Free Doing the Devil's Work by Bill Loehfelm Page A

interested in them, too. They figure Cooley wasn’t alone here in Louisiana. I believe them. His kind of coward never acts alone. What he was doing in New Orleans, it might be a lead for them. He might tie into this network of hate-group loonies they’ve been looking at, some shit like that. I’m hearing it might reach back to the Murrah Building bombing in Oklahoma City. Point being, this shit runs long and deep. We’re gonna hear about it if the FBI or the marshals think we fouled some evidence or blew their lead. There’s no telling these days. Heads might roll, yours even, since you were first on the scene, things get bad enough.”
    “You got nothing to worry about, Preach,” Maureen said. “Everything was on point. I kept the house locked down until the detective arrived. You know Atkinson runs a tight ship, and I didn’t mess with anything, didn’t let anyone else mess around. There’s not gonna be anything for anyone to complain about.”
    “I don’t doubt you, Coughlin, but someone wants to jam us up, they can often find a way. We’re a fallible group. How was the canvass?”
    Maureen shook her head, hands on hips. “You know, like it’s our fault the feds lost track of this asshole for three years. Oklahoma City was almost twenty years ago. Where they been since?” She hesitated, thinking of Quinn’s tantrum. He probably hadn’t done his best work. How much did that matter, though? “The canvass was fine. Typical. I mean, I did my part, I’m sure everyone else did theirs, too. It’s not like I was supervising. You know how these things go, Preach. You taught me. We never get anything at the time we’re asking questions. We’re out making nice and making friends, hoping someone calls us later.”
    “Well, let’s hope somebody on Magnolia Street liked you, Coughlin.” He scratched at the rough stubble on his throat. “Much as I hate to admit it, doing the feds a solid right now would make everyone look good.” He met her eyes. “I’d especially be happy if that favor came straight out of the Sixth District, from cops under my command. What’s good for the Sixth is good for the department is good for the city. Whatever anybody needs, the feds, Atkinson, we need to provide, with smiling fucking faces.”
    “I’ll keep that in mind,” Maureen said. “Speaking of favors, I was about to call you when I saw you here. You remember Sergeant Hardin from over the Eighth?”
    “Absolutely. He helped with that thing in Jackson Square.”
    “When I was done inside, he called me on my cell. He’s on the night shift tonight. He asked me to come see him, but to keep it quiet. He’s got a friend of mine, as he put it in the message, in an interrogation room. This okay with you?”
    “You finally have friends in this town?” Preacher asked. “News to me. About time.”
    “Low, Preach. That’s low.”
    “You’re right. But I’m not wrong, am I? He say a name?”
    “He did not,” Maureen said.
    “A blind date,” Preacher said. “Fuck it. I’ve known Hardin forever. I trust him. If I wouldn’t be cool with it, he wouldn’t have called you in the first place. Go see him, and whoever he’s got over there, be grateful and do what he says. I’ll bet anything it’s payback for getting that shrieking flock of spoiled co-eds out of his face last night.”
    “Heard that,” Maureen said. Preacher’s approval eased her nerves. And there was the compliment of a veteran officer like Hardin doing her a solid. A mark in her favor in front of Preacher. Maybe she wasn’t making friends in the city yet, but she was making the right connections on the job. That mattered more to her, excited her more than lunch and coffee dates. She gestured at the cruiser. “I should get over there. He’s already been waiting and we’re one short in the district with me out here.”
    Preacher eased out of her way. He raised his chin at the intake office. “Before you go, what happened with that Leary