“Listen, Cap—”
“I’m sorry, Detective,” Ian Bavitz snapped, “but what part of ‘in my office’ did you not understand?”
The bullpen fell silent. Every cop in earshot looked their way. Jake, face burning from the sudden attention, raised his hands in surrender and followed Amy into their captain’s office. Ian fell in behind them and slammed the door so hard, it knocked the pictures on the wall askew.
Ian gestured to the two chairs opposite his desk. “Sit.”
Once they complied, Ian rounded the desk and dropped heavily into his own chair.
“Now,” he said, “you wanna tell me how the hell you could’ve let this happen?”
In the bullpen, the captain’s indignation had boiled over, but now he’d dialed it back to a simmer, delivering the question in an angry monotone that Jake struggled to decipher over the ringing in his ears.
In the frenzied moments before Levy pulled the trigger, Jake’s veins had coursed with adrenaline. He’d long since crashed. Now his head ached and his nerves jangled. Pinpricks of dried blood spatter made his skin itch. A smell like spent fireworks clung to the inside of his nostrils.
“There’s not much to say,” Jake replied. “We were questioning the suspect. When he realized Hassan had tripped him up, he panicked.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it,” Amy confirmed. “The fact is, sir, neither Gibson nor I thought that Levy posed a threat, to himself or anyone else, until it was too late.”
Ian nudged the items on his desk into square, a nervous habit.
“I’m not sure you two understand the world of shit you’re in. Park City is a jurisdictional nightmare, not to mention a political land mine, so this investigation has been under a microscope from the outset. Now add to that the fact that our only goddamn suspect died in custody. Top brass is pissed. Rival agencies are sharpening their knives. I’m doing my best to shield you from the blowback, but you’ve got to help me out a little. Did Levy give you anything before he offed himself?”
“Obviously, the guy was terrified,” Amy said. “He claimed the perpetrators threatened him and his mother both, so we’re digging into them to see if any pressure points leap out. Maybe it’ll give us a handle on how Levy wound up on our perps’ radar. We’re also combing through Levy’s financials to see if they offered him a carrot as well as a stick.”
“That’s not much,” the captain replied.
“It’s what we’ve got,” Jake said.
Ian closed his eyes, set his glasses on his desk, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Christ, what a mess. Valente pissed himself when Levy pulled the trigger, you know. Thought he was a goner, I guess. Kid’s only six months out of the academy—barely even old enough to drink—and I’ll be shocked if he returns to active duty.”
“Maybe that’s for the best.” Jake, uncomfortable talking shit about a fellow officer, cleared his throat and dropped his gaze. “His failure to properly secure his sidearm damn near got all three of us killed.”
“I’ll admit, the thought had crossed my mind.”
A knock at the door, three sharp raps, less a question than a demand. Ian looked at his wristwatch and winced. “I’m sorry. I thought we’d have more time.” Then, dejectedly: “Come in.”
Two men of the same make and model entered the room. Dark hair, dark eyes, and dark suits, with ties to match, and postures as starched as their white shirts. Their countenances were implacable, save for an imperious upturn at the corners of their mouths, so subtle you might convince yourself it was imagined. They weren’t wearing badges, not that it mattered. Jake would have pegged them as DBS at a hundred yards.
The latter of the two shut the door behind them. Both remained standing just inside, forcing Jake and Amy to twist awkwardly in their seats. It was a power move, intended to make them ill at ease. In Jake’s case, at least, it worked.
“Agents Paget and Medina, I presume?”
Medina nodded almost imperceptibly. “Captain Bavitz.”
“Uh, Cap?” Jake said. “What’s going on? Because if this is a fix-up, I wish you’d told me ahead of time, so I could’ve worn a nicer outfit.”
Amy shot Jake an admonishing look that he chose to ignore.
“I take it you haven’t informed them yet,” Paget said.
“I was getting there,” the captain replied testily.
“You know that we can hear you, right?” Amy doubled down with a glare so withering, it would’ve stopped a charging bull, but Jake was having none of it, because he could see where this was going.
“Agents Paget and Medina are from the Department of Biological Security. They’ll be taking over your investigation, effective immediately.”
“You’re fucking kidding me,” Jake said.
“Jake,” Amy cautioned, “don’t.”
“You should listen to your partner, Mr. Gibson,” Medina said. “This is well above your pay grade.”
“Detective,” Jake corrected.
“Excuse me?”
“My title is Detective.”
Medina’s expression split the difference between amusement and annoyance. “My apologies, Detective.”
“C’mon, Cap. This is horseshit. You’re not seriously gonna reassign us, are you?”
“Actually,” Ian said, “in light of this morning’s events, the department thinks it’d be best if you two took a little time off.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning you’re both on administrative leave pending an internal investigation of Levy’s death.”
“We’re being suspended?” Amy’s tone was calm, but quavered with what Jake recognized as rage barely contained. “But we didn’t do anything wrong!”
“Which means you have nothing to worry about,” Ian replied. “Don’t think of this as a suspension. Consider it more of a vacation.”
“An involuntary vacation,” Jake amended.
“With all due respect, Captain,” Paget interrupted, “my colleague and I have neither the time nor inclination to deal with your petty staff squabbles; we have a job to do.”
Jake laughed, shrill and humorless. “Sucks for you, pal, because apparently all I’ve got is time, and I’m not about to step aside without a fight.”
“Careful, Detective. I’m certain you’re aware that the Department of Biological Security has the authority to assume control of any investigation that may involve a public health risk—just as I’m certain you’re aware that impeding a DBS investigation is a federal offense.”
“No. I’m merely pointing out that you have no cards left to play. I suggest you go home and enjoy this lovely summer weather. Perhaps you could take your daughter—Zoe, is it?—out for ice cream.”
At the mention of his daughter, Jake sagged.
“You know what?” he said. “On second thought, some time off sounds like a great idea.”