Holiday in Death (In Death #7)(67)

Rudy stared into his water, shifted the glass from hand to hand. “He was very clear as to how it would be handled, what he wanted. Piper was destroyed, terrified. We both believe very strongly in the service we provide. You see, we know just what it means to be matched with someone who fills your life, who makes the difference in it. We’re dedicated to helping others find what we have.”

“Your dedication’s earned you a nice fat portfolio.”

“Making a profit doesn’t negate the worth of the service. You live well, Lieutenant,” he said quietly. “Does that negate the worth of your marriage?”

Walked into that one, she told herself, but only lifted her eyebrows. “Let’s talk about you and how you handled Holloway.”

“I wanted to stand against him, but she couldn’t.” He closed his eyes. “He managed to get her alone, to threaten her. He even tried to induce her to…”

He opened his eyes again, and they were brimming with fury. “He wanted her. His kind, they want what belongs to someone else. So we paid, we did everything he demanded. Still, if he came in and caught her alone, he would touch her.”

“You must have hated him for that.”

“Yes. Yes, I hated him for that. For everything, but most of all for that.”

“Enough to kill him, Rudy?”

“Yes,” he said evenly before his lawyer could stop him. “Yes, enough to kill him.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“We don’t have enough to charge him.”

She knew it. Damn it, she knew it, but Eve went to battle with the assistant prosecuting attorney anyway.

“He’s got the means, he’s got the opportunity, and God knows he had a motive with Holloway. He had access to the enhancements used on all four victims,” she continued before APA Rollins could speak. “He knew all of them.”

“You don’t even have a decent circumstantial case against him.” Carla Rollins held her ground. She was barely five-two, despite the skyscraper heels she habitually wore. Her eyes were the color of blackberries, exotically slanted in a round face. Her complexion was creamy and smooth, her figure neat, her hair a ribbon-straight ebony that fell precisely one inch above her slim shoulders.

She looked, and sounded, like a child care professional, and had a core as tough as moon rock. She liked to win, and didn’t see a victory in The State v. Hoffman.

“You want me to bag him when he’s got his hands around the next victim’s throat?”

“That would be handy,” Rollins said evenly. “Barring that, get me a confession.”

Eve paced the length of Whitney’s office. “I can’t get you a confession if we spring him.”

“So far all he’s guilty of is banging his sister,” Rollins said in her soft, sweet voice. “And paying blackmail. Maybe we could cook him on illegal and unlicensed solicitation since he knew Holloway’s predilections, but it’s a stretch. I can’t give you murder, Dallas, without more evidence or a confession.”

“Then I need to sweat him longer.”

“His lawyer’s called for a humane break. We can’t hold him any longer today,” she added as Eve snorted. “You can pick him up again tomorrow, after the standard twelve hours out.”

“I want a bracelet on him.”

This time Rollins sighed. “Dallas, I don’t have cause to order a security bracelet on Hoffman at this time. At this point he’s only a suspect, and not a solid one at that. He’s entitled, under the law, to his privacy and freedom of motion.”

“Christ, give me something.” Eve dragged both hands through her hair. Her eyes were burning from lack of sleep, her stomach raw from caffeine. Her still-healing wound was throbbing. “I want him tested and profiled. I want Mira to do him.”

“It’ll have to be voluntary.” Rollins held up one delicate hand before Eve could swear at her. She was used to cops swearing at her, and it didn’t particularly bother her. But she was thinking, and didn’t want the interruption. “I might be able to convince his attorney it’s in his best interest. Cooperation in this area would influence the PA’s office not to pursue the solicitation charges.”

Satisfied with the idea, Rollins rose. “Clear it with Mira, and I’ll see what I can do. But spring him, Dallas, within the hour.”

Whitney waited until Rollins breezed out, then shifted in his chair. “Sit down, Lieutenant.”

“Commander — “

“Sit,” he repeated and jabbed a finger at the chair across from his desk. “I’m concerned,” he began when she took her seat.

“I need more time to squeeze him. McNab’s working the system at Personally Yours. We could have something by the end of the day.”

“You concern me, Lieutenant.” He leaned back as Eve frowned. “You’ve been on this case nearly twenty-four/seven for more than a week.”

“So has the killer.”

“It’s unlikely the killer is still recovering from life-threatening wounds received in the line of duty.”

“My health chart’s clear.” She heard the edge of resentment in her own voice and took a careful breath. If she couldn’t maintain with Whitney, she’d only prove his point. “Your concern is appreciated, sir, but unnecessary.”