The First Cut Read Online Free Page A

for the briefing room. Nan stepped out and turned in the other direction. She walked down the hallway past a display case with a collection of antique police badges donated by a retired officer. Framed newspaper pages showing the World Trade Center towers just after the attacks and patriotic posters lined the walls.
    At the end of the hall was the Detectives Section. She punched in the access code and entered a large, open room filled with cubicles upholstered in pearl gray fabric, looking like cubes in an office anywhere. Affixed to the outside of each were computer-made signs printed on white paper in bold type: Missing Persons, Assaults, Residential Burglary, Commercial Burglary, Auto Theft, Financial Crimes, Robbery, Sex Assaults/Runaways, Domestic Violence, Homicide.
    “Poison Ivy!” A nickname she hated boomed from a man who was not her ally.
    “Hey, Pickachu.” It was the first time she’d ever called Tony Ruiz by his moniker. It was apt as he resembled the squat, rotund cartoon character, but she had found it mean, even if the department nicknames were presumably uttered with familial affection. Today she was trying to be game. The style didn’t come naturally to her. Most things about cop work did, but not the jiving, joking, buddy-making part. Ruiz wouldn’t warm to her no matter what she did. His enmity wasn’t caused by anything she had actively done. She was a victim of association. There was no love lost between Ruiz and Lieutenant Bill Gavigan, who had taken Vining under his wing from the time she was a rookie and he was a patrol sergeant. Sometimes Vining thought Ruiz disliked her simply because she was taller. He was having the last laugh. After years of trying, he finally had her job.
    Ruiz had made the obligatory visit to her hospital room but hadn’t contacted her after that. That was fine with her. She didn’t find his presence particularly healing.
    Heads began popping up like prairie dogs over the tops of cubicles.
    “Look who’s back.”
    “Ivy’s here.”
    “Hey, Quick Draw. Howyadoin’?”
    Vining cringed at that nickname, too, but took it in stride, slapping palms and accepting hugs.
    “Heard they transferred you to Community Services, Vining.”
    “I couldn’t get the stench of the second floor off me. I’m ruined for any other job.”
    “I hear that running the Citizen’s Police Academy is very rewarding.”
    “So is teaching Sunday school. I haven’t heard about you doing that.”
    Vining peeked into Jim Kissick’s cubicle. He wasn’t there.
    “Kissick’s probably in the can,” Ruiz offered.
    “Whoa. You’ve got a story to tell the grandkids, huh?” A young man who looked vaguely familiar to Vining was pointing at her scar. Everyone else had the good manners to look without really looking.
    “I don’t believe we’ve met.” Vining extended her hand over the cubicle, her gaze cool. She guessed he was in his twenties. She detected a callow cockiness that sometimes got young cops into trouble.
    His eyes dropped from her scar to her bust.
    Only the top button of her blouse was undone. The fabric was medium blue and not transparent. She was wearing a jacket and was lean anyway, so there was nothing to see. Vining pitied the women who stumbled across this scumbag.
    He finished his once-over before grasping her palm. “Alex Caspers. Like the friendly ghost with an s. ”
    “You can ignore him,” one of the guys said. “He’s rotating out of Residential Burglary at the end of this week. He can’t wait. He doesn’t like it up here with us.”
    The department had four rotational spots in detectives for patrol officers. The positions lasted one year and were generally in property crimes.
    “You detectives have too much paperwork,” Caspers said. “I need to get back on the street where the action is, homes.”
    “She’s ba-ack.” Detective Sergeant Kendra Early rounded the corner and enveloped Vining in a bear hug. She was forty, African American, shorter than