by J. D. Robb
“I don’t know anything about it.” His voice quavered. He took a breath, laid his hand over Leila’s as if for support. Their fingers linked and his voice came stronger. “I’ve never harmed anyone in my life. It’s against everything I believe, everything I’ve made myself. I’ve told you. I held nothing back from you, trusting you to understand.”
“Do you own a black robe? Natural silk, wrap style, floor length?”
“I own many robes. But I don’t care for black.”
Eve held a hand out, waited until Peabody put the sealed garment into it. “Then you don’t recognize this?”
“It’s not mine.” He seemed to relax a little. “That doesn’t belong to me.”
“No? Yet it was found in a chest in the bedroom of the apartment you share with Isis. Carelessly, perhaps quickly hidden under a stack of other robes. There’s blood on it, Mr. Forte. Wineburg’s blood.”
“No.” He cringed back. “That’s not possible.”
“It’s a fact. Your representative is free to study the lab report. I wonder if Isis will recognize it. It might…jog her memory.”
“She has nothing to do with this. Nothing to do with any of this.” Panic had him lurching up. “You can’t suspect her of—”
“Of what?” Eve cocked her head. “Of being an accessory? She lives with you, works with you, she sleeps with you. Even if she’s just been protecting you, it puts her in it.”
“She can’t be drawn into this. She can’t be put through this. Leave her alone.” He leaned forward, resting trembling hands on the table. “Leave her alone. Promise me that, and I’ll tell you whatever you want to hear.”
“Chas.” Leila stood, put a firm hand on his shoulder. “Sit down. Don’t say anything else. My client has nothing further to say at this time, Lieutenant. I need to confer with him and request privacy to do so.”
Eve took her measure. The woman no longer looked young and sad-eyed, but cool and determined. “There won’t be a deal, counselor, not on this one.” She rose, signaled Peabody. “But a full confession might get him a psych facility rather than a maximum lockup. Think about it.”
She swore under her breath once she was outside the room. “She’ll put a lid on him. He’ll do what she tells him because he’s too scared not to.”
Eve paced a yard down the corridor then back. “I’ve got to get to Mira. She’s bound to be done by now with testing. You contact the PA’s office. We need somebody down here. Maybe if we have a prosecutor talk to his rep lawyer to lawyer, we can open it up.”
“Isis cracked him.” Peabody glanced back toward the door as they headed away. “He really loves her.”
“There’s all kinds of love, isn’t there?”
“I don’t get why he had sex with Mirium.”
“There’s all kinds of sex, too. Some is straight manipulation.” She turned into her office to call Mira.
chapter twenty
Delusional, sociopathic, an addictive and easily influenced personality. Eve tossed Mira’s report aside. She hadn’t needed a psychiatrist to tell her Mirium was a lunatic with no conscience. She’d seen that for herself.
Or that she had obsessive leanings toward the occult, a low intelligence quotient, and a capacity for violence.
Mira’s recommendation for further testing, and for treatment as a mentally defective might have been sound, but it didn’t change the facts.
Mirium had butchered a man in cold blood, and would more than likely do her time in the quiet rooms of a mental health facility.
The truth testing hadn’t been much more helpful. It indicated the subject was telling the truth—as the subject saw the truth. There were gaps and hitches and confusion.
Likely due, Eve noted, glancing at the drug scan results, from having a half dozen illegal substances bouncing around in her system.
“Lieutenant?” Peabody stepped in, waited for Eve to look up. “Schultz from the PA’s office just tagged me.”
“What’s the status?”
“The lawyer won’t budge. She’s pushing for a truth test, but Forte keeps refusing. Schultz thinks she’s stalling, says she wants forty-eight to study all the reports and evidence. It’ll keep Forte in since bail was denied, but she’s insisting. Schultz thinks Forte’s ready to roll over, but she’s keeping him on a short leash.”
“Schultz give you all that?”
“Yeah, well, I think he was looking to make time. Fresh divorce.”
