44 Delusion in Death

by J. D. Robb

  “I don’t know about that. I’ve got a mass murderer to take down, and I don’t feel peaceful about it.”

  No, she realized, she felt revved. She felt ready. She felt right.

  “But I’m good. Quick version—I had a dream, about this, about Stella. You made a cameo appearance. I finished it off punching Stella in the face. That violent nature, I guess. It felt right, just. It felt almost finished. Pretty much done. And I look at him?”

  She turned to the board, again to Callaway. “And I see, yeah, I could’ve gone another way. I didn’t. And I like where I am. Most of the time I like who I am. That’s got to be good enough.”

  “It’s very good.”

  “I punched her in the face,” Eve repeated. “Stella. What do you think about that?”

  “I think congratulations are in order.”

  The laugh surprised her. “Is that like brava?”

  “Yes, in fact, I’ll say that. Brava.”

  “Roarke nailed that one,” Eve murmured. “So, anyway, I’m going to put a lid on it by telling Peabody what went down in Dallas. I’ve avoided that, just wasn’t ready to spill it out. It’s not right to hold back from a partner, so I’ll get that over. And it’s done. As done as I can make it.”

  “If you need me, I’m here.”

  “I know. I wouldn’t have made it through this without you. It’s not easy for me to say that, or to know that. But it’s not as hard as it used to be.”

  “That’s also good enough. I’ll leave you to work. When Agent Teasdale arranges for the Callaways to come in, as I have no doubt she will, I’d like to sit in. Or at least observe.”

  “I’ll save you a seat.”

  She went directly to her office, noted her blinking incoming for data and for messages. She found the bulk of the messages from reporters trying to skip through channels for the story. She forwarded them on to Kyung, with a brief update.

  The incoming data reminded her just how many dead lay in Morris’s house, how much of them was even now being dissected, analyzed, studied in the lab.

  Though she found nothing new, no game changer, she added the new data on each body processed to her murder book.

  She checked on surveillance. Callaway was in his office. Unless he decided to cut loose in his own department, he was as secure as she could make him at the moment.

  So she grabbed her coat, walked out to the bullpen.

  “I’m not finding anything off on the financials,” Peabody told her. “The Callaways live within their means, have a small, but steady nest egg. No major income or outlay in the last year. And no purchases of weird chemicals. They’re organic farmers.”

  “Let that go for now. I want to talk to Cattery’s wife, get a feel. If there’s time, we’ll do the same with Fisher, talk to her roommate.”

  “I’m all about it.” Peabody popped right up. “I feel like I’m swimming in the data stream and getting nowhere. Hey, I talked to Mavis,” she added, pulling on her coat as they headed out. “She couldn’t reach you so she tagged me last night.”

  “I talked to her this morning.”

  “They’ve got Belle swimming.”

  “I heard.”

  “I talked to my parents, too.” Peabody jumped on the glide behind Eve. “They’re worried, you know, just getting all that bullshit from the media. I told them enough to calm them down some, and to make sure they didn’t decide to rev up the camper and drive to New York. They were out of the Urbans, you know.”

  “I hadn’t thought about it.”

  “Well, they were young, really just getting started when all that went on. Just a couple of Free-Ager kids doing their commune thing. They made clothes, grew food for people who needed it, but they were never in the hot areas.”

  “It’s good they were.”

  “My dad said he can’t remember hearing about Red Horse at the time. It was after, like a history book footnote. A lot of people barely heard of them, or not at all. I bet everyone’s heard of them now.”

  Eve paused before they transferred to the garage elevator. “That’s a point, isn’t it? It could, maybe should’ve been a major deal, but it not only got crushed, it got buried. Some footnotes for historians and researchers, but no big play. Until now.”

  “Do you think that’s what he’s after?”

  “I think he’s a selfish, bastard coward, but it’s a factor. His grandfather might have been up there with Hitler given more time, more exposure. The powers that be snatched away his infamy. Recognition’s part of it.”

  “Jeez, who’d want to be Hitler’s grandson?”

  “People who think white’s right, lunatics, and selfish bastard cowards who want recognition.”

