Down the Rabbit Hole

“Have fun with that.”


“No question of it.”





EPILOGUE




After the Hatter was brought in, Eve took a few minutes in Observation to study him. Tall and skinny, long face, long body, he sat in his prison jumpsuit with a cagey smile on his face and eyes of so pale a gray they seemed almost colorless.

Confident and cocky, she concluded, at least on the outside, but she noted the way his fingers tapped, tapped, tapped on the table as if he played a tune on invisible keys.

“He figures his ability gives him an edge,” she said to Peabody. “That he’ll read us, and use that to tangle things up.”

“Or put the you-know-what on us.”

“You can skip this,” she reminded her partner. “I told McNab to take you home.”

“No way I’m missing this part. Should I think of sex with McNab again?”

“Whatever works.” She pulled out her ’link, read the detailed message from Roarke. “The man is good,” she murmured. “Three hidden accounts, three different names—all leading back to the Hatter—who, according to Feeney’s search, is actually Louis Carroll Ravenwood, born Devonshire, England, in 1999—one sibling, Alice.”

“So he was who he was until the sister self-terminated.”

“Prior to, he and the sister—big surprise—worked the carny circuit.”

Eve looked back through the glass. “Add the money and the false IDs to the whole bunch of drugs Illegals found in his house, and he’s not going to look so happy when we’re done. Let’s go wipe that smile off his face.”

He looked over as they came in, and his smile turned into a grin.

“Dallas, Lieutenant Eve and Peabody, Detective Delia entering interview with Ravenwood, Louis Carroll—”

“I’m Doctor Bright.”

Eve just kept speaking. “On the matters of case numbers . . .” She reeled off many as she took a seat across from him. “Mr. Ravenwood, you’ve—”

“I prefer Doctor Bright.”

“You’ve been read your rights,” she continued. “Do you understand your rights and obligations in these matters?”

“I understand perfectly, and so much more. How are you feeling?”

“Better than you will. A hell of a lot better than your two pals are. They’re getting jittery. That’s what happens when addicts don’t get their fix. I figure they’ll roll on you within twenty-four, but I don’t need them. Peabody, why don’t you list the illegals found in our guest’s home?”

Peabody took out her PPC and crisply read off the report from Illegals.

“Quite a collection.” She kept her eyes on his, actually felt him try to probe her thoughts—and pushed her will against his. “That alone’s going to get you a nice long stay in a cage. Add in using said illegals on individuals without their consent or knowledge—”

“They come to me.” He played his fingers in the air. “They come seeking my help. I give them what they seek. We cross the bridge together, and the crossing requires peace. A quiet mind, quiet, relaxed, still.” His fingers played, played, as if stroking a purring cat. “Imagine drifting under a blue sea, under a blue sky. See the clouds, white and soft.”

He had something, she thought, and it pulled. But it wasn’t enough without the kick of his herbs and chemicals. She leaned closer. “You think you can mesmerize me? You’re a fraud. You’ve been a fraud your whole life. You just figured out how to use a mediocre talent to get rich and feel important.”

“Mediocre!” He slapped his hands on the table. “My gift is beyond. My beyond is genius!”

“Your gift is bullshit, Ravenwood. Or should I call you Niles Carroll? Maybe Angus Roland or Anton Zacari or Fran?ois Simon?”

Something flickered in his eyes—the first hint of fear.