by J. D. Robb
She stepped in. “Record on,” she said briskly, barely glancing at the big, bulky man huddled at the table. She read off the salients—pointing a finger at him to shut him up.
Wide face, she noted, short, bristly hair. Fear in his eyes.
She sat. “Officer Rouche, welcome to Earth.” And smiled. “You have the right to remain silent,” she began, keeping her eyes hard on his until she’d completed the recitation. “Do you understand your rights and obligations in this matter?”
“Yeah, I understand. I don’t understand why the hell I need rights and obligations. I don’t understand why the hell I got dragged off my job and down here like some criminal.”
Eve leaned forward. “Oh yes, you do. And when you go back up, it won’t be to the job. It’ll be to a cage. Maybe real close to your good pal, Max Ricker.”
“You gotta be crazy. I want a—”
“Say lawyer and we’re done.” She pointed her index finger at him, cocked her thumb. “I don’t give you a shot, just wrap you up and dust off my hands while you’re charged, tried, and convicted of conspiracy to murder a police officer.”
“Con—” He literally choked while his face went raw-beet red. “I never—what the hell? I never killed anybody.”
“Hence the word ‘conspiracy.’ You don’t have to do the kill to go down just as hard, just as long. That’s life, Rouche. But, hey, not so bad since you already live on Omega. I mean, it’s not like you were planning to retire and relocate to, say, the south of France.”
She grinned when he lost every ounce of angry color.
“Here you go, Rouche.” Callendar moved to him, offered a cup of water. “You really look like you need this. Jeez, cop murder. You’re so burnt. I mean, wow. And putting a former guard in up there, with the major badasses he used to dick around? Ouch. Majorly sucks to be you.”
“Your pal Zeban’s in another room just like this right now,” Eve added. “And he’s going to roll over so fast he’ll look like a circus dog. I get a knock on that door before you do your trick of the day, and I don’t need you.”
Callendar let out a whistle. “Boy howdy, I’d jump, roll, and stand up and beg.”
“I don’t know what she’s talking about.” He spoke directly to Callendar now as little beads of sweat formed on his upper lip. “Hand to God, I never killed anybody. I don’t know anything about killing a cop. Why would I do that?”
“I hear you.” Callendar gave his arm a sympathetic pat. “But—and I’m sort of sorry to say it, under the circumstances—you were chummy with Max Ricker. I found the data myself. Feel kinda responsible for what’s going down now. But, you know, I just did my job. The doctored logs, the toss-away ’link in your quarters. The text message. Plus . . . oh south of France!” Callendar looked at Eve as if she’d just understood. “The transmissions with the ex-wife!”
“Which puts her ass in the same sling. She’s being picked up right now, and that’s conspiracy to murder on her, in addition to the tax fraud, money laundering, bribery, and the host of others.”
“Luanne didn’t have anything to do with it. She just did like I said. What the hell is this?”
“Max Ricker ordered the assassination of a police officer, one Detective Amaryllis Coltraine, through the ’link you provided him. You took payment from him. Multiple payments, which we’ve now documented. You arranged for the visitor’s log to be altered, and for the transmissions sent and received by Ricker to be eliminated from record. You handed him the fucking weapon that took Coltraine’s life.
“Look at me, at me!” she snapped when he turned desperately to Callendar. “I knew Coltraine. Believe me when I tell you I have a personal stake in this, that I won’t give a goddamn if you and your greedy ex spend the rest of your useless lives in a cage. In fact, I’ll have a small celebration over that fact daily. Do you believe me?”
“Yes.”
Callendar made sure her gulp was audible. “Wow. Me, too.”
“Here’s the deal. Onetime offer, and I hope you’re too stupid to take it. The conspiracy charges will be dropped on you, and on your wife, if you confess to the charges of bribery and collusion, to altering records. You’ll do ten to fifteen, on-planet, provided you cooperate and tell us everything you know regarding Ricker’s communications.”
“Ten to fifteen on-planet’s cake compared to life without parole on Omega.” Callendar gave Rouche another little pat on the arm. “If I were you, I’d sing like a bird on a spring morning. What do you think?”