  “Yeah, I guess there are those, but …”

  “Your Free-Ager’s showing, Peabody. A lot of people are no damn good, and a lot of those people are proud of it.”

  She got in the car. Maybe that was an opening, she thought as she programmed Cattery’s address.

  “You should know what went down in Dallas.”

  “With McQueen?”

  “With McQueen’s partner.” She drove out of the garage, concentrated on traffic. It might be easier to lay it out if she had to pay attention to the external. “She was no damn good, and I’d say she was proud of it.”

  “She was as fucked up as he is. Maybe more.”

  “Yeah.” It tightened her belly to hear it, but she could live with it. That was the key, she reminded herself. Just living with it. “When we were looking for his partner, running the list and images of women who’d visited him in prison, something about her—as Sister Suzan—kept pulling me back. I thought maybe I’d busted her sometime, or interviewed her. Same deal with her other IDs. Just something that tugged, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.”

  Curious, Peabody shifted toward Eve. “Had you busted her?”

  “No.”

  “Maybe you just recognized the type. Instinct kicking in.”

  “That’s what I thought, but that wasn’t it. Or not all of it. You read the reports. You know we had her and her place covered. We were right there when she walked out of that townhouse, going to meet up with McQueen. Bad luck. A kid on a bike, a little dog, oncoming car. She made us, took off.”

  “I wish I’d been there. I probably wouldn’t have at the time, flying down the streets after her van, crashing. You got banged up.”

  “Not bad, it wasn’t bad.” A little bloody, a little bruised, Eve thought. The bad came later.

  “She got banged up more—no air bags, safety gel in that clunky van. And she hadn’t taken time to hook her seat belt.”

  “Good. She deserved to get banged up.”

  “I was so pissed,” Eve continued. “Afraid she’d been able to tag McQueen during the chase, knowing damn well, we’d lost the best chance to find him and get the kid and Melanie back safe. So fucking pissed.”

  All that rage, Eve thought, gushing through her like an open wound. And then …

  “I yanked her out of the van, got her blood on me. I spun her around. Stupid pink sunglasses, crooked on her face. Pulled them off her … I looked at her face, into her eyes. And I knew her.”

  It was Eve’s tone that had a chill working up Peabody’s spine. She spoke carefully. “You didn’t put that in your report.”

  “No. It didn’t have anything to do with the case. It’s personal. She went by Stella back then, where I remember her from. She’d changed her eyes, her hair, had some work done, but I knew her. I knew Stella. She was my mother.”

  “Jesus.” Peabody laid her hand on Eve’s arm, just a light touch though her fingers wanted to tremble. “You’re sure? I guess I thought she was dead. I mean, had been dead all along.”

  “I had the blood. Hers, mine. I had Roarke run DNA to verify, but I knew. I don’t remember much about her, she left me with him when I was about four or five. I’m not sure; it’s vague. But I remember enough.”

  “She left you with … did she know?” Even the thought o
f it had sickness coating Peabody’s throat. “Did she know what he did to you?”

  “She had to know. She didn’t care.”

  “But …”

  “There’s no bittersweet aside here, Peabody. She didn’t care and never had. I was a commodity, and the investment was taking too long, was too much trouble to suit her. That’s what I figure.”

  The sickness faded. It its place rose a vicious disgust, icy hot. “Did she recognize you?”

  “No. I wasn’t that important. All she saw was the cop who’d fucked up her plans with McQueen, who put her in the hospital, who was going to put her in a cage. I’d’ve put her in a cage. Maybe I should’ve put two men on her.”

  “Dallas, I read the reports. You had her restrained, and under guard. There were still cops in the hospital when she escaped.”

  “She wouldn’t tell me where McQueen was. I couldn’t flip her, and I went at her hard. Maybe too hard.”

  “Stop.” Peabody’s voice roughened and firmed. “You did the job. If you weren’t sure you could do it, you’d have gotten somebody else to sweat her. But you did the job.”

