‘He is a political nightmare,’ the chief said. ‘He should never have been placed in charge of First Precinct.’
‘Then transfer him back to the detective division, to A Squad. That’s really where he belongs.’
Tucker quietly drove. He did not wish to discuss Marino anymore.
‘Why was I never told someone wanted to kill me?’ I asked, and the words sounded weird, and I really could not accept their meaning. ‘I want to know why you did not tell me I was under surveillance.’
‘I did what I thought was best.’
‘You should have told me.’
He looked in his rearview mirror to make sure Marino was still behind us as he drove around the back of Richmond police department headquarters.
‘I believed telling you what snitches had divulged would only place you in more danger. I was afraid you might become . . .’ He paused. ‘Well, aggressive, anxious. I did not want your demeanor substantially changing. I did not want you going on the offense and perhaps escalating the situation.’
‘I do not think you had a right to be so secretive,’ I said with feeling.
‘Dr. Scarpetta.’ He stared straight ahead. ‘I honestly did not care what you thought and still don’t. I only care about saving your life.’
At the police entrance to the parking lot, two officers with pump shotguns stood guard, their uniforms black against snow. Tucker stopped and rolled his window down.
‘How’s it going?’ he asked.
A sergeant was stern, shotgun pointing at the planets. ‘It’s quiet, sir.’
‘Well, you guys be careful.’
‘Yes, sir. We will.’
Tucker shut his window and drove on. He parked in a space to the left of double glass doors that led into the lobby and lockup of the large concrete complex he commanded. I noticed few cruisers or unmarked cars in the lot. I supposed there were accidents to be worked this slippery night, and everyone else was out looking for Gault. To law enforcement, he had earned a new rank. He was a cop killer now.
‘You and Sheriff Brown have similar cars,’ I said, unfastening my seat belt.
‘And there the similarity ends,’ Tucker said, getting out.
His office was along a dreary hallway, several doors from A Squad, where the homicide detectives lived. The chief’s quarters were surprisingly simple, furniture sturdy but utilitarian. He had no nice lamps or rugs, and walls were absent the expected photographs of himself with politicians or celebrities. I saw no certificates or diplomas that might tell where he had gone to school or what commendations he had won.
Tucker looked at his watch and showed us into a small adjoining conference room. Windowless, and carpeted in deep blue, it was furnished with a round table and eight chairs, a television and a VCR.
‘What about Lucy and Janet?’ I asked, expecting the chief to exclude them from the discussion.
‘I already know about them,’ he said, getting comfortable in a swivel chair as if he were about to watch the Super Bowl. ‘They’re agents.’
‘I’m not an agent,’ Lucy respectfully corrected him.
He looked at her. ‘You wrote CAIN.’
‘Not entirely.’
‘Well, CAIN’s a factor in all this, so you may as well stay.’
‘Your department’s on-line.’ She held his gaze. ‘In fact, yours was the first to be on-line.’
We turned as the door opened and Benton Wesley walked in. He was wearing corduroys and a sweater. He had the raw look of one too exhausted to sleep.
‘Benton, I trust you know everyone,’ Tucker said as if he knew Wesley quite well.
‘Right.’ Wesley was all business as he took a chair. ‘I’m late because you’re doing a good job.’
Tucker seemed perplexed.
‘I got stopped at two checkpoints,’
‘Ah.’ The chief seemed pleased. ‘We have everybody out. We’re lucky as hell with the weather,’
He wasn’t joking.
Marino explained to Lucy and Janet, ‘The snow keeps most people home. The fewer people out, the easier for us.’
‘Unless Gault’s not out, either,’ Lucy said.
‘He’s got to be somewhere,’ Marino said. ‘The toad don’t exactly have a vacation home here,’
‘We don’t know what he has,’ Wesley said. ‘He could know someone in the area,’