Forgotten in Death(117)

He thought about that, Eve noted. Sweat started to pool as he tried to think, to remember. “We’re testing every brick, and we’re going to find your DNA. And when we do, what happens, APA Reo?”

“What happens is Mr. Singer does two consecutive life sentences in a small, unpleasant cage in an off-planet facility. The fetus was healthy at the TOD, the fetus was viable outside the womb at TOD. Two life sentences and your attorney knows when we find that DNA, and we will, that’s a slam dunk.”

“His attorney is very confident her client’s DNA will not be found, as Mr. Singer had no part in constructing the aforesaid wall.”

“Did Mommy help you?” Peabody wondered. “Or did you do it all by yourself?”

Singer leaned over, whispered in Cross’s ear.

“Of course. I need a few moments with my client.”

“No problem. Dallas, Peabody, and Reo exiting Interview to accommodate counsel. Record off. Anybody want a snack?” Eve said, deliberately carefree as they left. “Peabody, use my code and get us some chips.”

“Really?” Peabody said when the door closed.

“Actually, yeah. And something to wash them down. This isn’t going to take as long as I thought.”

Mira came out of Observation, hurried toward them. “He’s lying, of course, but even in the relatively short time of the interview his skill for lying is eroding.”

“The DNA on the bricks did it,” Reo concluded. “Good call there, Dallas.”

“It might even be true. He’s worried it’s true. He’s afraid of prison.”

“He should be. And he’s sure as hell going there.”

“But you’ll make the deal.”

Reo spared Eve a glance before she put her hands together for Peabody and her armload of chips and sodas. “Yes! I want!”

“I started to get veggie chips for me, then I thought, screw that. I’ve earned these calories today.”

“You’ll make the deal,” Eve repeated as she opened her bag of chips.

“Twenty to twenty-five, minimum, on-planet. We discussed this, Dallas.”

“I’m not giving you grief over it. We both know it’s the mother pulling the strings. He rolls, he lays it all out, he can have the deal. He’ll probably die in prison anyway.” She crunched into a chip. “I’m not sorry about that. I don’t know if he pulled the trigger—I lean, especially after tonight, toward her on that. But he’s just as responsible.”

“You should take a blocker,” Mira told her.

“No. Feeling the hits keeps me mean. How’s it going in Observation?”

“Jack—the commander—is enjoying himself—and the chips. He liked your sad outrage, Peabody.”

Peabody lit right up. “Really?”

“I wonder what this grudge is Anna Whitney has on Elinor Singer?” Eve turned as the interview door opened.

And saw, immediately, Cross’s mouth had gone thin again.

“My client has certain information he’s willing to share, on record, for a dismissal of charges against him.”

“That’s a no. Cross, don’t waste my time.”

Cross stared hard at Reo. “I believe my client has information valuable to your investigation. In consideration of same—”

“You want to talk deal, we can talk deal. Depending on the information, the value thereof, and your client’s full disclosure of his part and participation in the murder of Johara Murr and the viable fetus. We both know he’s guilty. Again, it’s late. Don’t waste our time.”

Eve handed what was left of her bag of chips to Mira. “Add this to the pile. If you’re ready to get going again, counselor, we’ll get going. Otherwise, your client goes back to his cell, and we bring up his mother. She may be more forthcoming.”

She added a shrug. “First come, first dealt.”

“We resume the interview.”

Eve took the tube of Pepsi with her. “Record on. Resuming Interview with Singer, J. Bolton, and counsel. Dallas, Peabody, Reo entering Interview. Okay, J.B., spill it.”

“Immunity—”

“Is off the table.” Reo let out a sigh. “If your counsel is worth her fee, she explained to you we wouldn’t make that deal.”

“Five to ten,” Cross said briskly, “in a low-security facility on-planet.”

This time Reo just laughed. “You want us to give him a ride in a country club rehabilitation center? He murdered a woman and her thirty-two-week-old fetus.”

“I didn’t kill anyone! She did!”

“J.B.” Cross gripped his arm. “You need to be quiet. My client has information regarding the death of Johara Murr. He is over eighty years old. Even a ten-year sentence is prohibitive and extreme. I believe any court would agree—”

“Then let’s take it to court.” Eyes glittering, Reo leaned forward. “You want to risk that, you’d risk that, knowing what he told you? What his wife told us?”

“You spoke with Marvinia! She can’t say anything about it. We’re married.”

“Shut up, J.B. Fifteen years, on-planet, low security.”

“Listen up. Twenty to twenty-five, on-planet, max security. And this is contingent on whether the information your client has is viable, valuable, and truthful. There will be no negotiation on those terms. If I take this to court, he will serve two life sentences, off-planet. Take the deal or don’t, because he’s just the type of defendant I like to prosecute.”