Ceremony In Death

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Feeney wanted to see Whitney first. So he made it early, and he made it personal. They, too, went back together a long way, Feeney thought as he pulled up in front of the neat two-level home in the 'burbs. He'd been here socially over the years. The commander's wife loved to throw parties.

His mood wasn't sociable now as he strode up the pebbled walk toward the quiet house in the wakening neighborhood. A few yards down, a dog was barking in high, monotonous yips. The bark had none of the faintly metallic ring that said droid, but held a vibrancy of flesh and blood. The kind of dog that shit in the yard, Feeney thought with a shake of his head, and scratched at fleas.

Leaves skittered playfully along the street, most of them making beelines for lawns. Lawns that were, in a neighborhood like this, tended like a religion.

Feeney, himself, didn't get 'burb life, where you had to rake and mow and water or hire someone to rake and mow and water. He'd raised his family in the city, used the public parks. Hell, you had to pay for them, anyway. He moved his shoulders restlessly, not quite comfortable with the morning silence.

Anna Whitney answered his knock, and though she couldn't have been expecting company at that hour, she was already decked out in a trim jumpsuit. Her light hair waved stylishly, and her makeup was subtle and perfect. Her lips curved in welcome. Her eyes may have flickered with surprise and curiosity, but she was too much the cop's wife to ask questions.

"Feeney, how nice to see you. Come in, please, have some coffee. Jack's just having his second cup in the kitchen."

"Sorry to disturb you at home, Anna. I need a few minutes of the commander's time."

"Of course. And how's Sheila?" she asked as she led the way down the hall toward the kitchen.

"She's fine."

"She looked just wonderful the last time I saw her. Her new stylist is terrific. Jack, you've got company for coffee." She breezed into the kitchen, caught the surprise, then the speculation in her husband's eyes. She knew enough to make a quick exit. "I'll let you two chat. I've got a million things to do this morning. Feeney, you give Sheila my best, now."

"I will. Thanks." He waited until the door swung closed, never taking his eyes off Whitney's. "Goddamn it, Jack."

"This should be discussed in my office, Feeney."

"I'm talking to you." Feeney jabbed a ringer. "To someone I've known twenty-five years. To someone who knew Frank. Why'd you cut me out of this? Why did you order Dallas to lie to me?"

"That was my decision, Feeney. The investigation had to be on a need-to-know basis."

"And I didn't need to know."

"No." Whitney folded his big hands. "You didn't need to know."

"Frank and I raised some of our kids together. Alice was my godchild. Frank and I rode as partners for five fucking years. Our wives are like sisters. Who the hell are you to decide I don't need to know he's being investigated?"

"Your commander," Whitney said shortly and pushed his still steaming coffee aside. "And the reasons you just stated are the very reasons I made the decision."

"You pushed me aside. You know damn well my division should have been involved. You needed records."

"Records were part of the problem," Whitney said evenly. "There was no record of a heart defect in his medical files, no record of a connection, personal or professional, between him and a known chemi-dealer."

"Frank had nothing to do with illegals."

"No records," Whitney continued. "And his closest friend is the best E-detective in the city."

Feeney's eyes went wide, and his color rose hot. "You think I wiped records? You had Dallas looking at me?"

"No, I didn't think you wiped records, but it wasn't something I could ignore with IAD breathing down my neck. Who would you have picked to do the work, Feeney?" Whitney demanded with an impatient gesture. "I knew that Lieutenant Dallas would be thorough and careful and that she'd bust her ass to clear both you and Frank. I knew she had – contacts – that could access those records."

Deluged by emotion, Feeney turned to stare out of the gleaming window into the backyard with its tidily mowed grass and majestic fall flowers. "You put her in a bad spot. You ordered her into a lousy position, Jack. Is that what happens when you command? You put your troops' backs to the wall?"

"Yeah, that's what happens." Whitney ran a hand over his dark, grizzled hair. "You do what needs to be done, and you live with it. I had IAD drooling. My priority was to clear Frank and shield his family from anymore hardship. Dallas was my best shot. You trained her, Feeney, you know she was my best shot."

"I trained her," Feeney agreed, sick inside.

"What would you have done?" Whitney demanded. "Straight, Feeney. You've got a dead cop who's been tagged buying illegals from a suspected dealer who's under surveillance. There were drugs in his system when he died. Your gut tells you no way, no way he was dirty. And maybe your heart's telling you, too, because you remember when you were both rookies. But IAD's got no gut, and it's got no heart. What would you have done?"

