Nocturnal (43 page)

She would have him banned from being a cop? She had to be bluffing. “Chief, this vigilante is a
murderer
. He’s got to pay. You have to see that!”

Pookie crossed his arms and shook his head. “You know that Oscar Woody’s
real
killer is still out there. So is the killer of Jay Parlar and Susan Panos. You
can’t
tell us you’re just going to wrap this up.”

Zou leaned closer. Her eyes seemed to soften a little. “Men, I’m asking you to let this go. I can’t tell you why, but this is the best thing for the city. Trust me.”

Bryan threw up his hands. “
Trust
you?” Trust you to handle a case with those symbols like the way you handled the Golden Gate Slasher?”

He regretted the words as soon as he said them. He’d played a card they needed to keep close to the vest.

The softness slowly faded from her eyes, replaced by her normal,
stone-cold expression. “The board might dig into your older incidents,” she said. “What if there was a mistake in the review of one of your prior shootings, and they uncover some new evidence? Why, you could wind up in prison.”

Prison? He looked at her, waiting for her to flinch, to fold — but her expression didn’t change. Zou meant every word she said.

All this time, Bryan and Pookie had been playing checkers while Zou had been playing chess. Metz’s flawless reputation would let him create any evidence Zou needed. In trial, any district attorney would paint Bryan as a power-mad cop, killing at will. Even if that wasn’t enough for a jury to convict, Bryan’s career would be over.

A hot, sudden rage swept over him, the likes of which he’d never felt anywhere outside of his fucked-up dreams. He’d hurt people before, sure, but he’d never
wanted
to hurt them. Now, however, he felt the urge to smash her face in, knew how good it would feel to grab her throat, to
squeeze
, to—

Pookie’s strong hand gripped the back of his right arm, fingers and thumb digging into his biceps. The urge faded away. Bryan blinked in shock — had he really been thinking such horrible thoughts?

“We understand,” Pookie said. “Chief, you’ve made your position clear. And our positions, apparently. If there won’t be anything else?”

Zou flicked her hand toward the door. “Go.”

Bryan stumbled when Pookie yanked him around the table and through the door. The larger autopsy room was empty save for the five white tables. Pookie kept squeezing, kept pulling, dragging Bryan into the administration area and toward the main door.

“Pooks, you want to ease up on—”

Pookie suddenly stopped and turned. His nose was only an inch from Bryan’s. His eyes went wide with anger and frustration.

“Bryan, not another word until we get where we’re going, you got it?”

His partner was furious, maybe even madder than Bryan was if such a thing was possible. He’d never seen Pookie like this.

“Sure,” Bryan said. “Where are we going?”

“We’re making a social call. Time to gather the troops.”

E
mma ran to the apartment door, skidding across the hardwood floor as she slid to a stop. She jammed her nose at the base of the door, her tail moving faster than her butt could manage. Usually, the dog barked like mad when someone knocked — but not when that someone was Bryan.

Robin opened her apartment door to a bleary-eyed Pookie and an intensely focused Bryan. She’d seen Bryan like that before, usually on a big case, usually when he felt he was tightening the noose on a suspect. Emma barked once at Pookie, then alternately turned in circles and threw herself against Bryan’s legs.

Bryan reached down and picked the dog up, holding her under the front arms. Her rear legs dangled, unmoving. The position looked uncomfortable, but he’d always held Emma that way and she didn’t seem to mind. Her tail moved a mile a minute and her tongue flicked at Bryan’s face.

“Oh, knock it off, Emma-Boo,” Bryan said, turning his face away. “I missed you, too.”

Pookie stepped in and gave Robin a hug. “Robin Bo-Bobbin, how are ya?”

“I have no idea how I am,” she said. “And I still don’t know what happened in the morgue.” She leaned in and spoke quietly: “John’s already here. He’s pretty upset.”

Pookie sighed. “Yeah, I’m sure he is. I didn’t give him much of a choice, you know? I bet he hasn’t been out at night in six years.”

Bryan let out a huff of disgust, set Emma down and walked into the dining room.

Was he really that insensitive to John’s phobia? “Pooks, what’s Bryan’s problem?”

“Mister Fearless doesn’t have much tolerance for us mere mortals.”

