Leverage in Death: An Eve Dallas Novel (In Death #47)(14)

Nothing, Eve thought, was fail-safe.

She filled Peabody in as they went up to ICU to try another check on Karson.

“December again.”

“December eighteen—just after Kelly had her wallet and ’link lifted. We’ll want that incident report.”

“I’ll get both. The best I can get—until I get more—is negotiations between Quantum and Econo started wrapping up the end of November, or close enough they had the deal pretty much nailed down. Rogan’s domestic has her wallet and ’link lifted in December, and now one of Rogan’s team gets her comp and e’s taken in December. Coincidences are bollocks, right?”

“As rain,” Eve agreed. “Though I don’t know what the hell makes rain so right. It’s going to be about the deal, not the people. Blow up the deal—and follow the money. Who benefits, who loses, that’s the first line.”

They stepped into the ICU lobby. The guard dog nurse at the desk shot them a hard and suspicious look. A scattering of people sat in chairs. All looked weary. One had the shine of burn gel down his left cheek, a walking cast on his right ankle, and his right arm in a sling.

Eve walked to the guard dog, palmed her badge. “What’s Willimina Karson’s condition?”

“I’m going to verify that ID.”

“Go ahead.”

The nurse scanned it. Her stony expression clicked down to stern. “I had some media types try to get past me before. Ms. Karson’s critical. If you want more, if you want specifics, you’ll have to speak to her doctor, and you’ll have to wait. It’s been a hell of a morning.”

“All around. I’d appreciate being informed about any change in her status.”

“I’ll note it down.”

“How many up here from this morning’s incident?”

“Two now, including Ms. Karson. There were three, but she didn’t make it.”

Twelve dead, Eve thought, turning her attention back to the man with the sling and cast.

Middle sixties, she thought, with a lean, distinguished look despite the sweatpants and the I F059 NEW YORK sweatshirt. Both of which looked fresh off the rack and incongruous with the black dress shoes.

“Let’s check him out,” she said to Peabody.

She crossed to him, showed her badge. “Do you have someone in ICU?”

He eyed her carefully, though the left eye was shot with blood. “I do. I’m legal counsel for EconoLift and Willimina Karson’s adviser.”

“You were in the meeting. I’m primary on the investigation. My partner, Detective Peabody.”

“I know who you are. An easy case for New York’s top murder cop, isn’t it, as you already have the killer. Or what’s left of the son of a bitch.” His good hand fisted on his knee, rapped twice. “I wish to God he’d lived through it so I could think of him rotting in a cell for the rest of his life.”

“Peabody, see if there’s a more comfortable, more private place we can talk to—Your name, sir?”

“Loren Able. I won’t leave Willimina.”

“No, sir, but I need to speak with you, and I need to give you some facts.”

Peabody managed to secure a small break room—a single table, four chairs, a pair of vending machines, and an AutoChef that looked older than Noah. And somehow, being Peabody, she’d come up with a small pillow.

“Mr. Able, the nurse told me you should have your foot elevated.” She set the pillow on the fourth chair, angled it.

He sighed. “That’s kind of you.” He lifted his leg with his hands, set his foot carefully on the pillow.

“Can I get you some water, some tea?”

“I would give you my first born, if I had one, for some decent black coffee.”

“Let me see what I can do.”

When Peabody went out, Able shut his eyes a moment. “I read the Icove book. Haven’t seen the vid, but I read the book. It appears Nadine Furst captured the detective very well. You’re fortunate in your partner, Lieutenant.”

“I am.”

“Facts, you said. I’d like to hear the facts.”

“Not all of this will filter through the media,” Eve said. “Not at all while the investigation’s active.”

“I’ve been a lawyer for thirty-nine years, Lieutenant. I know how to keep my mouth shut.”

“I’m going to tell you about Paul Rogan.”

As she spoke, he closed his eyes again so she couldn’t read them. But the burn on his face became an angrier red as she described the home invasion.

When she finished, he said nothing for a long moment. Then he opened his eyes. “You’re saying, essentially, he was told to make a choice. His life and those of us in that room this morning, or the lives of his wife and child?”

“All evidence points to that, yes.”

He drew in a deep breath. “I came out of that room with some broken bones, some bruises. A woman I’ve known since birth is fighting for her life. A woman who’s a daughter to me in all but blood. If I’d had even seconds of warning, I would have tried to shield her with my own body. I wouldn’t have hesitated. I may, eventually, be able to accept Paul Rogan made the only choice he could make as I may have done the same. If Willi dies, I’ll curse him with my last breath.”