Connections in Death (In Death #48)(99)

As more tears fell, Rochelle pressed a hand to her mouth. “He was helping the police? You?”

“Not me. When I can, I’ll arrange for you to speak with the detective he worked with. He didn’t tell you because he couldn’t tell you. He may have saved lives, he certainly passed on information that aided in arrests, in taking criminals off the street. He didn’t just beat the odds, he smashed them to dust. You’re right to be proud of him.”

“I am. I am. Is this why . . . Was he killed because they found out?”

“I don’t know that yet. You need to give us time, and you need to keep what I’ve told you at this table until I can clear it.”

“I will. I swear to you.” With one hand still in Crack’s, Rochelle pressed the other to her heart. “He was making amends, making amends to people he hurt before by helping the police. If you could tell the officer he worked with I’m grateful. I’m grateful he was given the opportunity.”

“I will. I need to get back.”

“Can we sit here for a couple minutes? I just need to sit for a minute.”

“As long as you need,” Eve said as she rose.

She strode back toward Homicide, paused when she heard Crack call her name.

“I’m not going to keep you, but I got one question.”

“I went as far as I could already.”

“No, this is personal for me. I want to know if you took down the motherfucker who did that to your face.”

She had to smile a little, and more than a little fiercely. “Yeah, I took her down. And she doesn’t look so pretty, either.”

“Good enough.” He stepped back, and as she walked away, called out. “I know some skinny white girls, but don’t know any prettier than you.”

She headed to her office, for coffee before she pulled in updates on the other arrests. Reo already had coffee, and Eve’s desk chair.

“Sorry, I needed a quiet space for a couple minutes.”

Eve waved her back down. “I’m just here for coffee.”

“Well, while you’re getting it, you might like to know that Donita Haver or Tank as she prefers—and since you’re you, you know that’s the woman who tried to beat you with a bat—has confessed to the attempted murder of a police officer.”

“What? Wait. She confessed not to assault with a deadly but to attempted murder?”

“Bragged about it, hopes to get another chance. She was actually smart enough, as a surprising number of them aren’t, to demand legal rep. Then she coldcocked her public defender with an elbow when he was rattling off how she wasn’t aware you were the police and tried to advise her to claim diminished capacity.”

Reo held up a finger, as she scrolled through her notes. “I quote: ‘Knew that cunt was a cop. I’d’ve cracked her fucking head open and had a good taste of her brains if she hadn’t had the fucking helmet. Next time I will.’”

Considering, Eve drank some coffee. “Does she know in New York, that’s forty to life?”

“She doesn’t seem to care. Claims no cage can hold her, and she’ll bust out, hunt you down, and eat your brains. However, during the interview—post-PD as he required medical attention and she said fuck the lawyers—Baxter and Trueheart managed to get her to confess to a couple of other assaults, the beating death—proudly with her bare fists—of an illegals dealer, and an assortment of others. We’re going to put her in an off-planet cage for the rest of her life—she’s twenty-four, by the way.”

“The rest of her life works for me.”

“Remember that because we’ve made a few deals along the way, lower levels.”

“They do short time, they’ll end up back in. It’s how it is.” Eve thought of Lyle Pickering. “With rare and goddamn shining exceptions.”

“We’ve also bagged a number for outstanding warrants. Jenkinson and Reineke pulled the location of a flop used to house more sex workers. You were in interview, but Whitney sent a team out to scoop them up. Strong’s working Ho now. She started with a couple of his underlings, worked up a nice file. A few deals made.”

“Will they help her put him away?”

“I believe they will. He’s lawyered—not a PD, but we’re going to get him. Jorgenson has a PD, one who came to me proposing a deal.” Reo examined her fingernails. “I scoffed and chortled.”

“‘Scoffed and chortled.’”

“It goes like this.”

Reo made a somehow ladylike snorting sound, then a low-throated, nicely evil laugh.

“Excellent.”

“I practice. From what you got from Washington, there won’t be a deal on this one.”

“We just finished getting corroboration from Chesterfield, and a few more details.” She checked her wrist unit. “I’m going to have Jorgenson brought up.”

“I’ll notify his attorney of record.”

“Keep the desk. I still need to—”

Eve broke off as she heard footsteps—a smooth, steady stride. It didn’t surprise her to see Kyung step into her doorway.

He was a tall, slick-looking black man, and as media liaison, not an asshole.

“Lieutenant, APA Reo, I’m sorry to interrupt.”