Obsession in Death(120)

“Tell me how you cleaned Ledo up.”

It took three long hours of listening. Eve asked questions, made comments, occasionally guided the topic back, but for the most part, just listened.

“All right, Lottie, we’ve got what we need. You’re going to be charged with murder in the first, two counts. You have confessed to those crimes on record, waived your right to an attorney.”

“Aren’t we going to talk some more?”

“We’re done now.”

“But you’ll come back.”

Eve rose. No point in saying all the angry things that ran through her head. No point. “They’re going to take you down to Booking again, Lottie. And tomorrow Dr. Mira will talk to you.”

“You like her, Dr. Mira.”

Eve froze. “Yeah. Was she on your list, Lottie?”

“Other people get in the way of a real friendship. You can’t see me when other people are in the way.”

Eve planted her hands on the table, leaned over. “It’s not other people, Lottie. It’s not Mira or Mavis or Nadine or Peabody or any of them. That’s not why I don’t see what you want me to see.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Here’s simple. I see you, Lottie. I see you just fine. And I don’t like you. Dallas, leaving interview. Record off.”

She walked out on Lottie’s wailing scream. She just leaned against the door a minute, pinched her nose to try to relieve pressure.

“I’m taking her to Booking.” Peabody strode up on her silly boots, McNab stride for stride with her in his.

“We are.”

“We are.”

“Okay. Then get out. Go be insane in Times Square.”

“That’s affirmative.”

She’d write it up, Eve thought, and get the hell out herself. And she found Dawson on the bench outside Homicide.

“I couldn’t watch any more of it. Couldn’t do it. But I couldn’t leave until I said… Jesus, Dallas, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not on you, Dawson.”

“She’s one of mine. I worked with her. And I… didn’t see her.”

“Nobody could see her the way she wanted. Even she can’t. Don’t carry this one. Leave it to Mira, and probably a platoon of shrinks. Crazies out there, Dawson, all over the damn place.”

“Came into my house.”

Eve glanced toward the bullpen. “Mine, too. Sweep it out.”

He let out a breath, half a laugh, nodded. “Yeah. I’m going home. My wife’s going to kick my ass for being late.”

“Bet she won’t.”

She went into her office, started the report.

“Must you?” Roarke said from the doorway.

“I want it done tonight. Over, like the year. I want it out of my head – much as I can manage. It won’t take long, just a summary since it’s all on the record.”

“Then I’ll be in your bullpen having a drink with your cops.”

She froze in place. “A drink? What do you mean, a drink?”

“They’re all of them off duty, by two hours now, I’d say. And someone who won’t be named happened to have a bottle of whiskey handy.”

“Feeney,” she hissed.

“You didn’t hear it from me. Make it snappy, will you, Lieutenant? I want this out of my head as well.”

She made it as snappy as she could, but even then it took more than an hour. He’d come back in by then, settled into her awful chair with his PPC.

“Done. Finished. Gone.”

“And my abused ass here thanks you.”

“How much did you drink?”

“We all had one, and that was enough. A bit of solidarity after the war, you could say. A bit of the strange, even after all this time with you, to find myself in a cop shop, clicking a glass of Irish with a room of cops. Feeney’s going to want a bit of time with you.”

“What? Why?”

“He was shaken down to the soles of his feet, Eve. Christ. So you’ll have a meal with him, or a beer, whatever suits the pair of you, soon as you can.”

“Sure. Yeah.”

“And now, you don’t actually want to go to Times Square, do you?”

“No!” The horror of it all but exploded on her face. “Jesus.”

“Ah, thank all the gods for that.” He let out a long sigh as they stepped out into the garage. “I’ll tell you what I want to do when we get home.”

“It’s what you want to do all the time, anywhere.”

“It’s not till after midnight for that, however eager you are, so we start the new year off with good luck. What I want to do when we get home is get drunk with my wife. And watch the ball drop from the quiet of our own home, with the fire going and the cat sprawled out with us. And every bit of the insanity in this world outside and away from us.”

“I could get drunk.” She nodded at the idea as she got into the car. “Not a whole lot drunk, not just a tiny bit drunk. Just the right amount of drunk.”

“The perfect amount of drunk,” he agreed. “I need another minute.”

“What for?”

“Just this.”

Just holding her, just feeling her heart beat, smelling her hair. Just that.