Chapter 17
Please come in, Sergeant Moreau, have a seat.”
Greg Bannon rose from behind his desk and gestured to the chair across from him. “I’m glad you were able to free up your calendar, Sergeant.” He laughed as he sank onto his chair, but Viviana didn’t miss the fact that his usually casual, open demeanor was somewhat strained. Viviana couldn’t blame him. It had now been three days since Bannon took command of the VCU, and this was their first face-to-face meeting. Even she didn’t count the abbreviated session when she and Mick met with him, the meeting that she’d abruptly left before it started. And then there was their scheduled luncheon date shot to hell by Jax’s arrival and their subsequent argument. If there was any doubt that the new commander was through being put off by her, he made it clear when he pinned her with a firm gaze and said, “You are a difficult woman to shanghai, Viviana, but you know that, don’t you?”
Viviana sighed and said with a contrite smile, “I’m sorry, Greg. I truly am. I know I have been difficult to ‘shanghai,’ much less meet with you. I hope you don’t think that my absence has anything to do with how I feel about you taking over the command of the VCU!” She added firmly, “Believe me, I may be the happiest person on your squad that you are now our commander.” Seeing the slight frown creasing his brow, Viviana decided to address the issue between them head on. “I know that Jax—Chief Hughes—and I have put you in a difficult position, and I apologize for that.” She didn’t hold back a slightly teasing grin. “I promise, Greg, that from now on we will be on our best behavior. You have enough to deal with without Jax and me adding to the drama.”
Greg returned her smile, but again Viviana noted that his usual bonhomie was decidedly absent. If anything, her new commander looked uncharacteristically serious. “You’re right, Sergeant. You and my boss have certainly made the introduction to my new position interesting, if not loaded. But I’m hopeful that we’ve turned a corner. Let’s face it, Sergeant. You are the acknowledged star of this unit, and yet you and I haven’t had a single conversation regarding what the hell you are doing.” He allowed a grin to soften his expression. “In contrast, I know what Lieutenant Jensen is doing essentially every minute of the day and night, but I don’t have clue what you’re up to, Sergeant.” Before she could interrupt, he added, “Not that I want a blow-by-blow of your life, Sergeant Moreau. Indeed, I know more than I should about your private life, at least as it involves our chief of police. But as to the cases you are working on, what you are doing, and with whom, frankly, Sergeant, I am clueless.”
Viviana managed to squash her annoyance. She knew, at least in part, Greg was responding to Jax’s insistence that he get control of her. But she had to admit he was right. She hadn’t been in his office since she rushed out to respond to Francis’s alert about Ariel, which she compounded by blowing off their luncheon meeting in her fury at Jax. While she had no intention of bringing him into the leads that she and Francis were chasing, she knew she needed to throw him a bone. But before she could manufacture a reasonably possible scenario of what she was working on, Greg caught her off guard.
“You indicated yesterday that you had reason to believe that Mayor Simpson’s wife was involved in something you were working on. Want to tell me about that, Sergeant? I have to agree with Jax. On the surface, Annabelle Simpson doesn’t fit the profile of anyone who would interest you—at least in terms of a case. But regardless, please edify me.”
Viviana covered her dismay with effort. Realizing that Greg Bannon was nobody’s fool and that unfortunately he had seen her at her devious worst, she needed to throw him off her tail, carefully. She knew she and Francis had uncovered a likely landmine, and it wasn’t only because the mayor’s wife was potentially involved. All she would need was to pique Greg’s interest, give him a sense of the looming crisis, and her new boss would have no choice but to go his boss, the new chief of police.
Frowning, she shrugged derisively. “Honestly, Commander Bannon, Jax was right yesterday. I do have a bug up my butt when it comes to high-society women. I’ll admit it. They annoy me. They are such do-gooders, but their doing good is so transparent. In my mind, the only way it does ‘good’ is by giving them something to brag about with one another. As I told you yesterday, Mrs. Simpson is on the board of the shelter that Ariel, the young woman I’m concerned about, left to go back on the streets. I plan to talk with Mrs. Simpson, give her a chance to understand what happens when the causes she supports don’t work for some reason and that it behooves her as a board member to see if there is cause for concern.”
Viviana knew from the quizzical expression on Greg’s face that her explanation raised as many questions in his mind as it answered, but before he could push further, she tossed out another line of attack to distract him. “Jax was also right when he said that I’m a media whore.”