Robin crossed her arms. She didn’t like the thought of Bryan being that callous. “Well,
Mister Fearless
seems to have developed some fears of his own.”

Pookie nodded. “That he has, my dear. You tell John about the Zed chromosome like I asked?”

“I did. I’m not sure if he believes me. I think he’s waiting for a punch line or something.”

“Yeah, it’s a regular laugh-riot,” Pookie said. “I think we should get this party started.” He held out a hand, gesturing
ladies first
.

Robin walked into the dining room. Bryan was already seated at the table, as was John Smith. Emma’s front paws were on Bryan’s thigh, and she kept pointing her nose up to kiss his face. Bryan basically ignored it, letting the dog do her worst. John still hadn’t taken off his dark-purple motorcycle jacket. His chin hung down to his chest, and his helmet was right next to his chair as if he wanted to keep it close in case he needed a quick getaway.

Pookie sat, as did Robin. She suddenly realized how messy the apartment looked — dishes in the sink, dog hair on the carpet. She knew she had more important things to worry about at the moment, but still … Bryan’s first visit here in six months, and she hadn’t had time to pick up for him. He was so focused, however, she probably could have painted the place pink for all he’d notice.

“Robin,” Pookie said. “You got any beer?”

“It’s three in the morning.”

He smiled. “It’s happy hour somewhere.”

Bryan stood and walked into the open kitchen. He grabbed a bottle opener out of a kitchen drawer, then reached into the fridge and came out with four Stellas. He opened the beers, passed them around before he sat down again. He did all this with automatic ease, like he’d never moved out at all.

“Zou’s crooked,” he said. “We know it for sure.”

John lifted his head and crossed his arms, making his leather sleeves creak. “What,
exactly
, do we know?”

Bryan looked at Pookie.

Pookie shrugged. “Tell ’em. They might as well know what we’re asking of them.”

Robin listened as Bryan talked about what had gone down in the private autopsy room. The more he said, the angrier she became. When he finished, Robin had an urge to find Chief Zou and punch her right in the nose.

“So she used the word
prison
?” Robin said. “That was her actual word?”

Bryan nodded. “Not a lot of gray area.”

Robin believed Bryan and Pookie, and yet … the concept of Chief Zou threatening her own people seemed beyond the realm of plausibility. “Can she do that? Could she cook the books and get you accused of something?”

Pookie laughed and shook his head. “Hey, Robin, you like that guy Metz?”

She nodded.

“So do DAs, judges and juries,” he said. “What do you think will happen if the Silver Eagle delivers evidence that implicates Bryan?”

Robin said nothing. She wanted to say
Metz would never do something like that
, but after what she’d seen in the morgue a few hours earlier, she wasn’t sure.

John nodded. “Pookie’s right about that. Heck, Metz could get Jesus thrown in jail. All right, Terminator, looks like you’re screwed if you don’t back off. So back off.”

Bryan shook his head. “Vigilantes don’t get to decide who lives and who dies. I don’t care if it sounds corny — I took an oath to uphold the law, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

She knew that was no idle promise. The look in his eyes … he was going after the chief of police, the mayor of San Francisco, the chief medical examiner and anyone else who had helped them. He wanted it so bad she could almost see it burning off of him like a corona. What was it about this case that made it so deeply personal to him?

Hadn’t she put her career in jeopardy enough for one night? She could just ask them to leave. Robin had worked her ass off for years; if that effort wasn’t already lost, it surely would be if she helped Bryan and Pookie go after Zou. Not just Zou … they would be going after Metz as well. Metz, her mentor, her friend. But if Zou and Metz
were
crooked, if they were covering up murders, how could Robin ignore that?

“Hypothetically, let’s say John and I help you,” she said. “What would you need from us?”

Bryan again looked to Pookie. Pookie leaned forward, spoke directly to John.

“Mister Burns, we need your help, but it doesn’t look like Zou knows you’re involved yet. You back out now, you’re probably fine. But if you keep poking your long, hooked nose into things, Zou will be on you like ugly on a baboon’s ass.”

John stared back, thinking. “What happens if she finds out I’m helping you guys?”

“I think you lose your privileged position in the Gang Task Force,” Pookie said. “She might make you walk a beat in the ’Loin.”

Robin hissed in a breath. The Tenderloin was where John had been shot.

