Ritual in Death (In Death #27.5)(25)

“The pain is only if they refuse to accept, only to help them—”

“Inside the room, you ate and you drank, you engaged in sexual activity.”

Color flushed into her cheeks. It was amazing, Eve mused, what embarrassed murderers.

“Sex is an offering.”

“Ava didn’t offer, did she? After you’d feasted and stoked up, painted your pentagram, lit your candles, said whatever it is you people say, you stretched out a drugged, helpless, naked woman on the floor, and told a drugged, helpless man to have at her. He cared for her. They cared for each other, isn’t that true?”

“Yes, yes, but—”

“And when he finished what he’d have never done of his own will, the rest of you raped her.”

“Yes.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Everyone was required to take from the gift, and to give of ourselves. But I felt . . .”

“What?”

“Cold. So cold. Not the heat, not the fire, but ice. I heard her screaming in my head. I swear I heard her.” She covered her face with her hands. “But no one would listen. They pulled her to her feet. Kiki and Rodney. Silas stepped into the circle, and the cold, the cold was terrible. Her screaming was like spikes in my head. But no one heard her. He slashed her throat, and her blood sprayed all over him. Everyone rushed forward when she fell to take more blood, to make more blood. Jack passed out, so they coated him with her blood. They took him upstairs, left him in bed while they finished with her. Larry told me to go up, to take one of the knives and put it in Jack’s hand, and to give him another round of drugs so he’d overdose.”

“The plan was to kill Jack, leave him behind, so it looked as if he’d killed Ava.”

“Yes. Yes. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t give him more. Her blood was on my hands, and I could hear her screaming.” She laid down her head and wept.

“Give her five minutes to pull it together,” Eve told Peabody. “The charge is Murder in the Second, two counts,” she added, thinking of Trosky. “Additional charges are kidnapping, two counts, rape, inducing chemicals without consent or knowledge, including illegals. Have her booked and bolted. I’m going to go get us a shitload of warrants.”

Lack of sleep didn’t put a hitch in Eve’s stride as she walked to Silas Pratt’s front door. Big, fancy house, she noted. Well, he’d seen the last of that. The droid that answered looked down its nose. “Dr. and Mrs. Pratt are unavailable at this time. Please leave your name and state your business, and—”

He didn’t get any further as Eve shoved him aside. “Shut that thing down,” she ordered the uniforms that trailed after her and Peabody. She walked into the spacious living area where the doctor and his wife were sipping martinis.

“Exactly what is the meaning of this?” Silas demanded as he surged to his feet.

“Deal with the woman, Peabody. He’s mine. Silas Pratt, you’re under arrest. The charges are Murder in the First Degree in the death of Ava Marsterson, a human being. Murder in the First Degree in the death of—”

“This is absurd. You’re absurd.”

Eve felt that punch of his, accepted the ice that coated her belly. Even welcomed it. “Don’t interrupt. Resist, by all means, because I’d love to spend the next several minutes kicking your ass. Jesus, Peabody, can’t you shut her up?”

“She’s a screamer,” Peabody said cheerfully as she passed the hysterical Ola to waiting uniforms.

“Now where was I? Oh yeah, the death of Brian Trosky, another human being. We’ve got kidnapping charges, illegals, fraud, medical abuse, and just for fun, destruction of property. You guys seriously trashed that suite. You have the right to remain silent,” she began.

“You can go to hell.”

“Thanks, butNew York ’s close enough for me.” She grabbed one of his arms to pull it behind his back as she read him the rest of the Revised Miranda. When he tried to shake her off, she gave herself the pleasure of slamming the heel of her boot into his instep. He cursed at her, snarled at her as she clapped the restraints to his wrist. “What is that, Latin? Greek? Or is just all made up?”

He struggled as she frog-marched him across the room, which, she thought, it could be argued was the reason his head smacked into the doorjamb. “Gee, I bet you’re going to have a headache now. Cut it out, before you hurt yourself.”

“I’ll drink your blood from a silver cup.”

“That’s just disgusting.” She moved her mouth close to his ear. “You don’t have any power here, ass**le. Getting arrested, dragged out of your fancy house in front of your fancy neighbors, and hey, look, it’s Channel 75.” She beamed, pleased her heads-up to her contact there had brought the media. “Nothing like humiliation to water down power. I bet even the devil himself’s embarrassed.”

She muscled him into the back of the police car. She fixed dark glasses over his head, over his eyes. “Remember he’s a sensitive,” she told the cops she’d put in charge. “He goes straight into isolation.”

She slammed the door, put her hands on her hips. “Go home, Peabody,” she said when her partner stepped beside her and yawned until her jaw cracked. “Get some sleep.”

“I am so on that. Some day, huh?”