The In Death Collection, Books 11-15

by J. D. Robb

  “Eve, you need your next dose.”

  “I do not.”

  “Tell me—look at me—tell me you don’t have a massive headache, in addition to body aches, and that your own sweet buns aren’t starting to drag. Lying to me,” he continued before she could speak, “is just going to piss me off enough so I gain twisted pleasure in forcing the meds on you. Which we both know from experience I can do.”

  She gauged the distance to the door. She’d never make it. “I don’t want the shot.”

  “Well, that’s a pity, as you’re getting it. Don’t put us through another round like this morning. Be a brave little soldier now, and roll up your sleeve.”

  “I hate you.”

  “Yes, I know. We’ve added a bit of flavoring to the liquid packet. Raspberry.”

  “Gee. My mouth’s just watering.”

  Chapter 20

  She was rolling up her other sleeve as she walked toward Interview Room A. Apparently, it wasn’t just her car that was having an electronic rebellion. Climate control was on the fritz in this section, and the air was hot, stuffy, and violently scented with bad coffee.

  Peabody was waiting outside the door, perspiring lightly in full uniform.

  “He whining for a lawyer yet?”

  “Not yet. Sticking to the mistaken identity story.”

  “Beautiful. He’s going to be an idiot.”

  “Sir, in my opinion, he thinks we’re the idiots.”

  “Better and better. Come on, let’s do this.”

  Eve pushed open the door. Kevin sat at the single table at one of the two chairs. He was sweating as well, and not so delicately. He looked over as Eve came in, and his lips trembled.

  “Thank God. I was afraid I’d just been left here and forgotten. There’s been some horrible mistake, ma’am. I was having a picnic with a woman I met online, a woman I knew only as Stefanie. Suddenly, she went crazy. She said she was the police, and then I was brought here.”

  He spread his hand, a gesture of reason and puzzlement. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

  “I’ll just bring you up to speed.” She drew out a chair, straddled it. “But calling me crazy isn’t going to endear you to me, Kevin.”

  He stared. “I’m sorry? I don’t even know you.”

  “Now, Kevin, what a thing to say after you gave me those pretty flowers and quoted poetry to me. Men, Peabody, what are you going to do?”

  “Can’t live with them, can’t beat them with a stick.”

  Kevin’s eyes darted from one face to the other. “You? It was you in the park? I don’t understand.”

  “I told you to remember my name. Engage recorder,” she said. “Interview with suspect Kevin Morano, regarding charges of murder in the first in the case of Bryna Bankhead, accessory to murder in the case of Grace Lutz, attempted murder in the cases of Moniqua Cline and Stefanie Finch. Additional charges of sexual assault, rape, illegals possession, administering illegals to persons without consent, also filed. Interview conducted by Dallas, Lieutenant Eve. Also present, Peabody, Officer Delia. Mr. Morano has been informed of his rights. Isn’t that so, Kevin?”

  “I don’t—”

  “Did you receive the Revised Miranda warning, Kevin?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Do you understand your rights and obligations as contained in that warning?”

  “Of course, but—”

  She made a mildly impatient sound, held up a finger. “Don’t be in such a hurry.” She stared at him, went silent. When he licked his lips, opened them, she wagged a finger at him again. And watched a single line of sweat drip down his temple. “Hot in here,” she said conversationally. “They’re working on the climate control. Must be pretty miserable under that wig and face putty. You want to ditch them?”

  “I don’t know what you—”

  She merely reached over, gave the wig a quick jerk, then tossed it to Peabody. “I bet that feels cooler.”

  “It’s not a crime to wear hair alternatives.” He raked unsteady fingers through his short-cropped hair.

  “You wore a different one the night you killed Bryna Bankhead. Another still the night you tried to kill Moniqua Cline.”

  He looked Eve dead in the eyes. “I don’t know those women.”

  “No, you didn’t know them. They were nothing to you. Just toys. Did it amuse you to seduce them with poetry and flowers, with candlelight and wine, Kevin? Did it make you feel sexy? Manly? Maybe you can’t get it up unless the woman’s drugged and helpless. You can’t get a boner unless it’s rape.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” A ripple of anger passed over his face. “Insulting.”