John looked down to the table. “I have trouble even leaving my apartment,” he said. “Took everything I had just to drive here. If it wasn’t for Zou, I wouldn’t even be a cop anymore.”

Robin’s heart broke for the man. Pookie and Bryan were asking him to put everything on the line against a woman who had backed him in his time of need.

John sighed and nodded. “I owe her, but I won’t stand behind her if she’s breaking the law. I’ll help.”

Bryan smiled as if he were pleasantly surprised. He tipped the neck of his beer bottle toward John. John raised his own bottle and they clinked — the equivalent of a blood contract in man speak, apparently.

Robin felt a bit of shame. She was a doctor; she could get a job anywhere. If this went wrong, John’s career would be over, and yet he was willing to do the right thing. She had to step up.

“I’m in,” she said.

Bryan leaned back. “Robin, we just need to bounce ideas off you. It’s okay. You don’t need to get involved.”

Her feelings of shame shifted to anger — she’d forgotten about Bryan’s misplaced sense of chivalry. John got a beer clink, but Robin wasn’t valued enough to help with something this important?

“Getting involved is
my
decision, not yours,” she said. “If Zou is playing judge, jury and executioner, then … well then fuck her right in her fucking fucker.”

Bryan glared at her, but John started giggling, a soundless thing that only moved his hunched shoulders.

Pookie raised his eyebrows. “Hey there, sailor, you just arrive on shore leave or something?”

Robin felt her face flush red — they were
laughing
at her? “You guys swear all the time.”

Pookie nodded. “Yes, but we’re trained professionals. Dropping three f-bombs in one sentence is punching above your weight class.”

Bryan wasn’t laughing. He shook his head. “Robin, Zou is done with warnings. Things might get physical from here on out, and I can’t let you be part of this.”

“You
can’t let me
? Oh, I’m sorry, should I be wearing my burqua and averting my gaze from you brave men? Or maybe can I run to my bedroom, toss on a nice gingham dress and bake all you brave warriors some cookies? Because that’s where women belong, right? In the kitchen?”

The room suddenly felt uncomfortable. Bryan just wanted to protect her, sure, but he didn’t
own
her. Robin was the only one who understood the depth and breadth of the Zed discovery, and how that information might help catch the other killers.

“Well then,” she said, “since you three wild stallions are going to play lone wolf, I guess you don’t need to know what I’ve figured out in my pretty little head.”

“Hold on there,” Pookie said. “First, that’s two animal metaphors in one sentence. I think that’s against union regulations. Second, I am also not wearing a burqua, so Bryan doesn’t speak for me. I’d find your help to be most excellent.”

Bryan turned on him. “Do you mind, Pooks? This shit is going to get bad. You want Robin getting hurt?”

Pookie shrugged. “Of course I don’t want her hurt, but she’s a big girl. She’s smart enough to understand the risks.”

Robin gave Pookie a single nod. “Thank you, oh elevated one.”

Pookie winked. “Plus, you got a hot ass. What cop team is complete without a hot ass?”

Bryan stared at her. He chewed on his lower lip for a moment, then nodded to Robin’s right. “That purse on your chair, you take that to work today?”

She looked down at it, then understood what he was saying. “Yes, dear, that is my purse and yes,
dear
, I am packing heat.”

“Show me.”

God, this man could be infuriating. She unhooked her purse, reached in and pulled out her Kel-Tec P-3AT handgun. Bryan had given it to her on their third date. Nothing spells love like a subcompact .380. The gun weighed only half a pound and was just over five inches long. She could even get decked out for an evening on the town and put the weapon in a clutch, the perfect accessory for the nightclubbing girl on the go.

She ejected the magazine, then pulled back the slide to pop out the round. She held the weapon butt-first and offered it to Bryan.

“Happy?”

He looked at the weapon, but didn’t take it. “Happy that you’re armed, yes. I’m not happy that this could put you in harm’s way. But I guess you’re going to do what you’re going to do, so can we at least
try
to keep you off Zou’s radar?”

Robin remembered how Zou had been standing right behind her, and how that had scared her silly. Staying off of Zou’s radar sounded like an excellent idea.

“Yes, Daddy, I promise to be a good girl.”

“Nice,” Pookie said. “Now that we’re done with invitations, Robin, do you think you could say
daddy
again? I think I jizzed in my pants a little.”