“Oh.” Eve lifted a brow. “And he likes a woman in uniform.”
“I’d say it’s more like he likes a human with breasts at this point. Bottom line, he doesn’t think we’re getting any more tonight. The lawyer exercised her client’s right for minimum break. Schultz agreed to talk more in the morning. He’s headed out.”
“All right. Maybe it’s best to give them both time to stew. We’ll swing by Isis’s place. May be able to shake her.”
“You’ve got it pretty well wrapped.” Peabody fell into step beside her. “You’ll be able to relax some tonight at the party.”
“Party?” Eve stopped dead. “Mavis’s party? That’s tonight? Hell.”
“So speaks the party animal,” Peabody said dryly. “Personally, I’m looking forward to it. It’s been a shitty week.”
“Halloween’s supposed to be for kids, so they can blackmail adults into forking over junk food. Grown men and women running around in dopey costumes. It’s embarrassing.”
“Actually it’s an old, revered tradition with its roots in earth religions.”
“Don’t get started,” Eve warned as they rode down to the garage. She eyed Peabody suspiciously. “You’re not actually wearing a costume.”
“How else can I guarantee getting my share of candy?” Peabody brushed some lint from the front of her uniform.
The store was dark, and so was the apartment. No one answered the knock on any door. Eve considered, checked her watch. “I’m going to stake it out for a couple of hours. I’d rather hit her tonight.”
“She’s probably at the sabbat ceremony.”
“I don’t figure she’s in the mood for naked dancing under the circumstances. I’ll stick. You can catch transpo from here.”
“I can stay.”
“It’s not necessary. If she doesn’t show in a couple hours, I’ll head to Mavis’s.”
“Like that?” Peabody scanned Eve’s faded jeans, worn boots, and battered jacket. “Don’t you want to wear something more…festive?”
“No. I’ll see you there.” Eve climbed back in the car, lowered the window. “So, what are you wearing?”
“It’s a secret,” Peabody said with a grin and walked off to catch a tram home.
“Embarrassing,” Eve decided, and settling back, engaged her ’link. The system put her through to Roarke at his midtown office.
“Just caught me,” he told her, and noted the edge of the steering wheel on the monitor. “Obviously, you’re not at home getting yourself ready for tonight’s festivities.”
“Obviously not. I’ve got a couple more hours here, so I’ll meet you at Mavis’s. We can duck out early.”
“I can see you’re already looking forward to an exciting evening.”
“Halloween.” She glanced over as a ghoul, a six-foot pink rabbit, and a mutant transexual crossed the street in front of her car. “I just don’t get it.”
“Darling Eve, for some it’s simply an excuse to be foolish. For others it’s a serious holy day. Samhain, the beginning of Celtic winter. The beginning of the year, the turn of it with the old dying and the new yet unborn. On this night the veil between is very thin.”
“Boy.” She gave a mock shudder. “Now I’m spooked.”
“Tonight we’ll concentrate on using it as an excuse to be foolish. Want to get drunk and have wild sex?”
“Yeah.” Her lips twitched. “That sounds pretty good.”
“We could get started now. A little ’link sex.”
“That would be illegal over an official lin
e. Besides, you never know when Dispatch is going to get nosey.”
“Then I won’t mention how much I want to get my hands on you. My mouth on you. How exciting it is to feel you under me, when I’m inside you and you arch back, struggling to breathe and fist your hands in my hair.”
“No, don’t mention it,” she told him as the muscles in her thighs tingled and went lax. “I’ll see you in a couple hours. We’ll, ah, go home early. Then you could mention it.”
“Eve?”
“Yeah?”
“I adore you.” With a silky, satisfied smile on his face, he disengaged.
She blew out a long, slow breath. “When am I going to get used to this?” she muttered.
The sex was mind-scrambling enough. She’d never thought of the act as any more than a necessary and mildly pleasurable physical release. Until Roarke. He could turn her dry-mouthed and needy with a look. But more was the hold he had on her heart in that firm, possessive grip that was alternately comforting and terrifying.
