rundown of the various assignments we have laid out. Jenny gives a nod of approval when she’s done. “Sounds good. I’ll get copies of everything we have so far put together for you. Charlie, can you call CSU and give them a heads-up?”
“Yep.”
“Who has the keys to her apartment?” I ask.
Jenny picks up an envelope on the side of her desk and hands it to Leo. “They’re in there. Don’t worry about contaminating the scene. Evidence collection is done. The address is the one on the front of the envelope. See Sergeant Bixby at the desk. He can get you a ride.”
Leo looks at me, eyebrows raised, and I nod, sending him on his way. I catch Jenny’s eye. “Can we go somewhere? I’d like to talk to you about your impressions of the scene.”
“Sure. You and I can go and get a cup of coffee. Charlie can set everyone up here, right, Charlie?”
“Yep.”
“That would be great.”
“Is your medical examiner any good?” James asks. Of course, since it’s James, it doesn’t come out as a harmless question but a challenge. Jenny frowns at him.
“According to Quantico she is. Why—have you heard differently?”
He waves his hand at her, a gesture of dismissal. “Just tell me how I can hook up with her, Detective. Save the sarcasm.”
S H A D O W M A N
71
Jenny’s eyebrows shoot up, and I see her eyes cloud over. She glances at me, and perhaps it’s the look of anger she sees on my face, directed at James, that pacifies her. “Talk to Charlie.” Her voice is tight and terse. It has no effect on James. He turns away from her without a glance back. I touch her elbow. “Let’s get out of here.”
She shoots one last brooding look at James before nodding. We head toward the precinct door.
“Is he always such a dick?” she asks as we’re walking down the front steps.
“Oh yeah. The word was invented for him.”
We only have to walk a block to reach the coffee shop, something San Francisco seems to have as many of as Seattle. It’s a mom-and-pop place, not a franchise, with a relaxed, earthy feel to it. I order a café
mocha. Jenny gets some hot tea. We settle down at a table next to the window and enjoy not talking for a moment. Sipping at our respective cups. The mocha is exquisite. Exquisite enough, I realize, for me to enjoy it, even with all the death around me. I look outside at the city passing by. San Francisco has always intrigued me. It’s the New York of the West Coast. Cosmopolitan, with European influences, it has its own charm and character. I can usually tell if someone is from San Francisco by their clothing. It’s one of the few places on the West Coast where you see wool trench coats and hats, berets and leather gloves. Stylish. The day outside is nice; San Francisco can tend to run chilly, but today the sun is out, and the weather hovers in the low seventies. A scorcher by this city’s standards. Jenny puts down her tea and runs a finger around the rim of the cup. She seems thoughtful. “I was surprised to see you here. Even more surprised to find out you’re not heading up your team.”
I look over my cup at her. “That was the deal. Annie King was a friend of mine, Jenny. I have to stay on the periphery of this. At least officially. Besides, I’m not ready to run NCAVC Coord again, not yet.”
Her gaze at me reveals nothing, but neither does it judge. “Not ready as in you say you’re not ready, or the Bureau says it?”
“It’s me saying it.”
72
C O D Y M C F A D Y E N
“So . . . don’t be offended, Smoky, but if that’s true, how did you even get authorization to come up here? I don’t think my Captain would have let me, in a similar situation.”
I explain to her about the changes that I had felt in myself by virtue of connecting back up with my team. “It seems to be good therapy for me right now. I guess the Assistant Director saw it that way too.”
Jenny is silent for a moment before speaking. “Smoky, you and I are friends. We don’t
“Yep.”
“Who has the keys to her apartment?” I ask.
Jenny picks up an envelope on the side of her desk and hands it to Leo. “They’re in there. Don’t worry about contaminating the scene. Evidence collection is done. The address is the one on the front of the envelope. See Sergeant Bixby at the desk. He can get you a ride.”
Leo looks at me, eyebrows raised, and I nod, sending him on his way. I catch Jenny’s eye. “Can we go somewhere? I’d like to talk to you about your impressions of the scene.”
“Sure. You and I can go and get a cup of coffee. Charlie can set everyone up here, right, Charlie?”
“Yep.”
“That would be great.”
“Is your medical examiner any good?” James asks. Of course, since it’s James, it doesn’t come out as a harmless question but a challenge. Jenny frowns at him.
“According to Quantico she is. Why—have you heard differently?”
He waves his hand at her, a gesture of dismissal. “Just tell me how I can hook up with her, Detective. Save the sarcasm.”
S H A D O W M A N
71
Jenny’s eyebrows shoot up, and I see her eyes cloud over. She glances at me, and perhaps it’s the look of anger she sees on my face, directed at James, that pacifies her. “Talk to Charlie.” Her voice is tight and terse. It has no effect on James. He turns away from her without a glance back. I touch her elbow. “Let’s get out of here.”
She shoots one last brooding look at James before nodding. We head toward the precinct door.
“Is he always such a dick?” she asks as we’re walking down the front steps.
“Oh yeah. The word was invented for him.”
We only have to walk a block to reach the coffee shop, something San Francisco seems to have as many of as Seattle. It’s a mom-and-pop place, not a franchise, with a relaxed, earthy feel to it. I order a café
mocha. Jenny gets some hot tea. We settle down at a table next to the window and enjoy not talking for a moment. Sipping at our respective cups. The mocha is exquisite. Exquisite enough, I realize, for me to enjoy it, even with all the death around me. I look outside at the city passing by. San Francisco has always intrigued me. It’s the New York of the West Coast. Cosmopolitan, with European influences, it has its own charm and character. I can usually tell if someone is from San Francisco by their clothing. It’s one of the few places on the West Coast where you see wool trench coats and hats, berets and leather gloves. Stylish. The day outside is nice; San Francisco can tend to run chilly, but today the sun is out, and the weather hovers in the low seventies. A scorcher by this city’s standards. Jenny puts down her tea and runs a finger around the rim of the cup. She seems thoughtful. “I was surprised to see you here. Even more surprised to find out you’re not heading up your team.”
I look over my cup at her. “That was the deal. Annie King was a friend of mine, Jenny. I have to stay on the periphery of this. At least officially. Besides, I’m not ready to run NCAVC Coord again, not yet.”
Her gaze at me reveals nothing, but neither does it judge. “Not ready as in you say you’re not ready, or the Bureau says it?”
“It’s me saying it.”
72
C O D Y M C F A D Y E N
“So . . . don’t be offended, Smoky, but if that’s true, how did you even get authorization to come up here? I don’t think my Captain would have let me, in a similar situation.”
I explain to her about the changes that I had felt in myself by virtue of connecting back up with my team. “It seems to be good therapy for me right now. I guess the Assistant Director saw it that way too.”
Jenny is silent for a moment before speaking. “Smoky, you and I are friends. We don’t
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