Rouche wiped his sweaty lip with the back of his hand. He cleared his throat. And he sang.
When it was done, Callendar stood outside interview with Eve. “That rocked. Seriously. He just popped open and poured it out like . . . something that pops and has stuff in it. I’m really tired.”
“Go home, get some sleep. You did solid work here.”
“I am so all over that. Hey, Peabody. I helped Dallas cook the turkey. See ya.”
“She looks beat, so did Sisto. But we cooked our own turkey.”
“We’ll compare notes.” She nodded to Reo as Reo came out of observation. “Walk and talk. We need . . . Morris.”
“He’s an idiot. A greedy idiot. And that greed and stupidity helped kill her.”
“I know ten to fifteen may not seem like enough, it may not seem like—”
“No.” He interrupted, shook his head. “It’s enough. For him.”
“You can go with Reo. The two of you and Mira can watch the next phase. We’ve got a room set up for you.” She pulled out her communicator when it signaled, noted it was Baxter. “You go on ahead. We’re nearly ready to start.”
She waited until Morris was out of hearing before she answered. “Tell me.”
“A whole shitload of cash money, credit cards and IDs in fake names, more passcodes, which I’m reading as bank accounts. Unregistered ’link and PPC, not yet activated. And the money shot, Dallas: Coltraine’s ring.”
“Bag it, log it, bring it. You earned your doughnuts today, Baxter.”
“Fry her ass, Dallas.”
“You can depend on it.”
She clicked off Baxter to tag Feeney. “Did she bite?”
“Not a nibble on the ’links.”
“How about her unit?”
“Through the passcode and fail-safe—she has some skills, but I’ve got more. I’m just starting on the data.”
“Plan B, then. Roarke?”
“Ask him yourself. Hey, hotshot, your wife wants you.”
Eve winced at “your wife,” then shrugged it off as Roarke came on. “Hello, darling.”
“Don’t do that. I’m clocking time. Did you hook it up?”
“Ready when you are. And let me just say this is a brilliant idea on so many levels. I’m pleased to have a hand in it.”
“Thought you would be. I’ll beep you twice when I’m ready.”
“I like ‘darling,’ ” Peabody commented. “It’s old-fashioned and romantic. Especially with the accent.”
“Peabody.”
“Just thinking out loud. So can we fry her now?”
“Right now.”
When she reached the conference room, she stopped to give the uniforms new orders. “She won’t get past me, but on the off chance she does, take her down.”
She walked into the conference room. Grady sat at the conference table, drinking coffee, studying the screen. Looking, Eve thought, very pleased with herself.
“I was just about to hunt for you. I think I might have something.”
“Funny, I have something, too. You helped me get to it.”
“Yeah?” Genuine pleasure lit Cleo’s face. “Can I be there when you arrest the fucker?”
“Front and center. Do you think it comes down in the blood?” Eve asked conversationally. “You know, bad blood begets bad blood? I think that’s a cop-out myself. You’re in the job long enough, you see it’s not that simple. You see people who come from shit and crawl out of it to make a decent life. Oth
ers who come from decent and crawl into the shit. Because they like it. Then again, Ricker’s blood’s partially foul.”
“Alex Ricker doesn’t have his father’s brains. He’s just been coattailing. No offense, but somebody was going to nail him sooner or later.”
“Maybe. His problem was getting stuck on the woman. Not enough to make him change his ways, but enough to mess him up. Guy’s got a soft streak in there, sentimental, I guess. Men.” She shook her head. “They think they’re stronger, tougher than women. We know better. The coldest killers I’ve known have been female.
“But back to blood. I’m curious. Were you a cold, murderous bitch before you knew you had Ricker’s blood, or did you turn into one after? Don’t answer yet,” Eve continued as Grady rose slowly. “Let’s deal with the formalities. Cleo Grady, you’re under arrest for the murder of Amaryllis Coltraine, the murder of Rod Sandy. Other charges include—”
Even as Cleo reached for her weapon, Eve reached for hers. They drew together.