And because he'd had a sleepless night to think on it, to worry the steps, Feeney shook his head. "I don't know. But I know I don't want your job. Commander."

"You've got to be crazy to want this job." Whitney's wide face relaxed slightly. "Dallas has gone a long way to clearing Frank, and she took you out of it within the first twenty-four hours. She's hardly had more than a week on this, and she's already cleared a path. With her reports, I've been able to back IAD off. They're not happy about Frank setting up his own sting, but they've eased the pressure."

"That's good." Feeney dug his hands into his pockets as he turned back. "She's good. Christ, Jack, I hit her hard."

Whitney's brows knit. "You should have come to me. Going after her was off, Feeney. I gave the orders."

"I took it personal. I made it personal." He remembered how she'd looked at him, her face pale, her eyes blank. He'd seen people with that look before – victims, he thought now, who were used to taking a fist in the face. "I've got to fix it with her."

"She called in a couple minutes before you showed up. She's doing a follow-through on a new lead. At home."

Feeney jerked his head in a nod. "I'd like a couple hours personal time."

"You've got it."

"And I want in on this."

Whitney sat back, considered. "That'll be up to Dallas. She's primary. If we're opening this up, she chooses her own team."

– =O=-***-=O=-

"Answer the 'link, will you, Peabody?" Eve continued to scan the data on-screen as her 'link beeped insistently. It was a wonder to her how many names she recognized from the social, political, and professional registers. It was doubtful she'd have recognized quite so many a year before, but connecting with Roarke had broadened her horizons.

"Doctors, lawyers," she muttered. "Christ, this guy's been to dinner here. And I think Roarke used to sleep with this woman. This dancer. She's got a hit on Broadway and a mile of leg."

"It's Nadine," Peabody announced and wondered if Eve was talking to herself or really wanted to share that particular information. She hacked, sneezed, then added in her now raspy voice. "Furst."

"Perfect." Eve cleared the screen, just in case, and turned to the 'link. "So, Nadine, what's the story?"

"You're the story, Dallas. Two dead people. It's dangerous to know you."

"You're still breathing."

"So far, so good. I thought you might be interested in some data that's come my way. We can do a trade."

"Show me yours, maybe I'll show you mine."

"Exclusive one on one, in your home, with you discussing the investigation of both knifings, for the noon broadcast."

Eve didn't bother to snort. "One on one reporting the status of my investigation, in my office, for the evening broadcast."

"The first body was found at your house. I want in."

"It was found outside on the sidewalk, and you're not getting in."

Nadine huffed out a breath. The pout was for her own benefit. She knew better than to think it would budge Eve. "I want the noon."

Eve checked her watch, calculated, considered. "I'll clear you into my office. Arrival time eleven forty-five. If I can make it, I'll be there. If not…"

"Damn it, we need setup time. Fifteen minutes isn't – "

"It's enough, Nadine, for someone as good as you are. Be sure your data makes this worth my while."

"Make sure you don't look like a rag picker," Nadine shot back. "Do something with your hair, for God's sake."

Rather than respond, Eve ended transmission. "What is this obsession people have with my hair and wardrobe?" She raked a bad-tempered hand through the hair in question.

"Mavis told me you're overdue for a style session. Leonardo's bummed about it."

"You hanging with Mavis?"

"I've gone down to catch her act a couple times." She blew her nose heartily. Over-the-counters were pure crap, she decided. "I like watching her."

"I haven't had time for a style session," Eve muttered. "I trimmed it myself a couple days ago."

"Yeah, I could tell." At Eve's narrow look, Peabody smiled blandly. "It looks just lovely, sir."

"Kiss ass." Eve switched her screen back on. "And if you're finished with your critique of my personal appearance, maybe you'd like to run a few of these names."

"I recognize some of them." Peabody bent over Eve's shoulder. "Louis Trivane: big shot celebrity lawyer. Gets the stars out of legal jams. Marianna Bingsley: department store heiress and professional manhunter. Carlo Mancinni, cosmetic enhancement guru – medical doctor – you have to be way rich to have him even consider doing body sculpting on you."

"I know the names, Peabody. I want background, personal data, financial data, medical data, any arrests. I want to know the names of their spouses and kids and pets. I want to know when and how they connected with Cross and why they decided Satan was a cool guy."

"It'll take days." Peabody said it mournfully and reminded Eve painfully of Feeney. "Even shooting them into the IRCCA."

Eve said nothing. The International Resource Center on Criminal Activity was one of Feeney's prides and joys.

