Desperation in Death (In Death #55)(109)

When Beaty filed out with the next group, Dorian let out a gasp.

“Number four, four, four. Number four. That’s Auntie. That’s her. I swear to God that’s her.”

“Okay. Take a breath. Take a few of them.”

“She has to pay.”

“She will. Look at her. She already is.”

“It’s not enough.”

“It will be. You’ve given me everything I need to make it be enough. Now you have to leave it to me. You’re going to go back to the school now, and you’re going to live your life. You’re going to make something of it because that makes her pay, too. Every smart thing you do, from this moment on, makes her pay.”

“How?”

“Because she wanted to take it all from you, and instead you’re taking it all back. She tried to make you nothing, and you’ll make yourself something.”

Tears gleamed and burned. “Mina’s still dead.”

“I can’t change that. But everything you do now gives Mina’s bravery meaning. Don’t forget that. Go on out. Rochelle’s waiting for you.”

Dorian took one last look at Beaty. “Rot in hell,” she said before she walked out.

“Well done, Eve.”

Eve shook her head at Mira. “It’s not over yet.”

“No, but that young, damaged girl is already healing, and you’re a part of why.”

“I didn’t have half her guts at that age.”

“I completely disagree.”

Eve just took a few of those breaths herself and called in the next witness.

With Iris Beaty, she got a solid six out of six.

“We’re going to wrap her up and wrap her tight,” Reo stated. “No deals,” she added before Eve could speak. “I’m going to love having a chair at the table at her trial, and I’d bank on us against Merit on this one, all the way.”

“I’m taking her in the box, and don’t bet against me breaking her.”

“I never do.”

“I’d hoped to shake things up with the lawyer, but—” Eve broke off when Callendar ran in. “But hell, what have you got?”

“It took a frigging backhoe, and—okay—with everybody tied up in the auction deal and the dead guy’s e’s, I gave Roarke a tag for a quick remote assist.”

“Results. We can talk method later.”

“Sampson Merit goes by deepdaddy online—at least as his underground handle for trolling kiddie porn sites, and for registering for the aforesaid auction. He’s participated in same—using different handles—for ten years we found so far. And—got more—he has a private residence on Long Island, not far from Devereaux’s, titled under another name, under a shell, under more bullshit. This is not one of the residences he shares with his wife of twenty-several years.”

“Deepdaddy?” Eve repeated.

Callendar bared her teeth. “Yeah, and sure, ick, but he’s in this. I tagged Feeney on the way down to you, and he’s looking to see if Merit helped him set up the not-so-legal stuff for the Academy, the auction.”

“Enough to arrest?” Eve asked Reo.

“Let me take a look at it, huddle with the boss. Give me twenty. Maybe thirty.”

“I’m putting them in the box.” And going to consult with Teasdale, she decided. “That’ll get you twenty, maybe thirty.”

“Send me everything, Callendar,” Reo said, on the move.

“Same goes. And good work, Detective.”

“Feels good. Feels like a damn good day.”

“Let’s keep that going.” Eve yanked out her comm. “Peabody, get Beaty and her lawyer in a box, meet me in my office, and move it.”

She got Reo her twenty, worked out strategy, then stepped into the box where Beaty, not looking her best in the orange jumpsuit, sat with her distinguished attorney.

“Record on. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, and Peabody, Detective Delia, entering Interview with Beaty, Iris, aka Swan, Iris, and her attorney of record, Merit, Sampson, on the matters of—” She blew out a breath, then read off the multiple case files.

“You’ve procrastinated on this matter for long enough,” Merit began. “I’ve already filed motions to—”

“I don’t much give a crap about your motions. Your client was arrested on-site where a hundred and thirty-six minors were held against their will, where evidence of physical, mental, and emotional abuse is mountainous, and where evidence of child trafficking, abductions, and murder are clear and present. You’re well aware of all this, Counselor.”

“My client categorically rejects these accusations, and has claimed her right to remain silent.”

“Your client has been positively identified in lineup by six witnesses as the woman known as Auntie, who ran the organization responsible for these abductions, forced imprisonment, torture, sexual abuse, and trafficking.”

He smiled thinly. “Witnesses, one presumes, who are minors, and who—by your account—have suffered emotional abuse. I doubt, very much, their coached testimony will hold up in court.”

Eve drew out a sketch. “You know who described you for the police artist? Dorian Gregg. She just keeps besting you, Iris.”