Forgotten in Death(112)

“Take your hands off my son. Get out of my house.”

She lifted the gun in her hand and fired.

The bullet pinged off Eve’s topper. The impact—a solid punch with a sledgehammer—jerked her back, spun her to the left. As she reached for her own weapon, Roarke flew up the stairs.

The second bullet struck closer to her hip.

The pain stole her breath, had the edges of her vision blurring. Eve set her teeth, held her weapon steady.

“Fire again, you crazy bitch, and I’ll drop you. I’ve got it on low, but at your age, it’ll put you in ICU, I swear to fucking God.”

“You broke into my house. I will defend myself.”

“I’m a police officer. I have a warrant. Drop that weapon, or I drop you. Last chance.”

Eve held out her free hand to stop Roarke from shoving in front of her, and for five humming seconds they faced off.

Elinor let the gun fall to the thick rug. “I should have aimed for your head.”

“Yeah, your mistake.”

She walked over, put a boot on the weapon as she cuffed Elinor’s hands behind her back.

She muttered a curse as, restraints aside, Singer ran.

“I’ve got him,” Roarke told her and had him in hand, face against the wall, in under four feet.

“Elinor Bolton Singer, you’re under arrest for the murder of Johara Murr and the viable, healthy fetus she carried. You are further charged with the attempted murder of a police officer. Additional charges will include possession and use of an unlicensed firearm.”

Marvinia sat on the floor at the base of the stairs, arms wrapped tight around herself, eyes moons of shock as she rocked back and forth.

“What have they done? What have they done?”

“Shut up, you foolish twit. Contact my lawyer immediately.”

“Go to hell, you evil witch. Who was she? One of J.B.’s dalliances? Did he get some poor girl pregnant?”

“Johara and your son were in love, met in college,” Eve said as she walked Elinor down the stairs. “They lived together, hoped to get married.”

“He— But he never told me.”

“It was your grandchild they killed.”

“Oh, please don’t say that. Please no. Oh, J.B., no. No.”

“It’s insane, of course this is all insane,” J.B. babbled as Roarke walked him down. “A terrible mistake. Call the lawyer now, Marvinia.”

She got slowly to her feet. “Oh my God, you’re lying. You’re lying.”

“I need you to come with us, Ms. Singer.”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped at Eve. “Use Kincade. Am I under arrest?”

“No, ma’am, but I need you to come with us.”

“Marvinia, darling—”

“I will never speak to you again.” She turned away from him to Elinor. “If there is one positive note to this horror, I never have to speak to you again.”

“Let’s move them out. I’ll start with Mother. Elinor Singer, you have the right to remain silent.”

Eve read them their rights, one at a time, as they loaded them into the all-terrain.

“I need to take the weapon into evidence. I need something to put it in.”

“Field kit in the cargo area,” Roarke told her.

“You never miss.”

As Eve pulled out the kit, Elinor spoke coldly. “You will pay for this.”

“Sister, I get paid for this. But for this one, I’d do it for free.”

As she walked back in, she pulled out her communicator. “Suspects in custody. Female suspect fired an illegal weapon during the arrest—two shots at the arresting officer. I’m bringing the weapon, a handgun, which I believe is a thirty-two caliber, into evidence.”

“Whoa!” Peabody shouted out. “You got shot?”

“Magic topper. I’m five-by-five. On our way to the heliport.”

“Safe travels. It’s cleared up here.”

“Thank Christ.”

She went out to where Roarke waited.

“You’re going to have a couple of bruises blooming like flowers under that topper.”

“Yeah, I feel them.”

He gripped her chin, gave it a little shake. “Mild resistance, my ass.”

“Yeah, bad call on that.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t stun her.”

“At her age, even on low, she could stroke out. I want her alive for the ten, maybe fifteen or so years she’s got left.”



* * *



Those bruises sang an ugly song by the time she turned the Singers over for booking and escorted Marvinia up to an interview room.

“If you’d give me a couple minutes? I’m going to leave the door open, and Roarke will stay with you. You’re not under arrest. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Water, please. Just water.”

“I’ll bring it back.”

She stepped out as Peabody walked down with an ice pack. “Even with the coat, it had to hurt.”

“She caught me twice. Bitch.”

“I’ll get another.”

“No, I’d pretty much have to sit on the other. Are you caught up enough?” She slid the pack under her topper, pressed it to her chest.