“I’d love to do it,” Eve said. “I’d feel joy in my heart watching you drop. But maybe you’ll drop me. Maybe. Then my partner, who’s got her weapon at your back will drop you. You’re not walking out of this room, Grady. Lower your weapon, or you’ll get a taste of what you gave Coltraine.”
“Mine’s on full. You go down, you won’t get up.”
“Maybe. My partner’s still going to drop you. Put down your weapon.”
“The fuck I will. You move away from—”
Eve fired. Her weapon was on its lowest setting and did no more than jolt Cleo, sent her stumbling back as her own weapon clattered to the floor. “That felt good. Small of me, but damn, that felt good. Got her weapon secured, Peabody?”
“Yes, sir, I do. And it felt good over here, too.”
“Hands behind your back, Cleo.” Eve secured her own weapon, took out her restraints. “Oh, and please make a try for the door,” she invited, “so I have an excuse to kick your ass.”
“Easy to say when you and your partner have weapons on me.”
“Yeah, it is.” Eve grinned. “Want me to say it again?”
“You can’t make this stick. None of it’s going to stick.”
“Bet?” She shoved Cleo into the chair, looped the restraints through the back rungs and chained her to it as she completed the Revised Miranda.
No blood on my hands, Eve thought. “I guess Mira was right,” she muttered, then shook her head at Peabody’s questioning look. “Nothing. I know you’re Max Ricker’s daughter,” she said to Cleo. “I know you recruited Rod Sandy to pass data re Alex Ricker to Max Ricker. I know you’ve been in communication with your father since his incarceration on Omega, and that you communicated with him the night of Coltraine’s murder.”
“You can get me a slap on the wrist for that, you can cost me my job. But you can’t pin murder on me.”
“Oh, I will. You went looking for him, didn’t you? Went looking for Daddy.”
“What if I did? No crime.”
“Hoping for his love and affection. Maybe a puppy. Pathetic.”
Insult had Cleo yanking against the restraints. “I know about you, how you were raised by the State. You don’t even know where you came from. That’s pathetic.”
“I know where I landed.” Eve brought a chair around, straddled it. “Max Ricker sent you to college, paid your freight.”
“So what? No crime.”
“But it wasn’t free. No free lunch from Max. Not for anyone. But then, it had to be a pleasure for you to find a way to stick it to your brother.”
“Half.”
“The half that got all the attention, all the bennies all those years. The son. Men are so freaking high on having sons.”
“Depends on the son.”
“Rod Sandy was easy to mold. He was so jealous of Alex. You just had to plant the seeds, show him the opportunity and the rewards.”
“Can’t prove it because, oh yeah, that’s right. He’s dead.”
“Got your stiletto, Cleo.”
“I’m a collector. I’m licensed.” She yawned deliberately. “I’d lawyer but this is too entertaining.”
“We’ve accessed your bank box. We have Coltraine’s ring. That was stupid. A cop taking a trophy that can tie her to a murder.”
Cleo merely jerked a shoulder and looked bored. “She lent it to me, a couple of days before she died. I put it in there out of respect.”
“Yeah, that’ll fly. You think it’ll fly, Peabody?”
“Not even in a world where pink fairies sing and dance.” Shaking her head, Peabody boosted up to sit on the conference table. “I bet Max told her to get rid of it, along with everything else. But it’s a really pretty ring.” She smiled at Cleo. “I guess you just wanted it.”
“She lent it to me. You can’t prove otherwise.”
“You think Max is going to fix all this for you?” Eve allowed a quick chuckle to rise through the question. “That he has the power, the means, the connections to fix this? Maybe he does. But he’d have to care. He doesn’t.”
Cleo pulled against the restraints again, and in her eyes Eve recognized the desire for blood. “You don’t know shit.”
“I know he used you. You used each other to get what you wanted. To hurt Alex. And if Coltraine had to die to really screw with him, she meant nothing. Means to an end. How many other times have you killed for him?”
“You tell me. You’ve got circumstantial, you’ve got speculation. Bitch, you’ve got nothing.”
“I’ve got plenty.” Eve rose. “He loves nothing, Cleo, puts nothing over himself. You were interesting, and useful to him for a time. But your value to him just bottomed out. He’ll cut you out like a tumor.”
