44

Sonora slopped coffee into her lipstick-stained mug. She was late, the task force had already assembled. Her phone rang before she could get away from her desk. Sonora sighed and picked it up.

“Hey, girlfriend, how’s the kids?”

Sonora sat back down. Gritted her teeth. “You listen to me—”

“No, you. I’ll make you’uns a deal. Leave Keaton alone, I’ll leave them alone. Think about it.”

The line went dead. Sonora’s palms were slippery on the receiver, and the phone smacked hard on the desk when she lost her grip. She took a breath, hung the phone up gently. Closed her eyes, opened them. Took a notepad off her desk and headed for her meeting.

They were watching a videotape of the latest press conference Sonora squinted at the screen, wondering if it was her imagination, or if she was showing just a hint of double chin.

Gruber looked up. “That’s a nice tie, Sonora, but what happened to the one with the catsup on it?”

Crick shushed him. “Watch for the next part, it’s good.”

On-screen, Sonora cocked her head to one side and told the reporters that the investigation was moving forward swiftly and it was only a matter of time. Yes, she was the case detective and would make the arrest herself. The DA’s office was waiting for lab results, merely a formality. They had been lucky with witnesses, and, quite frankly, the killer had made a number of careless mistakes.

If the killer wanted to talk, Sonora was certainly available, and she gave her number. It would be in the perpetrator’s best interests to turn herself in. She would be handled sympathetically, the police department would see that she got the proper help, and a lawyer would be provided free of charge.

Yes, the perp was a woman, a sad case, very disturbed, pathetic really, not particularly bright.

The room got quiet. Normally, this last would bring a howl of laughter and the theory that Sonora would be the next victim. Sonora rubbed her eyes and wished she was as close to arrest and wrap-up as the confident woman on-screen.

“Good job, Sonora,” Crick said.

Gruber crossed a heavy foot over one knee. “Yeah, too good. I don’t like what happened at Sonora’s house this morning, kids and all. I think you’re throwing her out there, sir, and look what we get.”

“Action, reaction,” Crick said.

Sonora felt her face get warm and pink.

“Yeah, with Sonora’s neck on the line.” This last from Molliter.

Sonora was surprised. Then wary. Was this camaraderie, or over-protection? Did it matter, with her children caught in the middle? What would they say if they knew where she’d spent the night?

Crick looked at Sonora. “CSU get anything?”

“Not a lot. Partial right thumb on my daughter’s window. Toe smear in the mud. Terry also told me Sheree La Fontaine’s prints don’t match the one they took off the Polaroid that Flash sent to Keaton Daniels.” Sonora did not look at Molliter.

Sanders tapped her chin. “Sir, I was wondering if we could utilize the feds on this.”

Gruber hooted with laughter. “Utilize the feds? That’s sweet, honey. Then maybe we can teach the Aryan brothers to sing ‘We Shall Overcome.’”

Sonora rubbed her eyes, kept her voice low-key. “We’ve asked for help in that quarter, Sanders, but it’s just a formality. Leave no stone unturned, you know? FBI doesn’t come in unless there’s a signed warrant with the suspect’s name.”

“Yeah, they’re happy to take the collar, long’s they don’t have to put out.”

Molliter folded his arms. He looked unhappy. “Look, Sonora, maybe you’re overdoing it on this Daniels guy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She may just move on to the next victim.”

“I think it’s pretty clear she’s fixated,” Sam said.

Sonora kept her mouth shut. Dangerous ground.

Gruber waved a hand. “Okay, but why has she got this thing with Sonora? It’s almost like they’re rivals or girlfriends or something. I mean, Sonora’s a cop—”

“I told you, it’s catch-me-if-you-can,” Sonora said. “It happens.”

Crick folded his arms. “It happens when the perp is flipping out. Which makes her that much more dangerous.” He pointed at Sonora. “You still want to go to Atlanta?”

“Sir?”

“Been talking to your buddy down there, Bonheur. Selma Yorke’s name showed up in the file of possibles they put together after the attack on James Selby.”

Sam put a hand on Sonora’s shoulder. “Here we go, darlin’. Here we go.”

“Blair,” Crick said. “About what I said earlier—action, reaction. What do you think set her off?”

Sonora swallowed. “TV interview, obviously, sir.” Bad policewoman, she thought. Her chest was tight. Was that what guilt felt like? Had Zack felt this way when he cheated?

Crick was nodding. “What would you say to one of those radio call-in things? Think she could resist talking to you?”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t like this.”

“We’ll have somebody with her kids,” Crick said.

Sonora cleared her throat. “It’s just—”

“Just what? If she reacts that much to a taped interview, I think she’ll go nuts to talk to you live.”

“Talking on the radio would make me nervous, sir.”

“Get over it, Blair.”