by J. D. Robb
She stopped herself, seemed to draw in. “But I’m circling the point. I was persuasive as Anja. I know it.”
“Yes, very. I didn’t recognize you, not physically. Emotions, Areena. Who had the strongest motive, not only to kill him, but to make him pay in front of an audience? To end his life, just as Vole’s was ended? Who had been the most betrayed, the most used? Once I eliminated Carly, there was one answer: Anja Carvell.”
“If you’d eliminated Carly, why did you put her through that horror?”
“Anja Carvell,” Eve went on, ignoring the question. “She struck me as a strong, self-possessed, and very direct woman. But how did she switch the knives? I imagine she’d have found a way, and still it didn’t quite work. For one simple reason. She would have needed to hold the knife herself, to strike the blow for the child she’d given up to protect.”
“Yes, you’re right. I would have left it to no one else.”
“When I thought of you and her, I saw it. You changed your look, your voice, your attitude. But there are things you didn’t change, or couldn’t. There,” Eve said, gesturing. “You reach up as you’re doing now, toying with a necklace—or as Anja, with the top button of your dress—when you’re formulating what you’re going to say and how best to say it.”
“Such a small thing.”
“There are others. They add up. You can change the color, even the shape of your eyes, but not the look in them when your temper spikes or grief grabs you. You couldn’t hide the purpose in them, for that one moment, when you locked eyes with Richard onstage. That instant before you killed him. I only had to think of Anja and you to realize you were one person.”
“So you outwitted me.” Areena got to her feet. “You’ve solved the puzzle and upheld what you see as justice. Brava, Lieutenant. I imagine you’ll sleep the sleep of the righteous tonight.”
Eve kept her eyes locked on Areena’s. “Peabody, escort Ms. Mansfield to the black-and-white unit waiting outside.”
“Yes, sir. Ms. Mansfield?”
“Eve.” Roarke murmured it as their footsteps echoed offstage.
She shook her head, knowing she had to hold him off, hold herself together. “Feeney, do we have the full record?”
“Clear as a bell, Dallas, and fully admissible. She waived her rights.”
“We’re done here. Close it up.”
“Will do. Meet you at Central. Good job. Damn good job.”
“Yeah.” She squeezed her eyes shut as Roarke laid a hand on her shoulder. “Thanks for the help. We got through it. No muss, no fuss.”
She resisted when he tried to turn her to face him. He simply stepped around her. “Don’t do this.”
“I’m fine. I have to go in, deal with this.”
“I’ll go with you.” He tightened his grip when she started to shake her head. “Eve, do you think I would leave you alone at such a time?”
“I said I’m fine.”
“Liar.”
She gave up, gave in, let him hold her. “I looked at her, I looked in her eyes and I wondered how I would have felt, what it would have been like to have someone care so much about me, someone who’d have done anything to save me from him. And then, looking at her, I trapped her using the thing she loved most.”
“No. You saved the thing she loved most. We both know that.”
“Did I? No, that’s Mira’s job.” She drew a deep breath. “I want to close this thing. I need to make it over.”
• • •
Paperwork could be a soothing routine. She used it, writing her report with the dispassionate and brutal efficiency required. She filed it, adding all the evidence gathered.
“Lieutenant?”
“Shift’s nearly over, Peabody. Go home.”
“I will. I wanted you to know Mansfield’s finished in booking. She’s asked to see you.”
“All right. Set it up, Interview One, if available. Then take off.”
“Happy to.”
Eve turned in her chair to where Roarke stood, looking at her miserable view. “Sorry. I have to do this. Why don’t you go home?”
“I’ll wait.”
She said nothing, only rose and made her way down to Interview.
Areena was already there, sitting quietly at the small table. She quirked her lips in a sneer. “I can’t say I think much of the wardrobe choices in this place.” She fingered the collarless top of the dull gray state issue.
“We’ve got to get a new designer. Record on—”
“Is that necessary?”
“Yes, I’m required to put any conversations with you on record. For your protection and mine. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, in Interview One with Mansfield, Areena, at her request. Ms. Mansfield, you’ve been given your rights, do you choose to implement any or all of them at this time?”
“No, I have something to say to you. You knew it was me,” she said, leaning forward. “You were perfectly aware it was me, before we came into the theater today.”
“We’ve been over this ground.”
“I’m asking you if you had any proof before my confession?”
“What difference does it make? I have your confession.”
“For my own curiosity. The attorney I intend to hire will be entitled to that information, which will be relayed to me. Save us the middleman.”
“All right. Acting on my suppositions as regarded Anja Carvell, I ordered voice print analyses between your statements and hers. Though you had altered your tone, your rhythm, effectively disguising your voice to the naked ear, the voice prints were an exact match. As fingerprints are. Several of yours were found in the room registered to Carvell. Strands of hair, both from a synthetic wig matching the shade worn by Carvell and those of your shade, and your DNA, were found in the aforementioned suite. Both were also found, on a warranted sweep of your penthouse in the same hotel.”
“I see. I should have researched police procedure. I was careless.”
“No, you weren’t. You were human, which makes it impossible to think of everything.”
“You managed it.” Areena leaned back now, a considering look in her eye as she studied Eve. “You had enough evidence to bring me in here for questioning, to throw my deception in my face, use my relationship with Richard, with Carly, to break me. Instead, you chose to do so at the theater. In front of Carly.”
“You might not have broken here. I banked on it working the other way.”
“No, you’d have broken me. We both know it. I couldn’t stand against you. You did it in front of Carly for a very specific reason. You did it for her.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I’m off shift.”
