The Frailty of Flesh by Sandra Ruttan Page A

behind the desk. Steve Daly’s office was unusual in layout, because it was a corner room. From the entrance the desk was to the left, with a tall, narrow window behind it. Daly had kept one picture on the wall, to the side of the window, and otherwise the wall that bordered the hallway and the space on the far side of the window were filled with bookshelves and cabinets.
    The far wall also had a window, but it was partially concealed by a freestanding whiteboard that had been brought in, when Craig, Tain and Ashlyn had worked together. Those cases had led to Steve’s temporary reassignment, and the whiteboard hadn’t been removed before his departure.
    “Come in.” Zidani remained perched on the window ledge, arms folded, scowl in place.
    Craig stepped inside but left the door open.
    “I asked you a question.”
    “Respectfully, I’ll decline to answer.”
    Zidani grunted. “So now you think you can play nice?”
    Another loaded question. Craig remained silent.
    “You’ve been on the shelf for a while,” Zidani said.
    There was no sense denying it. Zidani could be baiting him, hoping he’d jump at the chance to get back in rotation with more serious crimes. Before he reminded Craig of all his perceived shortcomings and why that wasn’t going to happen.
    Or was he seriously thinking about resolving this stalemate?
    “What do you think of Geller?”
    Craig paused. “Seems competent.”
    The beady-eyed stare didn’t waiver. “A few months in and that’s all you’ve got to say?”
    What do you expect when you hand us routine cases and make sure we spend more time at our desks than on the street?
    It seemed as though Zidani had read Craig’s mind, because something resembling a smile replaced the scowl. “Fair enough. You two need a chance to get on the street.”
    Zidani would get no argument from Craig, but he still kept his mouth shut.
    “I want you to handle something.” The sergeant nodded at two boxes sitting on his desk. “Convicted killer is applying for early parole. Since the cops who made the arrest aren’t available I thought you could step in, make sure there won’t be any problems. Scum like this should never see the light of day, if you ask me.”
    Craig stepped up to the desk and looked at the label on the box. Evidence in the Hope Harrington murder investigation.
    “Think you can handle it?” Zidani asked.
    “Isn’t this a—”
    “All you’re doing is reviewing the material, checking up on any loose ends. Make sure we have nothing to worry about.”
    Craig returned Zidani’s stare for a moment, then nodded. “Is Constable Geller working on this with me?”
    Zidani pushed himself up off the window ledge and grunted again. “This’ll only keep you busy a few days. Then you guys can hit the streets.” He sat down in his chair and picked up the phone.
    Craig grabbed the boxes and left. First Lisa Harrington. Then the lawyer and the reporter. Now Zidani. He felt his stomach twist. Something wasn’t right about this. Since when did they review files to make sure a case was solid ten years after someone was convicted, unless…Craig thought about what the reporter had said on the phone and swallowed. He was being cut loose to work on his own for a few days on a case long closed, after being assured it was a routine task, so why did he feel like he was being set up?
    * * *
    Tain and Ashlyn sat in the car in silence for a moment before he stated the obvious. “I think we stand a better chance if you call.”
    She turned her head to the side so she could glare at him.
    He shrugged. “You don’t hate me. You hate that I’m right.”
    Her mouth twisted into a half smile as she removed the card from her pocket that she’d reluctantly taken hours before. It only took a moment for her to reach Byron Smythe and explain the reason for her call.
    “You’d like permission to search the house.” The way Smythe spoke, it wasn’t a question. It was a regurgitation of her request, with