"If I could tag someone in the E-Division for help, we could cut the time in half. Maybe less." Peabody jerked a shoulder. "So, where do you want me to start?"

"We've got a hop on Wineburg, so dig deeper there, and on Lobar – Robert Mathias. Then start at the top and work down. I'll start at the bottom and work up. Look for withdrawals of large amounts at regular intervals. We damn well better have what we need when we meet in the middle."

She narrowed her eyes, thinking. The financial data on Selina's cult would be protected by the Privacy Act and its status as a registered religion. Still, there was a chance, a slim one, that she'd been cocky enough to make deposits in her personal account.

That was a simple matter to check on. For the other, she would have to decide if the data would hold solid if she was able to access it, and to access it, she needed Roarke.

She'd wait, she decided, a day or two. Once they ascertained how much money the membership list was suspected of feeding into Selina's pockets, she'd reassess.

It would be tough to sell the PA on religious contributions as extortion, but it might be a start.

"With Wineburg's name linked to Cross's cult, I can pull her into Interview. I think we'll make it, say, around eleven thirty."

"You've got the spot with Nadine at eleven forty-five."

"Yeah." Eve's smile spread. "That'll work."

"Oh."

"It's not my fault if some big-nosed reporter finds out I'm questioning Selina Cross, knows I'm primary on two recent homicides, then puts two and two together."

"And goes on air with it."

"Might shake up some of these fine, upstanding Satanists. Some people get real chatty when they're shook. Get me that data, and I can shake them harder."

"I bow to you."

"Save it until we see if it works. You use this unit. I can use one of Roarke's to make the first pass. Computer, copy disc, print out hard copy." She glanced up at the movement in the doorway, went very still. "Abort," she murmured and braced to take the next hit from Feeney.

"Peabody." He sent her a quiet look out of sleep-starved eyes. "I need a moment with your lieutenant."

"Sir?" Though she rose, Peabody waited for Eve's signal.

"Take a break, Peabody. Get yourself some coffee "

"Yes, sir." She headed out, feeling the needles of edgy tension prickling the air.

Eve didn't speak, simply stood. Her body was set, he noted, not to defend, but to absorb the next blow. Her eyes were carefully empty. But her hand that she braced on the desk shook. He stared at it a moment, amazed and ashamed that he'd caused that.

"Your, ah, Summerset said I should just come up." It was warm in the room, but he didn't remove his rumpled overcoat. Instead, he shoved his hands in the pockets. "I was off yesterday. Coming down on you was off. You were doing your job."

He saw her lip tremble, as if she would speak or make some sound. Then she firmed it again and said nothing. She looked, he realized, whipped.

"You broke her heart."

"Her father beat her, tortured her, raped her."

"You've been her father for ten years."

How the hell was he supposed to deal with that? And how could he possibly ignore it?

"The things I said – I shouldn't have." He pulled his hands free to scrub them hard over his face. "Jesus, Dallas. I'm sorry."

"Did you mean them?" It was out before she could stop it. She held up a hand, turned away, stared blindly out the window.

"I wanted to mean them. I was pissed." He crossed to her, his hands flapping uselessly. "I got no excuse," he began. He touched her, then snatched his fingers away from her shoulder when she cringed. "I got no excuse," he said again after a steadying breath. "And you got a right to step back from me. I jumped hard where I shouldn't have jumped."

"You don't trust me now." She skimmed the back of her hand over her cheek, ashamed the single tear had gotten past her guard.

"That's bullshit, Dallas. There's nobody I trust more. Look, goddamn it, it takes a laser hit to get me to apologize to my own wife. I'm telling you I'm sorry." Impatient now, he grabbed her arm, pulled her around. She froze. Her eyes were bright, tears sheening them but not, thank Christ, falling. "Don't go female on me, Dallas. I can't kick myself in the ass much harder than I already am."

He jerked up his chin, tapped a finger on it. "Go ahead. Free shot. We won't say anything about you punching out a superior officer."

"I don't want to hit you."

"Goddamn it, I outrank you. I said take your shot."

A ghost of a smile flitted around her mouth. He looked so fierce, she thought, those drooping camel eyes sparking with temper and frustration. "Maybe after you shave. That stubble'd skin my knuckles."

Relief flooded through him at the slight curve of her lips. "You're going soft. Living the high life with that rich Irish son of a bitch."

"I beat hell out of a sparring droid last night. One of Roarke's finest."

"Yeah?" Pride swelled in him, ridiculously.

