Echoes in Death (In Death #44)(113)

“Get out of my face, you stupid cunt, or I’ll make you sorry.”

“Try.”

Eve rose, nudged Peabody back, put herself in Kyle’s face. “In case my partner hasn’t explained it clearly enough, you’re now further charged with attempting to bribe police officers. It’s just a nice little cherry on top. No deals, you son of a bitch. Peabody, arrange for this revolting piece of garbage to be taken back to his cell.”

“I’m not going into a cell. I want to talk to your superior, right now!”

“That’s not included in your rights.” Eve gathered her files. “Got you cold, Kyle. My only regret? As bad as Omega is, we don’t have worse. You deserve worse.”

“I’ll be out on bail in an hour!” he shouted.

Knowing it ranked as the biggest insult, Eve just laughed as she all but shoved Peabody out of the room.

“I want to punch something.”

Eve eyed her. “If you punch me, I’ll punch you back, which would be a shame as I’ve never wanted you more than at this moment.”

Peabody choked out a laugh, scrubbed her face.

“‘Dicks the size of jumbo kielbasas’?”

“I couldn’t think of a better metaphor in the heat of the moment.”

“Gave me an image. Shake it off. Go hit the gym later if you need to, take it out on a sparring droid, but shake it off, get a couple of big, sweaty uniforms—no measurement on dick size—to haul that miserable bastard back to a cell.”

“You were good cop.” Peabody took a breath, then another. “You reeled him in acting interested, even fascinated. It worked. I got to be pissed-off cop. Sort of bad cop.”

“You were badass cop. Badass cop,” Eve said more sharply as Peabody’s eyes filled. “Don’t fuck it up now.”

“It made me sick. You’d think after all this time, seeing what we see, dealing with the excuses for humans we deal with, it wouldn’t. But he made me sick.”

“We got him, Peabody. We did the job, did it right, and we got him. See that he’s put back in a cage. Then write it up, okay? Write it up, and go home. Beat up a droid, bang McNab, make some soup, whatever it takes to shake it off.”

“You said ‘bang McNab.’”

“Don’t make me regret it.”

She walked toward Observation as Reo came out.

“You make my job easy.”

Eve glanced back toward the Interview room. “I figure it’ll take a full year on Omega before he starts to actually consider he may be fucked.”

“I really hope to make him realize that sooner, but I’d take it. Do you want me to contact the victims, tell them we have him?”

“Anyone we spoke to on the potential target list. That would help. Olsen and Tredway should tell the Patricks in person, and the Brinkmans. I’ll take Daphne Strazza.”

“I’ll take care of it.” Reo squeezed Eve’s arm, then walked away to do her part of the job.

Eve waited while Mira came out with Roarke, held up a finger and moved to speak to Olsen and Tredway.

“Fried him up like a kielbasa,” Tredway said.

“I’m never going to be able to eat one of those again, but, yeah, he’s fried. His ego and entitlement made it pretty damn easy. It’s not going to be easy on the Patricks.”

“No.” Olsen shook her head. “It’s going to gut them.”

“It should come from you. They have a closer connection with you. The Brinkmans, too.”

“We’ll take them,” Tredway agreed. “We’ll handle it. Damn good working with you again, Dallas. Feeney’s got a hell of an eye.”

“Let’s get this done before it leaks. Then you and me, partner?” Olsen tapped a fist to Tredway’s arm. “We’re going for a couple of brews.”

“I hear you.”

Eve stepped away, up to Mira and Roarke.

“I guess you caught some of the interview,” she said to Roarke.

“Most, I think. You played him perfectly.”

“He wanted validation, wanted his dick stroked—so to speak. It was easy to see that, and to give it to him. We had him without it, but it’s tied in a bow. He’s not insane,” she added, turning to Mira.

“Sick, delusional, sociopathic, psychopathic, but no, he’s legally sane. It wasn’t easy to give it to him, but by doing so, you tied that bow.”

“That part’s done. I could use you—or Daphne could use you. I need to tell her face-to-face.”

“I cleared time. When can you leave?” Mira asked.

“Pretty much now if that works. We found her,” she said to Roarke. “I think—unless Mira says otherwise—it would be good for you to be there, too.”

“I’ll take you both.”

“I’m going to let her know we’re coming. She might want her family there. The Patricks and Brinkmans have each other. Give me five minutes. I’ll meet you in the garage.”

When Eve strode away, Mira laid a hand on Roarke’s arm. “She has you. This has been brutally hard for her in many ways, but she has you.”

“And you.”

“Yes. And the next victim.”

*