  “Well, pardon the hell out of me. But when a guy has to rape a woman to get off, it tells me he can’t do the job otherwise.”

  His chin lifted a fraction. “I have never raped a woman in my life.”

  “I bet you believe that. They wanted it, didn’t they? Once you slipped a little Whore into their wine, they were practically begging you for it. But you only did it to loosen them up.” Eve rose, walked around the table. “Just priming the pump. Guy like you doesn’t have to rape women. You’re young, handsome, rich, sophisticated. Educated.”

  She leaned over from behind him, put her mouth close to his ear. “But it’s boring, isn’t it? Guy’s entitled to a little extra zip. And women? Hell, they’re all whores under the skin. Like your mother, for instance.”

  He cringed away from her. “What are you talking about? My mother is a highly regarded and highly successful businesswoman.”

  “Who got knocked up in a lab. Did she even know your father, I wonder? Did it matter to her once she was revved to go? How much did they pay her to drop the suit and complete the pregnancy? She ever tell you?”

  “You have no right to speak to me this way.” His voice was thick with tears.

  “Were you looking for Mommy in those women, Kevin? Did you want to fuck her, punish her, or both?”

  “That’s disgusting.”

  “There, I knew we’d hit a point of agreement. In the end she sold herself, didn’t she? No difference, really, between her and those other women. And all you did was bring out their true natures. They were cruising for it on the web. Got what they asked for. And then some. Is that what you and Lucias figured?”

  He jerked, and his breath hitched. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not going to listen to any more of this. I want to see your superior.”

  “Whose idea was it to kill them? It was his, wasn’t it? You’re not a violent man, are you? Bryna, that was an accident, wasn’t it? Just bad luck. That might help you out some, Kevin. Might help you out a little with Bryna being accidental. But you’ll have to work with me on that.”

  “I told you. I don’t know any Bryna.”

  She whirled until her face was pushed into his. “Your pants are on fire, asshole. Look at me. We’ve got you cold. All the goodies in your little black bag, the illegal substance you slipped into the wine. We had you under surveillance, fully recorded from the time you stepped into the park. Heard you talking to your pal about the points you were going to rack up. And you’re real photogenic, Kevin. I bet the jury thinks so, too, when they see the disc of you slipping the illegal into the wine. I bet they’ll be so goddamn impressed they’ll give you, oh, I’d say three life sentences—no possibility of parole—on an off planet penal colony. A nice concrete cage to call your own.”

  She hammered it at him while he stared at her with horror creeping over his face. “Three squares a day. Oh not the squares you’re used to,” she added, fingering the material of his shirt. “But they’ll keep you alive. A long, long time. And you know what happens to rapists in prison? Especially pretty ones. They’ll all try you out, then they’ll fight over you and try you out some more. They’ll fuck you half to death, Kevin. And the more you beg them to stop, the more you plead, the harder they’ll ram into you.”

  She straightened, stared into the two-way glass, into the nightmar
e that lived in her own eyes. That crawled in her own belly.

  “If you’re lucky,” she said, “somebody named Big Willy will make you his bitch and keep the others off you. Feeling lucky, Kevin?”

  “This is harassment. This is intimidation.”

  “This is reality,” she snapped. “This is fate, this is destiny. This is your goddamn kismet, pal. You trolled for women in online chats. Poetry chats. That’s where you found Bryna Bankhead. You developed a relationship with her while using the name Dante. And working with your friend and fellow creep, Lucias Dunwood, you arranged to meet her.”

  She paused, let it sink in. “You sent her flowers, pink roses, at work. You spent some time watching her on her day off. You used a unit in the cyber-joint across the street. We got you nailed there. You know, we’ve got a whole frigging division of cyber-geeks on the payroll, Kev. I’ll tell you a little secret.”

  She eased in again, dropped her voice to a conspirator’s whisper. “You’re not as good as you think you are. Not there, not at the joint on Fifth either. You left prints.”

