NYPD Red 6 - James Patterson Page 0,51
the siren, and barreled through the red on Lexington.
“Why would I say a word?” I responded, buckling my seat belt. “Oh, do you mean because running hot to a nonemergency is a flagrant violation of traffic safety, departmental policy, and common sense?”
“Who’s to say this isn’t a life-threatening emergency?” she yelled over the high/low wail of the siren. “Clearly that TV asshole is playing fast and loose with Erin’s.”
“I love your logic. Save it for the inquest after you bowl over a couple of pedestrians.”
She slowed down, turned off the siren, hesitated, then killed the flashing lights. “You feel better now, Zach?”
“Much better. And much, much safer.”
“That whole bit with the psychologist was a setup,” she said. “Brockway baited Jamie, and then the shrink moved in for the kill.”
“I’m in violent agreement,” I said.
My phone rang. It was Koprowski with an update on Jamie. “Elvis has left the building,” he said.
“Just stay with him,” I said. “We’re on the way to the studio to get our hands on the new video.”
“Why bother?” Koprowski said. “I heard on TV that the feds are taking over the case.”
“That would be funny if you and I were the only ones who heard it, but I bet everyone at One PP was watching, and none of them are laughing.”
It took us fifteen minutes to get to the network headquarters, storm the reception area, and demand to see Harris Brockway.
“He’s still on the air,” the receptionist said. “But he’s expecting you.”
“I’ll bet he is,” Kylie said. “Get him out here. Now.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
A production assistant escorted us to the greenroom, which I’ve come to learn is almost never painted green. It’s just a big cozy lounge with comfortable furniture and plenty of refreshments where guests can relax while they’re waiting to go on-air.
“Can I get you anything?” the PA asked.
I waved him off.
“Just water,” Kylie said.
He handed her a bottle of Poland Spring and left. Kylie sat down. I paced. We knew better than to talk. The room was wired for sound.
I looked at my watch. I figured Brockway would let us stew for a while, but I was wrong. I looked through the glass wall and saw him approaching quickly, his camera and sound crew behind him. I looked up at the monitor. I was on TV.
“Detective Jordan,” Brockway said, bursting into the room. “I’m guessing you saw our exclusive, and you’re here to pick up the original of the latest video of Erin in Exile. ZTV is always honored to be working side by side with the NYPD.”
He turned to Kylie, who was still holding the bottle of water. “Detective MacDonald, I see you’ve helped yourself to some refreshments. What’s the latest on your search for Erin? What can you tell our viewers?”
Kylie set the water down and stood. She’s got a hair-trigger temper, but she’s not stupid. She was not about to be suckerpunched on national television.
“I can’t comment on an ongoing investigation,” she said. “But if you turn off the camera, there’s something we’d like to share with you.”
Brockway turned to his cameraman. “You heard it here, ladies and gentlemen,” he said to his audience. “The bond between yours truly and the police continues to get stronger as we work together to find Erin Easton’s kidnapper and return her home safely. This concludes our live broadcast. We now return you to our regularly scheduled programming. But don’t go far. We’ll be back with breaking news as soon as it happens.”
He stood there in silence, his smug face filling the screen, until a woman with a headset yelled, “And we’re out.”
“My office,” Brockway said. “It’s totally private.”
We followed him to a large office suite, entered his inner sanctum, and closed the door.
Brockway’s face lit up. He actually believed the three of us were now on the same side. He sat down at his desk, rolled his mouse, and stared at his computer. “Just checking my Twitter feed,” he said. “Holy shit—twelve thousand retweets and counting. Are we trending or what?” He leaned forward and clasped his hands in front of him. “So … what can you tell me?”
“Just this,” Kylie said. “I have made it my personal mission to put you behind bars for obstruction of justice.”
“Christ, lighten up, will you, Detective?” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I’m the press. The press doesn’t obstruct. We inform.”
“Then your first mistake was not informing us as soon as you got the video from the kidnapper,” Kylie said.
“Oh, really?” He opened his desk drawer