She tucked her tongue in her cheek. "I pretended it was you."

He grinned, took out the bag of candied almonds from his pocket, offered it. "E-detectives don't have to use their fists. They use their brains."

"You taught me to use both."

"And to follow orders," he added, his eyes resting on hers again. "I'd have been ashamed of you if you'd forgotten that. You did right, Dallas, for Frank, for the department. For me," he said and watched her eyes swim again. "Don't do that." His voice shook with the plea. "Don't start that shit. That's an order."

She swiped the back of her hand under her nose. "I'm not doing anything."

He waited a moment, just to be sure she wasn't going to lose it and embarrass them both. When her eyes cleared, he nodded in both relief and approval. "Good." He jiggled the bag in his hand. "Now, are you going to let me in?"

She opened her mouth, shut it.

"I've seen Whitney," he told her. Feeney found he wanted to smile. This was the cop he'd trained. Solid, sturdy, and straight. "Chewed him out in his own kitchen."

"Did you?" She lifted her brows. "I'd like to have seen it."

"Trouble was, once it was over, I had to agree with him. He'd picked the best cop for the job. I know you've been busting ass to push IAD out of the picture, clear Frank. Me," he added. "And I know you've been working on finding out who did him and Alice." He had to take a breath because it hurt, still hurt. "I want in, Dallas. I'm going to tell you straight, I need in to clear this out of my gut. Whitney said it was up to you."

The tension seeped out of her. She could give him this, give both of them this. "Let's get to work."

– =O=-***-=O=-

Eve was so pleased to have Selina Cross in Interview, she'd missed anticipating the obvious bonus of having her represented by Louis Trivane. She flashed grins at both of them as she secured the door to Interview Room A.

"Ms. Cross, I appreciate your cooperation. Mr. Trivane."

"Eve – "

"Lieutenant Dallas," she corrected, snapping off the grin. "We're not socializing here."

"You know each other." Selina's eyes went icy, pinned her lawyer.

"Your representative knows my husband on a social level. I'm acquainted with a number of attorneys in the city, Ms. Cross. This doesn't affect my or their job performance. We'll go on record."

Eve engaged the recorder, recited the pertinent data. After reading the revised Miranda, she sat. "You've exercised your right to an attorney, Ms. Cross."

"I certainly have. I've already been harassed by you twice, Lieutenant Dallas. I prefer that this continued harassment go on record."

"Me, too." Eve smiled. "You were acquainted with Robert Mathias, also known as Lobar."

"He was Lobar," Selina corrected. "It was his chosen name."

"Was is the operative word, seeing as he's in a refrigerated unit at the morgue. And so is Thomas Wineburg. Are you acquainted with him?"

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure."

"Well, that's interesting. He was a member of your cult."

Selina set her chin, waved away Trivane as he leaned forward to speak to her. "I can't be expected to recognize the name of every member of my church, Dallas. We are…" She spread her hands on the small table. "Legion."

"Maybe this will refresh your memory." Eve opened a file, took a still out, and slid it across the table. Death shots were always ugly.

Selina studied it with a small smile tugging at her mouth. A finger of the hand she wore webbed again today traced the spread of harsh red blood. "I can't say for certain. We meet in the dark." Her gaze lifted to Eve. "It's our way."

"I can say for certain. Both he and Lobar were yours, and both were murdered with a style of knife used in your rituals."

"An athame, yes. We are not the only religion who uses such an instrument in ceremony. I feel, after this violence, this persecution of members of my church, the police should be concerned with protecting us rather than pointing fingers. Obviously, there is a person or persons determined to eliminate us."

"I figured you had your own protection. Doesn't your master look out for his own?''

"Your mockery only shows your ignorance."

"Having sex with an eighteen-year-old delinquent shows yours. Did you have sex with Wineburg, too?"

"I said I can't be sure I knew him. But if I did, I very likely had sex with him."

"Selina." Trivane cut her off, his voice firm. "You're goading my client, Lieutenant. She's stated she can't positively identify this victim."

"She knew him. Both of you did. He was a weasel. Do you know what a weasel is in cop-speak, Ms. Cross? An informant." Eve rose, leaned over, bending her body close to Selina's. "Were you worried about how much he'd told me? Is that why you arranged for him to die? Were you having him followed?" She slanted her gaze toward Trivane briefly. "Maybe you have all your… faithful followed."

"I see whatever I need to see in the smoke."

"Yeah, in the smoke. The psychic's version of the Peeping Tom. It was risky for Wineburg to come by the viewing room. Why do you suppose he wanted a look at Alice? Had he been there the night she was drugged, raped? Did you let him have her?"

