Dust to Dust by Tami Hoag Page A

said by way of introduction, not offering her hand. “I’m here about Andy Fallon.”
    “Yes,” Savard murmured, almost as if she were talking to herself. “Of course.”
    She seemed too feminine to live up to her rep, Liska thought. Amanda Savard had been described as tough and smooth, sharp and cold as a tungsten steel blade.
    Liska helped herself to a seat. Cool, casual, in control. A good front anyway. She pulled out her notebook and pen.
    “It’s a terrible tragedy,” Savard said, easing into her seat with care. As if she had a bad back but didn’t want to show it. Her hand trembled slightly as she reached for her coffee cup. “I liked Andy. He was a good kid.”
    “What kind of cop was he?”
    “Dedicated. Conscientious.”
    “When did you last see him?”
    “Sunday evening. We needed to talk some things over in relation to a case he’d been working. He hadn’t been pleased with the outcome.”
    “And where did you go?”
    “His home.”
    “Isn’t that a little intimate?”
    Savard didn’t bat an eye. “Andy was gay. I was in Uptown doing some Christmas shopping. I called and asked him if I could drop by.”
    “What time was that?”
    “Around eight. I left around nine-thirty.”
    “Did he say anything about expecting someone else?”
    “No.”
    “And what was his frame of mind when you left?”
    “He seemed fine. We had talked everything through.”
    “But he didn’t come in for work yesterday?”
    “No. He had asked to take Monday as a personal day. Christmas shopping, he said. If I’d had any idea . . .” She looked away, taking a few seconds to tighten the straps on her composure.
    “Had he given any indication of having emotional problems recently?”
    Savard released a delicate sigh, seemingly lost in the stark beauty of a black-and-white winterscape photograph that hung on one wall.
    “Yes. He’d been quiet. Down. He’d lost some weight. I knew he was having some problems with a case. And I knew he was dealing with some stress in his personal life. But I didn’t think he was a risk to himself. Andy did a good job of internalizing.”
    “Was he seeing the shrink?”
    “Not that I was aware of. I wish now I had been stronger in suggesting that.”
    “You
had
suggested it?”
    “I make it clear to my people the department psychologist is there for a reason. Internal Affairs can be a tough row to hoe. There’s a considerable amount of job stress.”
    “Yeah, I guess ruining other cops could have its drawbacks,” Liska muttered, scribbling in her pad.
    “Cops ruin themselves, Sergeant,” Savard said, a hint of the steel glinting now in her voice. “We stop them from ruining other people’s lives. We provide a necessary service here.”
    “I didn’t mean to imply that you didn’t.”
    “Of course you did.”
    Liska shifted on her chair, her gaze sliding away from Savard’s cold green eyes.
    “I’ve lost a good investigator,” Savard said. “And I’ve lost a young man I liked a lot. Do you think I don’t feel that, Sergeant? Do you think IA rats have ice water in their veins?”
    Liska stared down at her lap. “No, ma’am. I’m sorry.”
    “I’m sure you are. You’re sitting there wondering if I’ll complain to your lieutenant.”
    Liska said nothing because Savard was exactly right. She was more concerned about how this screw-up would affect her career than how it might have upset Savard personally. Sad but true. She put her career first when she wasn’t busy sticking her foot in her mouth. Habitual behavior—on both counts. Professional ambition was one part of the survivor mentality that had kept her head above water all her life. The other was an unfortunate tendency that had hindered her progress more than once.
    “Don’t worry, Sergeant,” Savard said wearily. “My skin is thicker than that.”
    After an uncomfortable moment, Liska said, “Do you think Andy Fallon killed himself?”
    Savard’s brow furrowed delicately. “Do you think