Before she could rise, Areena gripped her hand. “You did it for her. She has to live with knowing what the father who made her was capable of. What he did to her. Knowing what he was, and that what he was runs inside her could twist her, scar her.”
“She’ll live with it.” Every day, Eve thought. Every night.
“Yes, she will. But you made sure she saw more than that. You showed her that the other part who made her would protect her at all costs. Would sacrifice her own freedom to insure hers. Could love her that much. You showed her that there’s decency, loyalty, and strength of purpose in her blood. One day, when she’s settled, when she heals, she’ll realize that. She may think of me kindly. When she realizes that, Lieutenant Dallas, I hope she has the courage to thank you as I’m thanking you now.”
She closed her eyes tightly, inhaled deeply. “Can I have some water, please?”
Eve walked over, drew a cup. “You’ll both pay for what he did. There’s no way to stop that.”
“I know.” Areena sipped, cooled her throat. “But she’s young and strong. She’ll find a way to beat it back.”
“She’ll have help. Dr. Mira will counsel her. She’s the best.”
“I appreciate knowing that. I was so proud of the way she faced you down today. She’s tough. And she’s lovely, isn’t she?”
“Yes, very.”
“I couldn’t bear what he did to her. Couldn’t bear thinking he might do so again.” Tears rose, were battled back.
Fragile? Eve thought. Not in this lifetime.
“With Quim,” Areena continued, “it was difficult for me. I was afraid. But he was an ugly little man, and I’d had my fill of ugly little men. Lieutenant?”
“Yes.”
“Will you, when I’m in prison, will it be possible to get an update on Carly’s state of mind, on how she is? Nothing intrusive. Just if there’s a way I could be told she’s all right.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Eve hesitated, swore. “Record off,” she ordered, and blanked out the sound and visual to observation. “Get a lawyer who knows how to spin the media, not just one who’s tough in court. Better, get one of each. You want to sway public opinion. You want people to hear the story, all of it, and feel sympathy for you, disgust for Draco. Stop waiving your damn rights, and don’t talk to me again, or any other cop, without your attorney present.”
Amused, Areena lifted her eyebrows. “Do you save everyone, Lieutenant?”
“Shut up and listen. Go for diminished capacity and extreme emotional distress. Even with the premeditation, it’s not much of a stretch. You killed the man abusing your daughter, and a blackmailer. If it’s played that way, it’s going to generate a lot of media in your favor.” And she could tap Nadine to see that it swung that way. “The DA’s not going to want the mess of a long, public trial with mothers picketing outside the courthouse and city hall. And they will. He’ll offer you a deal. You may spend time in a cage, but if you’re lucky, you’ll get a hefty stretch of home incarceration with a bracelet, and another chunk of severe parole.”
“Why are you doing this for me?”
“Isn’t there some saying about looking gift horses in the mouth?”
“Yes. Very true.” Areena got to her feet. “I wish, well obviously, I wish we’d met under different circumstances.” She held out her hand. “Good-bye, Lieutenant.”
Eve clasped her hand, let the grip hold.
• • •
When she walked back into her office, Roarke was there. She picked up her jacket, her bag. “What do you say we get the hell out of here?”
“I like the idea.” But he caught her hand, ran his gaze over her face. “You look lighter, Lieutenant.”
“I am. Considerably.”
“And Areena?”
“She’s a hell of a woman. It’s weird.” As she puzzled it, she sat on the edge of the desk. “It’s the first time in eleven years on the job I’ve ever come across a killer I admire, and a victim I couldn’t…”
“Care about,” Roarke finished.
“I’m not supposed to care one way or the other. I’m just supposed to do the job.”
“But you do care, Lieutenant. Brutally, you care. And this time you ran up against someone you were obliged to stand for who deserved exactly what he got.”
“Murder’s never deserved,” she said, then made a small sound of impatience. “Hell with it. Justice was served in a courtroom. It might have been onstage, but it wasn’t make-believe. There was no pretense when Areena Mansfield picked up that knife and rammed it into the heart Richard Draco didn’t have. And when she took that step, that stand, justice was served.”
“She’ll have the jury eating out of her hand. Before it’s over, they’ll canonize her rather than convicting her. You know that.”
“Yeah. Hell, I’m counting on that. You know what I figured out, pal?”
“Tell me.”
“You can’t go back. Can’t fix what broke. But you can go forward. And every step matters. Every one makes a difference.” She pushed away from the desk, cupped his face in her hands. “From where I’m standing, you’re the best step I ever took.”
“Then let’s take the next, and go home.”
She walked out with him, and because it fit the mood, took his hand in hers. She would sleep that night. She would sleep clean.
Table of Contents
*** CHAPTER ONE ***
*** CHAPTER TWO ***
*** CHAPTER THREE ***
*** CHAPTER FOUR ***
*** CHAPTER FIVE ***
*** CHAPTER SIX ***
*** CHAPTER SEVEN ***
*** CHAPTER EIGHT ***
*** CHAPTER NINE ***
*** CHAPTER TEN ***
*** CHAPTER ELEVEN ***
*** CHAPTER TWELVE ***
*** CHAPTER THIRTEEN ***
*** CHAPTER FOURTEEN ***
*** CHAPTER FIFTEEN ***
*** CHAPTER SIXTEEN ***
*** CHAPTER SEVENTEEN ***
*** CHAPTER EIGHTEEN ***
*** CHAPTER NINETEEN ***
*** CHAPTER TWENTY ***
*** CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE ***
*** CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO ***