Greg frowned. “C’mon, Viviana, be fair. That’s not at all what Chief Hughes said . . . ”
She sniffed and raised her chin dismissively. “Well, maybe not in those exact terms, but I’ll admit that at base, he’s right. I do cater to the media. Frankly I’m good copy, and my public is interested in what I do and how I do it. That’s not all bad, Commander. I think both Jax and Commissioner McElroy, and even Mayor Simpson, will tell you that the attention we raked in with the Diva exposé gave the SJPD some of the best publicity it’s ever had.” She tossed him a winning smile. “My public is always looking for something new. I promise if I find anything that I think will pique their interest, you will be the first to know.”
Studying the accomplished actress smiling sweetly at him, certain that she’d bamboozled him as she did everyone, Greg decided to press on about an insight that had been niggling him. “Speaking of bugs up your ass, Sergeant Moreau, in addition to society ladies and a certain overbearing police chief, you seem to be especially concerned about abused girls. Where did that come from? How did you happen to board that particular train?”
To his surprise, Viviana responded defensively. “Good God, Greg. Surely I don’t have to explain why I’m irate about the exploitation of young girls—and boys, for that matter. And yes, several of the high-impact cases I’ve worked involved abused girls. I freely admit that I’ve done my damnedest to make sure that the child molesters get pilloried in the press as well as having their own asses up for grabs in the roughest prisons I can put them in.” Seeming to pull back at what he was sure was his surprise at her outspoken response, Viviana shrugged. “I just hate the abuse of power in whatever form it takes, Greg.” Her lips pressed together in a firm line for a moment. “All my life, I’ve seen powerful men and women assume that their rarified positions allow them to do whatever they damn well please to whomever they please.” She tossed her head. “I’ve learned that being a media darling, a media whore if you will, gives me power to challenge those assumptions. I may not be a trust fund baby or head up a major corporation or foundation, but I can assure you that the people who do have that kind of power do not want to get in the crosshairs of the Enchantress.”
Not hiding his surprise at her unexpected frankness, Greg moved to capitalize on her unusual forthcomingness. “Thank you for telling me that, Viviana. I appreciate your passion and your candor. While we are actually talking about the issues that concern you, how about we discuss some of the issues that concern me?”
Viviana visibly pulled back. “What might those issues be, Commander?”
Greg laughed. “It won’t surprise you that they concern your rather unusual work style.” Seeing her hardening expression, Greg pressed on. “In addition to your erratic work schedule, your penchant for secrecy is challenging to say the least. For example, according to your partner, Detective O’Reilly, you rely heavily on well-placed confidential informants to make your cases. I’m interested in those CIs, Sergeant, and how you use them.”
Wondering if Jax had put him onto Francis, Viviana fought the anger rising in her gut. But even as she thought about it, she knew that Jax would never betray her or Francis without telling them both what he intended to do. However, she also knew he wouldn’t be above suggesting to Bannon that a good commander ought to know his detectives’ sources. As if the gods were out to test the premise, her phone vibrated. Glancing at the screen, she saw Francis’s emergency summons. It conveyed the warning in no uncertain terms. “Ariel. Get your ass here now!”
Pasting a bored expression on her face, Viviana pretended annoyance. Raising her hands in mock acquiescence, she said, “Sorry, Commander Bannon. Apparently my partner needs me now, at least according to him.” Trying to make her excuse as plausible as possible and one that wouldn’t compromise Mick unnecessarily, she rose to her feet and said blandly, “I had forgotten that we were due to meet with one of his sources. Please excuse me.”
In that she was almost to the doorway, Greg couldn’t do much more than accede as graciously as possible. After escorting her to the door and thanking her for meeting with him, he headed for the side bar that Jax had loaded with Greg’s favorite libations. Pouring himself a triple shot of Maker’s Mark, he settled into his desk chair with a heavy sigh. Snorting in disgust, he reminded himself that at least he could report to his chief that he’d finally gotten the recalcitrant sergeant to deign to meet with him. He could even report that he may have gotten some useful insights into what floated the elusive woman’s boat. But he conceded that if he were scoring the match, even if he had his thumb on the scale, he’d have to admit that the score was Sergeant Moreau, ten, Commander Bannon, one. After all, he did get her to stay in his office for a record ten-minute conversation. However, as for getting a single insight into what the hell she was doing or what case she was working on, he could mark that up as a big fat cipher.