“You think he gave a rat’s ass about you?” Baxter demanded with a laugh. “You were a vehicle, a piece on the board.”
“I think he liked Lucius here okay,” Eve added. “And he admired certain skills. Like building jammers, figuring out how to get through security systems. While he built the bombs. He knows he’s done.”
She looked at Singa. “Just like your lawyer knows I’m not bullshitting. He gave us everything, like how this all started after Banks fed you some inside scoop on the merger. You and Silverman sitting around, drinking and shooting the shit, and you.” She pointed at Iler. “You come up with the idea.”
“No, I—”
“Lie, it’s done. Maybe you were just bullshitting, playing what if, but it started rolling from there. I don’t need anything from you.”
“We have a deal on the table,” Singa said.
“Yeah, I talked to APA Reo, and we agreed to go ahead with the deal. Save time and grief, just like I said before. One lie, deal’s void. Was that also made clear?”
“It was,” Singa agreed. “Lucius, you need to cooperate.”
“I said I would.”
But he sat, silently.
“Did you know he dragged the Chenowitz kid—August, six years old—up to the roof of the house, held a knife to his throat? Drew blood? He’d planned on killing the kid anyway, so no harm using him as a shield.”
“He wouldn’t do that. Ollie wouldn’t do that.”
Eve slapped both hands on the table. “You know he would. You know it. You could pretend otherwise as long as it all worked for you and you banked that profit. But you fucking knew what he was inside.”
“I would never harm a child.”
“Just terrify them.”
“I did what I could to keep them calm,” Iler countered. “I’d never have allowed Ollie to physically hurt one of the children.”
“How did you plan to stop him?”
“He’d listen to me. We’re a team. The point is, and it’s important. I never killed anyone.”
“Eighteen.”
“No, you see, those men, those two men made a choice. They had a choice. They could have gone to the police instead.”
“And had their families killed.”
“No, no, no, that was a bluff. Just a bluff.”
“‘A bluff.’” Eve opened the file, tossed out photos of both crime scenes. The charred bodies, the pieces of the dead. “A bluff.”
“They had a choice,” Iler insisted. “They could have called the bluff. I admit we bear some responsibility, but—”
“‘Some responsibility.’” She lunged up, lunged across the table. “You had him wired, had him wear a recorder so you could see—and so he could hear his wife and child screaming. You beat the women, threatened rape.”
“I never touched them. I swear it. I swear it. I agree Ollie could go too far, but I held him back.”
“Did you hold him back when he snapped Banks’s neck? Lie to me, you fuck. Please lie.”
“I—he—Jordan was blackmailing me.”
“You killed him for it.”
“Ollie did. I could never—”
“Did you help dump his body in the water? Lie to me,” she urged.
“I didn’t know what else to do.” Tears started seeping down his face. “I didn’t know.”
“Did you and Oliver Silverman break and enter into the residence of Paul Rogan, Cecily Greenspan, Melody Greenspan Rogan with the intent and purpose of imprisoning said family?”
“I . . . yes.”
“Did you or your partner physically assault both adults?”
“Yes.”
“Did you or your partner batter Cecily Greenspan and threaten to sexually assault her?”
His shoulders shook with sobs. “Yes, but—”
“Did you, over the course of time from the early hours Saturday through Monday morning threaten, assault, and coerce Mr. Rogan, keeping his child separated, causing her to cry out for him, with the purpose of making him choose to carry an explosive device into the Quantum Air headquarters, to wear said device into a scheduled meeting, to detonate said device, killing himself and others in order to save his family?”
“We were bluffing.”
“Did you threaten, repeatedly, to kill Rogan’s wife and child if he did not carry out the bombing?”
“Yes, yes, yes, but—”
“I’m going to start considering your stupid buts an evasion and negate this deal. I would love to think about you living the rest of your worthless life off-planet. Deep space, no air unless they pump it in.”
“Please.”
“Did you and Silverman arrange to meet Jordan Banks at approximately three A.M. in Central Park, and did you stand as an accessory to his murder by Silverman?”
Iler buried his face in his hands. “Yes. Please stop.”
“When we’re done.”
And when they were done, she called on Mira to give Iler a sedative.
“I want to high five,” Baxter told Eve, “but I can’t work up to it. He was pathetic. Just goddamn pathetic.”
“Go home, get some sleep instead. Good work.”
“Yeah. Hey Trueheart,” he called as his partner came out of Observation. “Let’s you and me hit that diner you like, have ourselves a big, greasy breakfast. Get the taste of this out of our mouths.”
“Works for me. Do you want to come, Lieutenant?”
“No, thanks. Good work, Trueheart.”
She started to turn toward Homicide when Anna Whitney came out, flanked by Roarke and the commander.
“Jack’s annoyed with me,” she said briskly. “I’d agreed to stay only for the first few minutes of each interview. But I wouldn’t leave. I couldn’t. I’m going to see Rozilyn now. Thank you for finding justice for a good man.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Jack.”
“All right, all right. Go home, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir. I’m just going to write this up, connect with Reo, then—”
“No. I’ll write it up.”
“You? But—”
His eyebrows lowered. “Do you doubt I can handle that duty, Lieutenant?”
“No, sir.”
“You’re dismissed. You’re on medical leave until the start of your shift on Monday morning. You’re off the roll. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good work, Dallas. Fine work. If I see you here five minutes from now, I’ll kick your ass.”
He took his wife’s hand, walked away.
“I’d say that was clear enough.” Roarke took Eve’s.
“He probably hasn’t done this kind of paperwork in ten years. Twenty.”
“Let’s get your coat.”
“I should be able to tie up my own ends.”
He kissed her hand before she could snatch it away. “Lieutenant, do you want your ass—which is surely already carrying bruises—kicked by your commander?”
“No.” She let Roarke help her into her coat. “No,” she said again.
“Let’s go get some sleep. Unless you’d like a big, greasy breakfast first.”
“Sleep. Good work, Peabody.”
“Thanks.”
He got her down to the garage, into the car. Before he’d pulled out, she was getting a head start on that sleep.
Epilogue
She slept for twelve hours, woke starving and ate like a horse. Because it ached enough—and Roarke wouldn’t take no—she agreed to a soaking treatment, more wanding, the ice patches.
She snuck into her home office long enough to read Whitney’s work. Had to admit he did the job well. Maybe she wanted to fiddle, just a little, but she had a feeling the commander would notice.
And maybe kick her ass.
Sprawled on the sofa with Roarke, she dropped off again while watching a vid, slept straight through—dreamless—until nearly noon.
She swam, dozed, snuck in a quick check with Reo. Both prisoners would get their psych evals, their sentencing hearings—and the PA’s office expressed full confidence Iler would be remanded to an on-planet maximum security prison, while Silverman would make Omega his new home.
Eighteen consecutive life sentences.
Satisfied with that, Eve took a walk around the grounds with Roarke. Then ate a huge bowl of spaghetti and meatballs.
Submitted to more ice patches.
Breathed a sigh of relief on Sunday when Roarke finally pronounced, “You’ll do.”
She did well enough to indulge in a fairly energetic bout of sex.
And felt in tune enough to bitch when he settled her down in front of the screen.
“Why do we have to watch all this pregame stuff?”
“Because I’m not going to miss watching our great good friends on the red carpet of the Oscars. You’ve got enough popcorn to give you solace.”