Blueblood Read Free

department? Piss off half a dozen local chiefs? Not on your life.”
    “I thought you said HIDTA meant everyone played nice-nice.”
    “Sure, for drug busts. Multiple unrelated homicides that, if proven to be related, would indicate that no one’s been aware of a serial killer who’s been on the loose for a couple months? Not so much.”
    “Really?”
    He sighed. “I went there, Singer. Really, I did. I went down to the Bureau office, laid out the pictures just like I did for you.”
    “And?”
    “And they told me to get back to them when I had more evidence. Wasn’t a serial. Their profilers took a look and said these were vanilla, on-the-job ‘events.’”
    “And the victims’ departments?”
    He shrugged. “They’ll take the info I give them and they’ll cooperate if it’s in the best interests of their case, but no one wants to take on all of these murdered cops at once. They’ll spare no expense to track down the guy who killed their own. But work overtime for another department? Sure, if they get to it.”
    “Are you telling me you’ve been doing this on your own?” I asked, incredulous.
    “You got it,” Bloch said. “Funny, huh? You and I can see it, plain as day. And maybe they can, too. But no one else wants to touch it.”
    “So, they’re all handling just their own department’s murder? But nothing else?”
    “While there’s a guy out there, offing cops,” Bloch said, nodding. “And he’s got his pick of ten or twelve different districts to do it in. None of which will cooperate with each other.”
    I blew out a breath. “I think I see where I come in.”
    Bloch gave me a weary smile. “I figured you would. Once I caught on I was being stonewalled everywhere, I started asking around, seeing if anyone would take this up as a hobby, do the leg work for me. I can’t do this thing by myself.”
    “Any takers?”
    “What do you think? But I got a couple of nods about you from some guys I know in Homicide. Great track record, a good cop. They said you retired, but still had a hand in.”
    “Ah,” I said. “That thing last year was kind of foisted on me, Bloch. I didn’t ask for it.”
    “I get that. I didn’t ask for this, either, you know? But sometimes things come looking for you. What am I supposed to do with this—walk away, act like everyone else? What happens next week or next month or next year when I hear about another cop getting shot? Send a memo? I owe Danny more than that. I owe these other cops more than that.”
    I looked at Bloch. I didn’t need the rah-rah, brothers-in-arms spiel. But he had a point. When you see something’s broken, you fix it. Just because it isn’t any of your business doesn’t mean it’s less wrong. Or any less your responsibility to do what you can to help. Even if I didn’t already have debts to pay in that regard, I knew about this now. And that meant I should do something about it.
    I held out a hand. “Let’s see those files.”

 
     
    Chapter Two
     
     
     
    If the Charles E. Smith auditorium seemed like a university basketball arena converted into a semi-respectable graduation hall, it’s because that’s exactly what it was. The George Washington University staff had made a valiant effort to make the place exude the kind of storied tradition that universities are supposed to have on graduation day. They’d draped flowing royal-blue sashes over everything and portraits of the Father of Our Country gazing serenely down on us, but I was still sitting in a fold-down bleacher seat with my knees touching the back of the row in front of me and bumping elbows with my neighbors on either side. At six-three, I’m not exactly NBA material but I would’ve had to saw my legs off mid-calf to fit. I wondered for maybe the thousandth time why makers of auditoriums gave each seat just one armrest, as if every person in the place only wanted to be comfortable half the time.
    “Which one is yours?” asked the woman to my left. Our