  It helped to hear it. She’d gone over every step, every move, every decision countless times, and believed she’d done everything she could. But it helped to hear it. “I was going to go back at her again. I’d bought some time, wanted to let her think about it, then go back at her. But she got out, went to McQueen, and he killed her.”

  “And you found her.”

  “She was still warm. We hadn’t missed him by much.”

  “You got Melinda Jones and Darlie Morgansten out, safe. I can’t imagine what it was like for you.” Peabody took a quiet, unsteady breath. “What it’s been like since. You had Mira,” Peabody remembered. “Thank God you had Roarke and Mira.”

  For a long moment, Peabody stared out the side window. “Dallas, you could’ve called me down. You shouldn’t have had to work that alone. I’d’ve had your back.”

  “I know it. I had to work it alone. And I’ve had to work through it. You deserve to know, but I had to work through it before I told you.”

  “I read her file.” Voice strong and steady again, Peabody shifted back. “I know who she was, what she was. Now I know she left you with an animal. It’s good she’s dead.”

  Stunned, Eve turned her head, stared. “That’s not very Free-Ager.”

  “Fuck that.” Peabody’s eyes flashed like supernovas. “Fuck tolerance and understanding. Yeah, you’d have put her in a cage for the rest of her pathetic, evil life. But maybe sometime during her rot, she’d have put it together. Maybe she’d have remembered you. She’d have used that on you; she’d have tried. Before you scared the piss out of her, if you could get to her before Roarke. If he could get there before me. And it’s good she was such a selfish, pitiful excuse for a human being so she didn’t remember you, didn’t think about you all those years. She might’ve recognized you, especially after Roarke. She might’ve seen you on screen, and recognized you, caused you more grief and trouble. Dead’s better.”

  The rant was so unPeabody, Eve sat in silence. “I’m not sure how to respond,” she decided.

  “We should go get a goddamn drink. A whole shitload of god-damn drinks.”

  “Jesus, don’t cry.”

  “I’ll cry if I fucking want to.” She sniffled, swiped. “Fucking bitch.”

  “It’s mean to call me a bitch when I’ve shared personal trauma.”

  “I didn’t mean you! I meant your—I meant McQueen’s fucking bitch. I should’ve been there for you.”

  And she’d know not to use the M word, not to say mother. That was very Peabody. “Roarke sent for Mira after McQueen killed Stella. And he had Mira bring Galahad.”

  Now the tears really rolled—big, fat drops until Peabody had to dig through her pockets to find an old tissue. “I love him.”

  “He’s a pretty good cat.”

  Wet laughter blew through the tissue. “Sure he is, but you know I meant Roarke. I love him. And if something terrible happened to McNab, I’d fight you for him. And I’ve been practicing.”

  “So warned.”

  “You’re okay?”

  Eve thought it over. “I’m okay. There’s probably going to be some rough spots here and there, but I’m okay. Sperm and egg—that’s what they were. For eight years, between the two of them, they made me a victim. They made me afraid and gave me pain. Now they’re dead. I’m not a victim. I’m not afraid. And pain? Not much. They can’t hurt me anymore, so what I have, it’s just echoes. It’ll pass.”

  She pulled up in front of the little house in Brooklyn. “Do something about your face. You’re all splotchy.”

  “Crap.” Peabody began lightly slapping her hands over her face.

  “What does that do?”

  “Makes it all red, distributes the blood. Maybe. It’ll calm down in a few minutes. Just keep Mrs. Cattery focused on you.”

  “Christ. Stay behind me.”

  Peabody got out, lifted her reddened face. “It’s really windy, and cold. It’ll just look like I’m windburned.” She took a steadying breath. “Did you tell me this when we were in the car and on our way to interview so I couldn’t hug you?”

  “It’s a side benefit.”

  “I’m going to hug you later. You won’t know when it’s coming.”

  “The same goes for my boot up your ass.”

  “That’s a given. It’s a daily surprise.”

  “Settle down, and let’s do this.”

  “It’s a nice house,” Peabody observed as they walked to the door. “Nice neighborhood.”

  “He was the only one on the team who did the campaign who didn’t live within blocks of the office.”

