Abandoned in Death (In Death, #54)(105)

Mary Kate gave a watery laugh. “I think I’ll stick with marketing.”

“I may have follow-up questions tomorrow, but you should go home, get some rest. I can arrange for transportation.”

“We have cars.” Ms. Covino rubbed her daughter’s shoulders. “We’ll all go to the house tonight, everyone. You, too, Cleo. We’ll have a lot of wine.”

“We’ll talk soon, Mary Kate.”

She nodded at Mira. “Yes, thank you. And thank you,” she said to Louise.

“Glad to help. Use the medication I gave you and change the bandages in the morning. The piercings will close, but if you have any issues, contact me or your family doctor.”

“I will.” Rising, she reached out, took both of Eve’s hands. “Don’t let the little boy fool you. He’s as vicious as the man.”

“I know. I’d tell you to take care of yourself, but you’ve already proven you know how.”

When they’d all filed out, Eve sat. “Louise, is she as stable physically as she looks?”

“She needs about twelve hours’ natural and deep sleep, probably another few good meals—and the wine won’t hurt. If she’s vigilant about the medication and bandage changes, she shouldn’t have any scarring, or very minimal.”

“She’ll be vigilant. Dr. Mira?”

“Strong-willed. She’ll have some bad moments—but the support of family, of friends will help. And she’s very open to counseling.”

“Will she handle giving testimony in court if this goes to court?”

“I have no doubts there. Strong-willed,” Mira repeated.

“Good. Louise, I’m cutting you loose.”

“Happy to be cut loose.”

“Charles is probably in my office, waiting for you.”

“I’ll find him. Let’s all take a page from the Covinos and have a lot of wine sometime soon.”

When Louise left, Eve got up, uncloaked the board.

“You’ve had a very long day,” Mira pointed out.

“I think I can finish it by finishing him. Not by punching him several times the way Ms. Covino might like, but in the box, within the law. I can get to him. Both sides of him. I could use your help.”

“You have it. What do you have in mind?”

“Let me get Peabody in here, and we’ll talk it through.”





22





After she had Dawber brought up, Eve let him cook in the box for about forty minutes, while she conferenced with Mira and Peabody, and Reo by remote.

She put her heel down hard on the possibility of a deal, and got no substantial argument from the APA. They had a witness in Covino with a strong handle on details, and an entire mountain range of evidence.

The sticking point was, and would be, if Dawber proved mentally capable of understanding his crimes, and could be held responsible for them.

With what continued to come in from the search of his house, the updates on his electronics from EDD, Eve pushed hard on the: Hell yes.

In her office, Eve put together a few fat files to take into Interview. Peabody would take in the box of carefully selected evidence removed from his residence. And Mira would serve as the expert shrink, evaluating Dawber’s mental status.

Mira wouldn’t be the last of those, Eve knew. If and when Dawber said lawyer, any capable defense attorney would arrange for an outside psychiatric eval.

Even if he didn’t, there would be other evaluations. So they had to nail it, and nail him.

Ready, she turned toward the door just as Roarke stepped in.

“I hear everybody else, and nine times out of ten I know who’s coming by the sound of their walk. But you slide around like your feet don’t touch the ground.”

“Darling, I walk on air when I’m near you.”

When she snorted, he stepped to her, cupped her chin in his hand, skimmed a thumb over the dent in it. “You should be exhausted, but you’re not.”

“No, not tired. Revved. Murder cops don’t often get to watch a live one—a tough, smart live one like Mary Kate Covino—walk away with her family to go drink a bunch of wine. He took two, and we’re going to make him pay. But she walked away.”

“I’ve more here that may help with the payment portion.” He handed her a file and a disc. “Knowing you prefer paper copies, we generated those. You have the disc if you want to put it on the screen in the box.”

She set down the files she carried to open the new one.

“Jesus, he journaled every target, by name. This is gold. Detailed notes on his hunting and stalking phases, dates, times, his conclusions, going back to last October.”

“You’ll see he had two other potentials he dropped during his research. One he learned had a black belt in karate, the other he learned had a cop for a father.”

“Shit, this is Redman from Special Victims. I know him a little.”

“His daughter, age twenty-four, is a grad student at NYU and lives in Dawber’s hunting grounds, where she also works nights tending bar.”

“Crossed them off the list. The first, he had to calculate her reaction time, her fighting instincts and skills—not worth the risks. The second, snatch the kid of a cop? Too much risk there, too. And this is gold because it shows calculation. And back to all that careful planning with these log entries.”