“You’ve got nothing,” Cleo said between her teeth. “You know nothing.”
“Okay. Why not get it right from the source.” She signaled Roarke. “You can watch on-screen, Cleo. I’ll say hi to your father for you.”
It was strange to be in the conference room, to know she remained there, yet see her image form on the wall screen. To know she remained in place, and to look around and see the cold concrete cage. To see the man on the thin, narrow cot inside the unadorned gray box.
He hadn’t weathered prison well, she noted. His hair was going, his body had begun to sag, his skin to sallow. But his eyes, she thought, they were as vital and vicious as ever.
“Hello, Max.”
He sat up slowly. She saw the tremors—shock, excitement, fear? She couldn’t be sure. “Lieutenant Dallas.” His teeth showed in a ferocious smile as he sprang.
He passed through the holographic image, and scraped his hands on the wall when he threw them up to stop his forward motion.
“Yeah, nice to see you again, too. Why don’t you sit down? We’ll chat.”
He came back, stood so their faces nearly touched. Though she knew better, she almost felt his breath on her skin. “I’m under no obligation to speak to you. Your holo-presence is interfering with my rights.”
“I think you’re going to want to talk to me. Regarding rights, let’s refresh your Miranda.” Once she had, she smiled. “Gotcha again, Max. Conspiracy to murder a police officer. We know you ordered the hit on Coltraine. We’ve got a lock on it. Chapter and verse. I wanted to be the one to tell you about it, to let you know, personally, you’ll be charged and convicted, and given another life sentence.”
He did sit, laid his hands on his knees. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But if I did, do you think it matters to me? Bitch is dead, isn’t she?”
“We got Rouche, so he won’t be at your beck. Added to it, now that the warden’s aware of your activities, you’ll be cut off. No more chatting with friends and family on-planet, Max.”
His face tightened. “There’s always someone willing to deal. Always someone. One day, they’ll add another life sentence on for your murder. I’m giving that a lot of thought. A great deal of thought.”
“Sandy won’t be able to
help you with that. He’s dead.”
She watched anger ripple over his face before it went tight and cold. “A pity. But there’s always another Sandy.”
“Your son’s on to you. Lost your whipping boy there, Max.”
“My son’s useless. Couldn’t even keep the woman in line, could he? Had a cop in his bed but wouldn’t put her in his pocket.” A smile, thin and sly, slid onto his lips. “He was happy to help kill when I suggested it, when I arranged it.”
“Please. Alex is nothing but a disappointment to you because he wouldn’t do things just your way. He didn’t kill Coltraine. I’ve got your girl, Max.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He turned away now, shifting his body like a sulking child. “I’ve had enough of you.”
“Cleo’s in custody. Two murder counts. She didn’t check in with you before she killed Sandy. Bad girl. She screwed it up, Max, and now you have to pay. It’s her fault this didn’t work out for you.”
All sympathy and reason, she leaned back against the wall when he shifted toward her again. “You really batted zero in the progeny department. But maybe, seeing as you’re already completely fucked, you want to help her out. Take the full rap, give her something for her defense. You forced her, you blackmailed her, you brainwashed her, threatened her. You might be able to convince me to go for a lesser charge. Hell, she’s a cop. I’ll deal. I could maybe get her twenty instead of life. She’s your blood, after all.”
“She’s nothing. Never was, never will be. Less than nothing. Cleo’s gotten all she’ll get from me, and that’s more than she deserved. Coltraine’s on her. I’m an old man, in prison,” he added with a sneer. “I have no control over what some bitch does on-planet. You won’t prove otherwise.”
“The bitch is your daughter, Max.”
“She’s nothing, and she’ll get nothing from me. She hated Alex—hated him because he was my son, my heir. Obviously she killed the cop whore to get back at him, and that’s nothing to me.”
“A minute ago you tried to tell me Alex did the murder.”
“Alex doesn’t have the balls. At least Cleo knows how to go after what she wants, whatever it takes. But she doesn’t have Alex’s brains. Between them, they barely make up one useful person.”