  “Wife and kids. Fenced yard. Dog.” She nodded toward the back. “See, doghouse.”

  “What’s in a doghouse? Mini-screen, AutoChef?”

  “Probably a ratty blanket and a collection of soup bones. How’s my face?”

  “I’ve seen worse.”

  With that ringing endorsement, Peabody angled herself slightly behind her partner as Eve knocked on the door.

  16

  Eve pegged the woman who answered as a well-toned sixty-five. Her hair, a stylishly streaky sweep, swung around a tired face currently dominated by suspicious eyes.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody, NYPSD. We—”

  “Of course, I recognize you. Have you found the person responsible for Joe?”

  “We’re pursuing all leads. We’d like to speak to Mrs. Cattery if she’s available.”

  “She’s resting. Can you talk to me? I’m her mother. I’m Dana Forest. I don’t want to disturb Elaine if there’s nothing new. She’s barely slept since—”

  “I’m up, Mom.”

  Eve caught a glimpse of the woman on the stairs. She wore a bulky sweater over blue and green sleep pants, thick red socks on her feet. Her hair, a deep, bark brown, hung in a lank tail down her back. Bruises of grief and exhaustion provided the only color in her face. If her mother looked tired, Elaine Cattery looked utterly depleted.

  “Lainey, you need some rest.”

  “Don’t worry.” She came down, leaned against her mother in a way that made them a unit. “Where are the kids?”

  “Sam and Hannah took them to the park to let the dog run, just to get them out for a little while.”

  “It’s so cold.”

  “Everyone’s bundled up. Don’t you worry.”

  “I’m sorry. We’re leaving you out in the wind. Please, come in.”

  “How about some tea?” Dana kept her arm around her daughter.

  “I’ll make some tea.”

  “That’d be great.” Elaine stepped away, moved into a living area with a bold-colored sofa, brightly striped chairs. A comfortable home, Eve thought, with cheerful colors, deep cushions, surfaces holding framed photos, flowers, pretty little bowls.

  “Sit down, won’t you? I didn’t expect … I’ve alre
ady talked to the police.”

  “I know. We’re doing a follow-up. If you could answer some questions, Mrs. Cattery.”

  “Are you seeing everyone? There are so many. So many. I’ve stopped watching the news. Are there more? Has something else happened?”

  “No, ma’am. Mrs. Cattery, there are many, too many. And every one who died deserves our time and attention.”

  “I wasn’t here, you see. I’d taken the kids to see my mother and my brother. Now they’re here, with us. But I wasn’t home. Joe was working on that campaign. He worked so hard on it, so long, and I’d just finished up a project for work. I thought I’ll get the kids out of his hair for a few days, they can keep up with school on screen, have a nice visit with my family. Everybody could just take a breath, I thought. So we weren’t here, and he didn’t come home. If I’d been here—”

  “Mrs. Cattery.” Peabody reached out, laid a hand on Elaine’s. “You can’t think that, or wonder that.”

  “That’s what my mother says, and still … I’m pregnant.” On a choked sob, Elaine pressed her fingers to her lips. “I found out, confirmed, while I was at Mom’s. We weren’t trying, weren’t not trying. We said we were finished, then we both got this itch. Let’s just see what happens, that’s what Joe said. I never got the chance to tell him. I wanted to tell him when I got home, but it was too late. I don’t know what to do now. I can’t think of what I’m going to do.”

  “I’m sorry,” Peabody murmured. “I’m so sorry for your loss. We’re going to do everything we can to find the person responsible.”

  “Will it help? My brother, he’s so angry, and he’s so sure when you find who did this, put them away, it’ll help. But Joe still won’t be here. He won’t watch his children grow up. He won’t see this one born. So I don’t know if it’ll help.”

  “It will,” Eve assured her. “Maybe not right away, but it will.

  You’ll know the person who did this won’t ever be able to hurt anyone again. He won’t ever take another father from his children.”

  “Joe never hurt anyone. He’s such a sweet man, so easygoing. Sometimes too easy, that’s what I’d tell him. He never pushed at work, and the kids could always twist him around their fingers. He never hurt anyone.”