my life line. My skin crawled. His thumb was warm and callused and his frayed cuticle scraped against my palm. The fingers of his other hand tightened around my knuckles.
"It ain't in the hands." His breath smelled of peanuts. "You kill somebody, it shows in your eyes - eyes like you got. You really scared of me, Professor?" He moved quick. Almost too quick. His cuffed hands clamped on my wrist like a vise grip and yanked me down, my face toward his head. If I'd tried to pull back I would've gotten a broken nose. Instead I dropped sideways out of my chair, flipping Sanchez over me in a somersault. He tumbled, slammed into DeLeon's legs, and I back-fisted Sanchez's busted mouth with my free hand as he went down.
I got up slowly. DeLeon had Sanchez's neck in a lock. The deputy was there, his gun in Zeta's face.
Sanchez had trouble coughing with his jaw clamped shut. A long string of saliva and blood swung from his lip.
DeLeon moved away while the guard pulled Sanchez roughly to his feet. Sanchez managed a grin. "Feel good, puhfeffoh? Tell them they ain't getting shit from me, okay? You tell them."
The guard dragged Sanchez out of the room, the felon's mouth a bloody, smiling piece of wreckage.
DeLeon sighed wearily as the door clicked closed. She rubbed the side of her face. "Thanks."
"Thanks?"
"That was more than they got out of him in twelve hours yesterday. He needed an audience, someone to show off for. For him, that interview was a major success."
I looked at the back of my hand, where Zeta's saliva was still wet, matting my hair to the skin in dark slick triangles that smelled of peanuts and blood. My skin crawled. I felt as if I'd just gotten a big sloppy lick from a mastiff who could just as easily have ripped my throat out.
"Happy to help," I told DeLeon.
Chapter 19-20
Chapter 19
"You got evidence," Assistant D.A. Canright said. "Solid witness, ballistics, prints. You got a suspect any jury in their right minds would convict. You did great, Ana, okay? Be happy."
DeLeon did not look happy.
I was sitting at a desk about fifteen feet away, pretending I wasn't paying attention and still needed to be there with the ice pack on my hand. Lieutenant Hernandez had met my eyes several times, but I think he was already so disgusted with me he'd stopped caring.
DeLeon said, "I want to follow up."
Canright ran skinny white fingers through his red hair, shot a look at Hernandez. "Am I not being clear? Ana, honey, am I not being clear?"
"My last name is DeLeon."
Canright made a cup with his hands. "This guy shot an innocent man in his home, Ana. A college professor, husband, father. Then he shot a cop. I don't need a 'why' to nail his ass in court. You took him down. Your first homicide case - you did great. Now it's mine."
"Let me explain it another way, sir." DeLeon took her notepad and pen from her overcoat. She wrote as she said, "I'm. Not. Done. Honey."
She underlined the words, tore off the sheet, and tried to tuck it into Canright's coat.
The ADA stepped back, brushing her hand away. "All right, Ana. That's it. That's it."
"Mr. Canright - "
"Detective," Hernandez intervened. "You're up for cold-case duty. Starting Monday we rotate you in for three months. Between now and then you should get some rest."
"Lieutenant - "
Hernandez turned toward Kelsey, who was leaning against a nearby partition. "Take care of what Mr. Canright needs for court. Follow up."
Kelsey smiled. "My pleasure." He drifted back toward his cubicle. Canright nodded with dry approval. He turned to say something else to DeLeon, probably something appeasing.
Lieutenant Hernandez said, "Good-bye, Mr. Canright. We'll keep you apprised."
Canright closed his mouth, nodded. When he got to the doorway he couldn't stand it. He turned and called, "You did an excellent job, Ana, honey. I mean that."
The homicide office sucked up the sound of his voice. Everything returned to quiet neutral gray as soon as the door swung closed.
DeLeon crumpled her note and dropped it at Hernandez's feet.
"Ana," Hernandez said, "they want a quick resolution. They smell blood. You're a district attorney, you don't see a two-plus-two case like this and beat your head against a wall trying to figure out how you can make it come up five."
"God damn it, Lieutenant - "
"You don't wait for the media to tear you apart for inaction. You prosecute."
"It's