “The damn thing is, he quotes accurately, so be double warned.”
Nikki nodded and thought, The Hammer, huh? Perfect.
“I have my agenda, too, I just don’t pretend otherwise. Know why transparency’s a beautiful thing? Transparency means no shame. So I’ll be shameless. There’s a future up the ranks for a smart detective who has her heart in the right place. Prepare yourself, I might even court you to work with me.”
This woman, as powerful and as busy as she was, had the quality of making Nikki feel like she was the only one on her mind that day. Heat wasn’t naïve; of course the deputy commissioner was pushing an agenda, same as The Hammer had, but rather than feeling wary, Nikki felt engaged, energized. These were the same qualities of leadership that had made Yarborough a dot-com fortune years before in private industry. Heat said, “I’m certainly open to seeing where this all goes. Meantime, I’m flattered.”
“This isn’t just because you scored a ninety-eight. I’ve had my eye on you since your magazine article. We are two women with a lot in common.” She read Nikki’s expression and said, “I know, I know, you’re a cop, and I’m a civilian—and an administrator, at that—but where I really connected with you in that article was when I read we are both victims of family murders.” Heat noticed she used the present tense, a sign of one who knows the pain that never heals.
Looking at Phyllis Yarborough, Nikki found herself peering into a mirror image that bore the imprint of a distant agony. The kindred spirits out there never fail to recognize the sear of fate in each other and in it an invisible brand marking the nexus of their upended lives. For Nikki, it had been her mother, stabbed to death a decade before. Yarborough’s loss was her only daughter back in 2002; roofied, raped, beaten, and dumped on a beach in Bermuda, where she had been on college Spring Break. Everyone knew the story. It was inescapable in the mainstream news and then milked beyond its shelf life by the tabloids long after the coed’s killer confessed and went to prison for life.
Nikki broke the brief silence with an affirming smile. “Yet we go on.”
The deputy commissioner’s face brightened. “Yes, we do.” And then she looked deeply into Nikki, as if taking her measure. “It drives you, doesn’t it? Thinking about the killer?”
Heat said, “I wonder about him, if that’s what you mean. Who? Why?”
“Do you want revenge?”
“I did.” Nikki had given it lots of thought over the years, and said, “Now it’s not so much revenge as justice. Or maybe closure. What about you?”
“Academic. My accounts are settled. But let me tell you what I’ve learned. Hopefully, it helps you.” She leaned closer to Nikki and said, “There is justice. But there is no such thing as closure.” Then she made an exaggerated show of looking at her watch. “Well now. I’m ten seconds away from not being a woman of my word.” She rose, and as Nikki stood, they shook hands again. “Kick some butt out there today, Nikki Heat.”
“I will. And a pleasure meeting you, Deputy Commissioner.”
“Phyllis. And let’s make sure this is just our first meeting.”
Heat left One Police Plaza with the second business card she had been given in a half hour. It felt like the one she would actually keep handy.
----
A firefighter came out of the Engine 205 station house on Middaugh Street in Brooklyn Heights and trotted, hunched against the frozen rain, to his pickup truck at the curb. Detective Raley said, “Whoa, whoa, hold up, here. Guy looks like he’s pulling out.”
Detective Ochoa gave the Roach Coach some brakes and turned the rearview mirror so he could see
Nikki nodded and thought, The Hammer, huh? Perfect.
“I have my agenda, too, I just don’t pretend otherwise. Know why transparency’s a beautiful thing? Transparency means no shame. So I’ll be shameless. There’s a future up the ranks for a smart detective who has her heart in the right place. Prepare yourself, I might even court you to work with me.”
This woman, as powerful and as busy as she was, had the quality of making Nikki feel like she was the only one on her mind that day. Heat wasn’t naïve; of course the deputy commissioner was pushing an agenda, same as The Hammer had, but rather than feeling wary, Nikki felt engaged, energized. These were the same qualities of leadership that had made Yarborough a dot-com fortune years before in private industry. Heat said, “I’m certainly open to seeing where this all goes. Meantime, I’m flattered.”
“This isn’t just because you scored a ninety-eight. I’ve had my eye on you since your magazine article. We are two women with a lot in common.” She read Nikki’s expression and said, “I know, I know, you’re a cop, and I’m a civilian—and an administrator, at that—but where I really connected with you in that article was when I read we are both victims of family murders.” Heat noticed she used the present tense, a sign of one who knows the pain that never heals.
Looking at Phyllis Yarborough, Nikki found herself peering into a mirror image that bore the imprint of a distant agony. The kindred spirits out there never fail to recognize the sear of fate in each other and in it an invisible brand marking the nexus of their upended lives. For Nikki, it had been her mother, stabbed to death a decade before. Yarborough’s loss was her only daughter back in 2002; roofied, raped, beaten, and dumped on a beach in Bermuda, where she had been on college Spring Break. Everyone knew the story. It was inescapable in the mainstream news and then milked beyond its shelf life by the tabloids long after the coed’s killer confessed and went to prison for life.
Nikki broke the brief silence with an affirming smile. “Yet we go on.”
The deputy commissioner’s face brightened. “Yes, we do.” And then she looked deeply into Nikki, as if taking her measure. “It drives you, doesn’t it? Thinking about the killer?”
Heat said, “I wonder about him, if that’s what you mean. Who? Why?”
“Do you want revenge?”
“I did.” Nikki had given it lots of thought over the years, and said, “Now it’s not so much revenge as justice. Or maybe closure. What about you?”
“Academic. My accounts are settled. But let me tell you what I’ve learned. Hopefully, it helps you.” She leaned closer to Nikki and said, “There is justice. But there is no such thing as closure.” Then she made an exaggerated show of looking at her watch. “Well now. I’m ten seconds away from not being a woman of my word.” She rose, and as Nikki stood, they shook hands again. “Kick some butt out there today, Nikki Heat.”
“I will. And a pleasure meeting you, Deputy Commissioner.”
“Phyllis. And let’s make sure this is just our first meeting.”
Heat left One Police Plaza with the second business card she had been given in a half hour. It felt like the one she would actually keep handy.
----
A firefighter came out of the Engine 205 station house on Middaugh Street in Brooklyn Heights and trotted, hunched against the frozen rain, to his pickup truck at the curb. Detective Raley said, “Whoa, whoa, hold up, here. Guy looks like he’s pulling out.”
Detective Ochoa gave the Roach Coach some brakes and turned the rearview mirror so he could see
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