Next to Utley was the LAO, or head LAPD legal affairs officer, a tall black captain named Line Something. Next to him was yours truly in my borrowed Trojans sweatshirt and rain-soaked windbreaker. Behind me stood Lieutenant Matthews, the deputy commander of PSB. But by far the most bitter flavor in this alphabet soup was the chief of detectives. The COD was my own wife, Alexa. She stepped across the threshold seconds later and frowned.

Lieutenant Matthews closed the large double doors to the chiefs office, signaling the start of the meeting.

"Detective Scully, I'm not sure you know FBI Agent Ophelia Love," Chief Filosiani said without a trace of the cordiality that usually marked his demeanor. He indicated a tall, lanky blonde in her mid-thirties whom I'd missed during my first quick scan of the room because she was seated against the far wall near a mahogany console.

Agent Love immediately stood at the mention of her name. She wore a cheap off-the-rack tan pantsuit and had a careless beauty that was partially disguised by rawboned farm-girl features, the most startling of which were piercing ice-blue eyes.

"Bob, whats going on?" I asked my union rep. I already knew the answer, but it's always better to play dumb at these things and let the other guy go first.

"Regarding the Venture investigation, you've been charged with felony case-tampering and blackmail " the chief said, cutting in and answering my question.

"I don't know what you're talking about." My heart rate was inadvertently beginning to rise. Were into it now, I thought.

"You can deny it, Detective, but your own partner was the one who brought this to our attention. And her concerns have been independently corroborated by Agent Love and the FBI."

"Detective Quinn turned me in?"

Sally Quinn was my partner at Homicide Special. We had only been working together for about a year. She'd been out of rotation on maternity leave for the last six months and had just returned to duty.