  She watched his lips tremble like a child about to cry. “Anyway,” she said, “back to Bryna Bankhead. You met her at the Rainbow Room. Coming back to you yet, Kevin? She was a pretty woman. You had drinks. Or you did, and she had Whore you mixed with her wine. When she was primed with it, you went back to her place. Gave her a little more, just in case.”

  She slapped her hands on the table, leaned in. “You turned on music, you lit the candles, you tossed fucking pink rose petals on the bed. And you raped her. To give it all a little more kick, you fed her some Wild Rabbit. Her system couldn’t take it, and she died. Died right there in the bed of roses. Scared you, didn’t it? Pissed you off. What the hell did she mean by dying and messing up your plans? You threw her off the terrace, threw her out on the street like she was garbage.”

  “No.”

  “Did you watch her fall, Kevin? I don’t think so. You were done with her. Had to cover your ass, didn’t you? Run home to Lucias and ask him what to do.”

  She straightened, turned away, strolled over and got herself a cup of water. “He runs you, doesn’t he? You haven’t got the spine to run yourself.”

  “No one runs me. Not Lucias, not you, not anyone. I’m a man. My own man.”

  “Then it was your idea.”

  “No, it was—I have nothing to say. I want my lawyer.”

  “Good.” She eased a hip down on the table. “I was hoping you’d say that because once you bring the lawyers in, I don’t have to work with you toward any sort of deal. I’ve got to tell you, Kevin, just the idea of making a deal with you was making me sick to my stomach. And I’ve got a really strong stomach, right, Peabody?”

  “Titanium steel, sir.”

  “Yep, that’s me.” Eve gave her stomach a little pat. “But you managed to churn it. Now I’m all steady again picturing you spending the rest of your pitiful life in a cage, without your pretty suits, all snuggled up with Big Willy.” She pushed off the table. “When I have Lucias sitting where you’re sitting now, I’ll get a little sick again, working with him. Because he’s going to go for a deal and roll right over on you. What are the current odds on that in the pool, Peabody?”

  “Three to five, on Dunwood, sir.”

  “I better place my bet. Let’s get you that lawyer, Kevin. Break in Interview, due to suspect’s request for representation.” She turned for the door.

  “Wait.”

  Her eyes, January ice, met Peabody’s. “Something on your mind, Kevin?”

  “I just wondered . . . strictly out of curiosity, what you mean by a deal.”

  “Sorry, I can’t get into that as you’ve called for your lawyer.”

  “The lawyer can wait.”

  Gotcha, Eve thought, and turned back. “Record on. Continuation of Interview, same subjects. Please repeat that, Kevin, for the record.”

  “The lawyer can wait. I’d like to know what you mean by a deal.”

  “I’m going to need a nausea pill.” She sighed, sat again. “Okay. You know what you’ve got to do, Kevin? You’ve got to come clean, tell me how it all happened. I need chapter and verse. And you’re going to have to show me some good faith and some sincere remorse. You pull that off, and I’ll go to bat for you. Recommend that you’re given better facilities, separated from the general population of butt-fuckers.”

  “I don’t understand? What sort of deal is that? You think I’m going to go to jail?”

  “Oh, Kevin, Kevin.” She sighed. “I know you’re going over. What happens to you after you’re there is up to you.”

  “I want immunity.”

  “And I want to sing show tunes on Broadway. Neither one of us have a chance in hell of realizing those precious dreams. We got your DNA, you stupid putz. You didn’t suit up for your parties. We got your juice, your prints. And you know that little sample they took from you at Booking? They’re running it right now. It’s going to match, Kevin, we both know it’s going to match what you left behind in Bryna and Moniqua. Once it does, once I have the DNA match in my hot little hand, play time’s over. I’ll put you down like a sick dog, and all the lawyers in all the land won’t be able to help you.”

  “You have to give me something. A plea bargain, a way out. I have money—”

  Her hand whipped out, snatched his shirtfront. “Was that a bribe, Kevin? Am I adding bribing a cop to your list of credits?”

  “No, no, I just . . . I need some help here.” He tried to calm himself, to sound reasonable, cooperative. “I can’t go to prison. I don’t belong in prison. It was just a game. A contest. It was all Lucias’s idea. It was an accident.”

