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o’clock.”
    “Any hint as to why?”
    “In court, Sparks’s lawyer claimed we’ve got an investigation running on the apartment next door.”
    “And how would he know that?”
    “We figure that out after we see if he’s right.”

CHAPTER EIGHT
    3:00 P.M.
    E llie rapped her knuckles against the glass window that separated Lieutenant Robin Tucker’s office from the cramped detective squad, packed as it was with unmatched desks, dilapidated chairs, and the chaos of eighteen homicide detectives working out of a single room. She swept her bangs to the side as she watched through the glass. Tucker’s head tilted ever so slightly toward her office door.
    “It’s open,” she called out, still reading whatever report she held between her fingertips.
    “Afternoon, Lou. Rogan says you wanted to touch base?”
    Tucker set the document down on her desk. “Did you really need your partner to tell you that, given what happened in court yesterday?”
    Ellie had finally won over her former lieutenant three short months before he was demoted due to an internal affairs investigation, the details of which were still wholly unknown and therefore rampant fodder for the NYPD rumor mill. When she found out that her new lieutenant was called Robin Tucker, she had assumed that the gender-ambiguous name belonged to a man. Statistical odds. But when Ellie learned that this particular Robin was of thefemale variety, she was optimistic. Maybe her luck would be better with a woman as a supervisor. Unfortunately, though, Ellie’s problems were with authority, not men.
    “No, Lou. Just making sure Rogan got credit for keeping me in check.”
    “If you were in check, you might not have spent the night in jail for contempt of court.”
    Ellie pressed her lips together. Explanations had done nothing to help her with Judge Bandon. She wasn’t going to waste her breath attempting to persuade Tucker that the judge had overreacted.
    Tucker looked Ellie in the eye during the silence. Ellie knew from asking around that her lieutenant was forty-eight years old, but her makeup-less skin was clear and bright. Her wavy hair had probably been shiny and blond years before turning to its current wiry mix of gray and light brown.
    She gave Ellie a nod. “Actually, a little bird already told me that the judge teed off on you for no good reason.”
    Ellie shut her eyes and thought about the ribbing she was going to get in the house if Max called her lieutenant in an attempt to protect her. Then as quickly as the idea had come to her, she rejected it. Max knew better.
    “You know Nick Dillon.” The way Ellie said it, it wasn’t a question. As an ex-cop, the head of Sparks Industries’ Corporate Security Division would know more than a few former colleagues at the NYPD.
    “We were both in the Seventh when I was just a rookie. He called this morning looking for your Lou. I guess he wanted to save you from a month’s worth of desk duty. Anyway, we recognized each other’s names from back in the day.”
    Tucker’s affect changed as she spoke about Dillon—her eyes softened, the corners of her lips raised into a slight smile—and Ellie noticed for the first time that with a little effort her lieutenant could be attractive.
    “He’s been pretty decent to Rogan and me.”
    “He’s a good guy. When he called, he gave me a heads-up that Sparks may go back to court to get access to our evidence.”
    “On what basis?”
    “Given where you spent the last twenty-four hours, do you really think Sam Sparks considers himself bound by the usual rules?”
    “Valid point.” A week earlier, Ellie had read online that Sparks was in negotiations for a reality show in which contestants would show off their eye for potential real estate jackpots. Sparks would supervise their work, like Donald Trump on The Apprentice , but meaner and with better hair.
    “Dillon knows it’s futile. No court will give Sparks what he wants, no matter how much he pays his lawyers