NYPD Red 6 - James Patterson Page 0,65

have had some kind of chance.”

“Or …” Cheryl let the word hang there for a few seconds. “She could have had a one hundred percent chance of not getting shot. All she had to do was not go.”

“She wasn’t the type to put her life on hold. It was an important show.”

“I’m sure it was. But then something more important happened. Her daughter-in-law was kidnapped. Her son wanted to pay the ransom, but he couldn’t. Veronica Gibbs was a smart businesswoman. She knew that she was the only one that stood in the way of Jamie getting the money. She had to at least think that she might be a target. But she decided she’d be damned if she publicly admitted that this kidnapping had anything to do with her. She’s the one who made the wrong call, Zach. So stop blaming yourself for her death. You did not put Veronica Gibbs in harm’s way.”

“You know we offered her police protection,” I said. “She flat-out turned us down. We didn’t want Jamie to go out in public either, but we couldn’t stop him.”

“Zach, the best police department in the world can’t protect people from themselves.”

The words struck a familiar chord. “I knew that,” I said. “But sometimes I forget. Thanks. That helps.” I stood up.

“Sit down,” she said. “I’m not done.”

I sat.

“Zach, I see unhappy cops every day. Sometimes they’re depressed because they can’t crack a case they’re desperate to solve. Or because a case they thought they’d nailed got thrown out of court on a technicality and some lowlife who should be doing serious prison time is walking around free. And sometimes it’s not about the casework. They’re ready to quit because someone who is better at politics than they are got a promotion, and they didn’t.”

“Okay,” I said, not exactly sure where she was going with this.

“It’s not easy being a cop. It can be a frustrating, thankless job. But you’ve had a damn good run. You were still in your early thirties when you got promoted to detective first grade. Then you were drafted for Red. You and Kylie have become the go-to cops for the most prestigious unit in the department, and you’ve closed every big case they’ve ever assigned you.”

“True.”

“And that’s your problem,” she said.

“What’s my problem?”

“You’re spoiled.”

I did a double take. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve been riding the wave so long, you forgot what it’s like to crash and burn. I can’t tell you if you made the right call or the wrong one, but after hearing thousands of sob stories from cops of every rank, race, and responsibility, I can tell you this: Shit happens. Don’t wallow in it.”

I laughed. “Shit happens? Don’t wallow in it? They taught you that in shrink school?”

“Actually, my father taught it to me when I was a little girl, only he used more kid-friendly words.”

“Lay them on me.”

She sat down next to me on the sofa, put her hand on my cheek, and whispered softly in my ear, “Suck it up, buttercup.”

I pulled her close. “You’re a good psychologist,” I said, “but I really miss my girlfriend.”

“In that case,” she said, lying back and pulling me on top of her, “this session is over.”

CHAPTER 57

BY SUNDAY MORNING, hordes of fans and paparazzi had flocked to Ninety-Fifth Street and Riverside Drive in hopes of getting a firsthand look at the most Googled, most talked-about, most sought-after celebrity on the planet.

NYPD had cordoned off the area in front of Jamie’s building and corralled the crowd behind makeshift barriers on Riverside.

Kylie and I arrived just before eleven. In addition to the doorman, two of Declan McMaster’s security team were stationed in the lobby. They recognized us but still checked our IDs.

We took the elevator upstairs. McMaster let us in. “Did you see the crowd out there?” he said. “They loved her before this, but now it’s out of control.”

“She shanked her kidnapper,” Kylie said. “That’s cult-hero status.”

“Meanwhile the poor woman is freaked. She can’t shake the fact that she snuffed out a man’s life. I have to warn you, she’s not herself, so when you question her—”

“Declan,” Kylie said, “we question victims all the time. We don’t expect someone who’s been kidnapped, raped, and living in fear for her life to be herself. All she’s got to do is give us some straightforward, honest answers.”

“Relax. I’m just offering you some insight here. It’s not like I’m telling you how to do your job,” he said, having just tried to