  “A game, a contest, someone else’s idea, an accident.” She shook her head. “Is this multiple choice?”

  “We were bored, that’s all. We were bored and needed something to do! We were just having a little fun, a kind of re-enactment of his bastard grandfather’s great experiment. Then it went wrong. It was an accident. She wasn’t supposed to die.”

  “Who wasn’t supposed to die, Kevin?”

  “That first woman. Bryna. I didn’t kill her. It just happened.”

  She leaned back now. “Tell me how it happened, Kevin. Tell me how it just happened.”

  An hour later, Eve stepped out of Interview. “A miserable, pusboil on the ass of humanity.”

  “Yes, sir, he is. You wrapped him up tight,” Peabody added. “A platoon of lawyers won’t be able to poke so much as a pinhole in that confession. He’s gone.”

  “Yeah. The other boil won’t break so easy. Alert the team, Peabody. Same personnel as the park. I’m getting a warrant for Dunwood. They deserve to be in on act two.”

  “You got it. Dallas?”

  “What?”

  “Do you really want to sing show tunes on Broadway?”

  “Doesn’t everyone?” She pulled out her communicator, prepared to request her warrant. It beeped in her hand. “Dallas.”

  “My office,” Whitney ordered. “Now.”

  “Yes, sir. What is he, psychic? Round up the crew, Peabody. I want to move on Dunwood within the hour.”

  With the interview on her mind and the anticipation of getting her hands on Lucias hot in her blood, she walked into Whitney’s office. She’d been prepared to give him her report orally. Her plans changed when she saw Renfrew and another man in Whitney’s office.

  Face impassive, Whitney remained behind his desk. “Lieutenant, Captain Hayes. I believe you and Detective Renfrew have already met.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Detective Renfrew is here with his captain. He’s considering filing a formal complaint re your conduct in the Theodore McNamara investigation, of which he is primary of record. In hopes to avoid any such action, I’ve asked you to come here so that the matter can be discussed.”

  There was a dull roar inside her head, a low burn deep in her gut. “Let him file.”

  “Lieutenant, neither I nor this department have a desire to
wade through the mess of a complaint if it can be avoided.”

  “I don’t give a damn what you or the department wants.” Her tone bit and had something unidentifiable flashing in Whitney’s eyes. “You file your complaint, Renfrew. File it, and I’ll finish you.”

  “I told you how it was.” Renfrew bared his teeth. “Got no respect for the badge, no respect for fellow officers. She comes onto my crime scene throwing her weight around, pulling rank, undermining my investigation. Questioned my crime scene unit after I requested her to remove herself before she contaminated the scene. Goes behind my back to the ME getting data on a body that’s not hers.”

  Whitney held up a hand to halt Renfrew’s tirade. “Your response to this, Lieutenant?”

  “You want my response to this? I’ll give it to you.” Furious, she yanked a disc out of her pocket, slapped it onto the desk. “There’s my response to this. On record. You idiot,” she said to Renfrew. “I was going to let it slide. That was my mistake. Nobody should let cops like you slide. You think the badge is some sort of protection for you? Some sort of hammer you can toss around? It’s your fucking responsibility, your goddamn duty, not your cushion and not your weapon.”

  Hayes made a move to speak. Whitney silenced him by lifting a single finger.

  “Don’t you tell me about duty.” Renfrew braced his hands on his thighs, leaned his body forward. “Everybody knows you’re out for other cops, Dallas. You’re in IAB’s pocket. The rat squad’s poster girl.”

  “I don’t have to justify what I did about the One-two-eight to you. It seems you’ve forgotten cops were dying. Want their names, because I’ve got them in my head. I stood over them, Renfrew, you didn’t. You want a piece of me over that, you should’ve taken it outside the department, off a homicide investigation. You want a shot at me, you don’t take it over the dead we’re supposed to stand up for. I asked you to reach out, I asked you to share information vital to both our investigations so we could do the damn job.”

  “My robbery-homicide hasn’t been connected to your sex whacks. And you’ve got no business on my scene without authority. You’ve got no right recording on that scene, and anything in such a recording is bogus.”