Faithless in Death (In Death, #52)(56)

No way out of it, Eve thought. “It’s her book, Commander. An early copy of her book on the Red Horse case.”

When he crooked a finger, Eve stepped to the desk, handed it over.

“You vetted this, I assume.”

“Yes, sir. It’s accurate. Maybe dramatic in parts, but accurate.”

He arched his eyebrows. “Infecting people with an airborne virus that causes hallucinations, making them murderous or suicidal qualifies as dramatic, I’d say.”

He handed it back, picked up his glass. Set it down again.

“My wife went to a workshop.”

Carefully, Eve said, “Yes, sir.”

“On health, nutrition, longevity, mind-body connectivity.”

Being an experienced investigator, Eve studied the green gunk. “I see.”

“The workshop led to another workshop and classes, which have resulted in what you see here. Her recipe—more accurately her concoction—of raw fruits, vegetables, vitamin supplements, herbs, and Christ knows into ten ounces of questionable liquid to be consumed once daily—midday, apparently.”

She felt sincere and sharp pity. “And you’re supposed to drink that?”

“I’m on my second day of my first week’s supply. To be dispensed by my admin, whom she ordered to make it so.”

Anna Whitney, Eve thought, had a long and steely reach.

“I didn’t see him at his desk.”

“He’s at lunch, undoubtedly something he can actually chew. However.”

He lifted the glass, then angled his head. “I have more if you’d like to infuse your body, mind, and spirit with antioxidants and superfoods?”

“Thank you, sir, I’ll pass.”

“A lesser man would order you to drink so I don’t suffer alone.” Instead he took one heroic gulp. “Have a seat, Dallas.”

She figured she understood the Whitneys’ Marriage Rules included drinking gunk, but didn’t have a clue why he hadn’t dismissed her after her update.

She sat.

“As your investigation has connections to Natural Order, its membership, and Stanton Wilkey, I reached out to the FBI. They have investigated Natural Order—as has Homeland, Interpol, and others—for a number of years. The feds have successfully prosecuted individual members for violent crimes, though they have never successfully tied those acts to Wilkey or any of his family.”

“A cabbage rots from the head.”

It took him a minute. “A fish, a fish rots from the head. Cabbage is already a head. But yes, I agree. I’ve learned the FBI put an agent undercover into the membership. It took considerable time and resources. My information is the agent had begun to work his way up. Ten days ago, he went silent. He hasn’t reported in, hasn’t returned to the apartment used during his assignment or to the workplace used in his cover.”

“He got made.”

“That is the conclusion and the fear. This was an experienced agent whose cover was meticulously created. The assistant director, who spoke frankly with me, states this isn’t the first operation to go south. Witnesses—former members—who spoke to law enforcement or the media often recant, are deemed unreliable due to illegals abuse or other issues. Or simply disappear.

“Your investigation offers a new angle,” he continued. “A prominent family who appear mainstream now involved in a murder that, it turns out, appears motivated by the daughter’s affair with another woman. It provides a new pressure point. Due to that, the FBI is willing to share their accumulated data on Natural Order in exchange for the NYPSD providing them with the data on the investigation.”

Another quid pro quo, Eve thought. It seemed to be the day for them.

“I plan to attempt to interview Wilkey today, Commander. Straightforward,” she added. “Routine due to the nine-one-one caller’s connection to his group. I don’t plan to include Gwen Huffman’s affair with the victim, though that will leak. She’s deluding herself that she can keep that locked up, as too many people already know.”

“Will she testify, once it leaks, to the forced treatment she received on the island?”

“It depends on if she sees any personal advantage. And I hope to convince her of just that. I’ll add protective custody to that if she agrees to testify, Commander. A safe house. She won’t like it, but if she’s afraid enough, she’ll take it.”

“See that she is afraid enough. And watch your six with Wilkey. He didn’t get where he is by being easily led.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Keep me fully apprised. Dismissed.”

When she rose, he picked up the glass again.

She heard his muttered “Sweet Christ, Anna” as she walked out of his office.

When she swung into Homicide, into the smell of cop coffee and overseasoned veggie hash, she said, “Peabody,” and kept going.

Peabody, the remaining pocket of hash in one hand, a diet cherry fizzy in the other, hustled after her.

“Grabbing some lunch at my desk. You were longer than I figured.”

“The commander wanted a briefing.”

“I caught up with your consult with Mira from your notes.”

“Good. Saves time.” Eve dropped the book on her desk and hit the AutoChef for coffee.