Davies didn’t answer at first. He sat back and eyeballed me for a few seconds. Then he said, “I had a call this morning from Internal Affairs.”

There it was—just about the last thing I wanted to deal with right now. Internal Affairs used to be called the Office of Professional Responsibility. Before that, it was—Internal Affairs. MPD is nothing if not fluid that way.

“What did they want?” I asked.

“I think you know. Did you threaten that anchor asshole Ryan Willoughby at Channel Nine? He says you did. So does his assistant.”

I sat back and took a breath before I answered. “It’s bullshit. Things got a little heated, that’s all.”

“Okay. I had another call yesterday, from a Congressman Mintzer. Want to guess what he was calling about?”

I couldn’t believe it—though it was typical enough Washington power-playing and outright bullying. “Both of their phone numbers were found in Caroline’s apartment.”

“I don’t need you to give me the 101. Not yet anyway.” He held up the file to illustrate his point. “I just need to know that you’ve got a cool head on this.”

“I do. But this isn’t just another homicide investigation, and I don’t mean because my niece was killed and cut up into pieces.”

“Damn straight it’s not, Alex. That’s the whole point. These complaints could become a problem. For you and for the entire investigation.”

I was talking to Davies, but I was also trying to think this thing through. Citizen complaints—when they’re investigated—can end up at one of four conclusions. They can be sustained, determined unfounded, deemed unprovable for lack of evidence, or the officer can be exonerated because no regulation was broken. I felt confident that at worst, I was in the last category.

Davies wasn’t done with me, though. “I give you more leeway than just about any detective in this division,” he said.

“Thank you. I’m handling it okay, right? Despite appearances.”

That got a microscopic grin. He studied me for another few seconds and then sat back. When he started putting away his notes, I knew we were over the hump. At least for right now.

“I want you on this investigation, Alex. But believe me when I say that the minute—and I mean the minute—anyone tries to take this over my head, I’m pulling you off.”

He stood up then, my sign to get out of there while I still could. “Keep me in the loop. I don’t want to have to call you again. You call me.”

“Of course,” I assured him, and then I left. If I stuck around longer, I’d have to tell him about my meeting with Ned Mahoney, and that was something I couldn’t afford to do right now. Not if Davies was already considering reining me in.

I’d tell him everything later. Just as soon as I had some answers myself.

Chapter 36

TONY NICHOLSON RECALLED a particular short story that had been popular when he was a schoolboy. He thought it was called “The Most Dangerous Game.” Well, he was playing such a game now, only in real life, and it was much more dangerous than some story in an anthology.