She’d never understood the demanding power of love.
Frowning, she looked back at the apartment across the street. Hadn’t that been what she’d seen there? Power and love? Isis was a strong, powerful woman. Could love have blinded her so completely?
It wasn’t impossible, Eve mused. But it was…disappointing, she admitted. For herself, she knew Roarke had spent much of his life skirting the law. Hell, she thought, he’d stomped on it.
She knew he’d stolen, cheated, finagled. She knew he’d killed. The abused child from the mean streets of Dublin had done what he’d needed to do to survive. Then had done as he’d liked to profit. She couldn’t entirely blame him for either.
Yet, if he used his power and his position today to kill, what would she do? Would she stop loving him? She wasn’t sure, but she was sure that she would know. And the code that she lived by wouldn’t allow her to turn a blind eye to murder.
Maybe the code Isis lived by wasn’t as strong.
And yet, as she sat in the dark with the sharp little teeth of the wind biting at her windows, she found she couldn’t balance it.
Forte had all but confessed now, she reminded herself. Once she’d confronted him with the robe, with the evidence, he’d started toward surrender.
That wasn’t entirely true, she thought. It was when she’d brought Isis into it that he’d changed directions.
Protecting her. Shielding her. Sacrificing for her.
With a new theme playing in her mind, she got out of the car, crossed the street.
A number of people wandered the street, many of them in costumes. Even as she stepped over the curb, a gaggle of teenagers rushed by, making enough noise to wake the dead. No one paid any attention to a lone woman in a leather jacket climbing the stairs to a dark apartment.
She stood on the landing a moment, scanning the street, the surrounding buildings. It was an area where people minded their own business, she decided. And wouldn’t the neighbors be accustomed to seeing people—perhaps the-less-than-usual type of person—going up and into the apartment.
To test her theory farther, Eve tried the door. Finding it locked, she simply fished a master code out of her pocket. She had the door open in seconds and waited just outside it for the sound of a security alarm.
There was only silence inside.
No security, she decided, and resisted the temptation to go in. The average civilian wouldn’t have access to a master, but there were other ways of popping unsecured locks.
Hadn’t the apartment been empty the day before? With both Forte and Isis at Central, how easy would it have been for someone to slip in, to plant a bloodstained robe in an obvious place?
Eve shut the door again and stood arguing with herself. Mirium had implicated him. She’d said his name as she sat on the floor, blood still running from her hands.
Delusional, sociopathic, easily influenced.
Damn it. Eve trooped down the steps, back to her car. The evidence was there, wasn’t it? Motive, opportunity. It was a fucking textbook checklist. She even had a confessed accomplice in custody.
An accomplice he’d been sleeping with on the side. Having sex in Central Park, using his influence to bring her into the coven right under his lover’s nose.
It fit, she told herself. And that was the trouble. It slid so well into place it was as if someone had oiled the slot. All you had to do was leave out love—selfless, devoted, unquestioning love. Add that, and it scraped along the sides of that slot, screaming in protest.
If there was a chance it was a setup, and that she was being used to make it click, she was damn well going to find out. She considered calling Peabody, started to reach for her ’link, when she heard the scream. She was out of the car, her hand on her weapon, when she spotted the black-robed figure dragging a woman into the shadows.
“Police.” She rushed forward, drawing. “Back off.”
He did more than that. He ran. When Eve reached the woman, she was lying facedown, moaning. Holstering her weapon, she crouched down.
“How bad did he hurt you?” As she rolled the woman over, she saw the glint of a blade. It was pressed, keen-edged, against her stomach before she saw Selina’s face.
“All I have to do is push, just a little.” Selina smiled. “I’d enjoy that. But for now…” Her hand tapped against Eve’s throat. She felt the pressure and the sting an instant before her vision blurred.
“Now you’re going to help me to the car. Or it’s going to look that way if anyone notices.” Smiling, Selina put her arms around Eve, keeping close so it appeared she was being lifted to her feet. “And if you don’t do exactly what I say, your guts will hit the sidewalk and I’ll be gone before you realize you’re dead.”
Eve’s head was swimming, her legs like rubber as Selina led her down the sidewalk. “Get in,” Selina ordered, “slide over.”
She found herself obeying dully, while a part of her mind screamed in protest. “Not so smart now, are you, Lieutenant Dallas? Not so cool. We led you right where we wanted you. Stupid bitch. How do you set this thing to auto?”
“I—” She couldn’t think. Fear couldn’t get through the haze, nor could anger or training. She stared blankly at the controls. “Auto?”
Her voice was enough. The vehicle shuddered, then hummed discordantly.
“I don’t believe you’re in any shape to drive.” Selina threw back her head and laughed. “Give it the address. My apartment. We have a very special ceremony in mind for you.”
Mechanically, Eve repeated the address and stared straight ahead as the vehicle slowly slid from the curb. “Not Forte,” she managed, struggling to snap back. “It was never him.”
“That pathetic excuse for a man? He couldn’t kill a fly if it landed on his dick. If he’s got one. But he and that half-breed Wiccan are going to pay. You’ve seen to that, haven’t you? They thought they could save poor little Alice. Well, so did her stupid grandfather. See where it got them. No one challenges me and lives. You’ll find out just how much power I have very soon now. And you’ll beg me to kill you and end it.”
“You killed them all.”
“Every one of them.” Selina leaned closer. “And more. Many more. I enjoy the children most. They’re so…fresh. I walked right in on the grandfather, used his weakness for females. Sobbed, told him I was afraid for my life. Alban would kill me. Then I slipped the drugs into his drink and I killed him. I wanted blood but, well, it was nearly as satisfying to watch his eyes as he realized he was dying. You’ve seen how the eyes die first, haven’t you, Dallas? They die first.”
“Yes.” The mists were moving back to the corners of her mind. She could feel her legs and arms tingle as the nerves pumped back to life. “Yes, they do.”
“And Alice. I was almost sorry when we had to end that. Tormenting her day after day was so arousing. They way she would jump at a cat or a bird. Droids. Easily programmed. We used the cat that night, had it speak to her with my voice. We were waiting for her, we
had plans for her, but she ran into the street and killed herself instead.
“So we’ll do to you what we’d planned for her. Here we are now.”
As the car veered toward the curb, Eve tested her hand, forced it into a fist. She struck out, backhanded, felt the satisfying connection with flesh and bone. Then the door was wrenched open behind her, hands clenched around her throat.
And the world went black.
“She should be here by now.” Though her apartment was filled with people and noise and wildly spinning lights, Mavis pouted. “She promised.”
“She’ll be right along.” Roarke managed to avoid being butted by a red-robed bull, lifted a brow at the manic call of “Toro!” An angel spun by, desperately dancing with a headless corpse.
“I really wanted her to see what Leonardo and I have done with the place.” Proud, Mavis turned a quick circle. “She’d never recognize her old digs, would she?”
Roarke scanned the magenta walls with their uninhibited splashes and streaks of cerise and periwinkle. The furniture consisted of heaps of glossy pillows and glass tubes. In keeping with the event, streamers of orange and black swayed everywhere. Skeletons danced, witches flew, and black cats arched.
“No.” He could agree with complete honesty. “She’d never recognize her old apartment. You’ve done…wonders.”
“We just love it. And we’ve got the best landlord on planet.” She kissed him enthusiastically.
While he hoped her purple lipstick hadn’t transferred to his face, he smiled. “My favorite tenant.”
“Could you call her, Roarke?” With fingers tipped the same shade, she plucked at his sleeve. “Just give her a little goose.”
“Of course. Go play hostess, and don’t worry. I’ll get her here.”
“Thanks.” She rolled off on glittery, red-wheeled shoes.
Roarke turned with the idea of hunting up somewhere quiet to make his call, then blinked at the apparition. “Peabody?”
Her elaborately painted face fell. “You recognized me.”