"Alice was an initiate. A willing one."

"She was a child, a confused one. You like luring the young, don't you? They're so much more interesting than stubby fools like Wineburg. With their firm bodies, their malleable minds. People like Wineburg and the distinguished counsel here, they're just for the money, and the cachet. But those like Alice, they're so tender. So tasty."

Selina looked up smugly through her thick, dark lashes. "She was. She enjoyed and was enjoyed. She didn't have to be lured, Dallas. She came to me."

"Now she's dead. Three deaths. Your members must be getting nervous." Eve smiled thinly at Trivane. "I would be."

"Martyrdom isn't new, Dallas. People have been killed because of their faith for centuries. And still, the faith survives. We'll survive. We'll triumph."

Eve took out another still, slapped it on the table. "He didn't."

It was Lobar, his mutilated body caught it the garish lights of the crime scene. The wound on his throat gaped open like a scream.

It was Trivane who Eve watched. His eyes blinked rapidly, horror flickering through. His skin went pasty, and his chest rose and fell in jerks.

"He didn't survive," Eve said softly, "did he, Selina?"

"His death is a symbol. He will not be forgotten."

"Do you own an athame?"

"I own several, naturally."

"Like this?" She took out another photo, this one a close-up of the weapon left pinned into Lobar. Blood crusted the blade.

"I have several," Selina repeated. "Some similar to this, as one might expect. But I don't recognize this particular one."

"Hallucinogens were found in Lobar's system. You use drugs during rituals."

"Herbals, and some chemicals. All legal."

"Not everything found in Lobar's system was on the legal list."

"I can't be responsible for the choices other people make."

"He was with you the night he died. Was he using?"

"He had taken the ritual wine. If he took something otherwise, it was without my knowledge."

"You have priors as a chemi-dealer."

"And paid my debt to so-called society. You have nothing on me, Lieutenant."

"I have three bodies. And they're yours. I've got a dead cop, and he's on you, too. I'm closing in on you, Selina. Step by step."

"Keep out of my face."

"Or?"

"Do you know pain, Dallas?" Selina's voice went low and thick. "Do you know the pain that eats at the stomach like drops of acid spreading? You beg for relief, but none comes. The pain becomes agony, and agony almost pleasure. The pain becomes so intense, so unspeakable that if a knife came to your hand, you would gladly slice through your own guts to cut out the source of it."

"Would I," Eve said coolly. "Would I really?"

"I can offer you that. I can offer you pain."

Eve smiled, and her smile was slow and humorless. "That slips into the area of threatening a police officer. And that'll get you some time in a cage until your lawyer finesses you out again."

"You bitch." Furious that she'd been trapped so neatly and with so little effort, Selina sprang to her feet. "You can't hold me for that."

"Sure, I can. Selina Cross, you're under arrest for verbal threat to physically harm a police officer."

She was fast, but Eve's reflexes were sharp. She blocked the first blow as Selina flew at her. But the second rapid swipe caught her along the throat with those lethal dark nails. She smelled her own blood and indulged herself by bringing her elbow up to ram Selina's chin.

The dark eyes rolled back, went glassy. "Looks like we add resisting arrest. You're going to have your hands full for the next couple hours, counselor."

He hadn't moved, not a muscle. Trivane continued to sit, staring at the photos of the dead. When Feeney opened the door, a uniform behind him, Eve nodded. "Book her," she ordered. "Verbal threat and resisting."

Selina staggered as Eve passed her to the uniform. But her eyes cleared and fixed on Eve's face with bubbling malice. She began to speak softly, in a chant that rose and fell almost musically. She swiveled her head, looking over her shoulder as the uniform took her out.

Eve dabbed ringers on her throat, disgusted when they came away smeared with blood. "Did you catch what she was saying there?"

Feeney took out a handkerchief, handed it to her. "Sounded like Latin, bastardized some. My mother made me learn when I was a kid. Had delusions about me becoming a priest."

"See if you can make any of it out from the record. We may be able to add to the charges. Shit, this burns. Interview is concluded," she added and logged the time and date. "Trivane, you want to talk to me?"

"What?" He looked over, swallowed, shook his head. "I'll see my client, Lieutenant, as soon as she's booked. These charges won't hold."

Eve held out her bloody fingers. "Oh, I think they will. Take a good look, Louis." She stepped closer, jammed her fingers under his nose. "It could be yours next time."

"I'll see my client," he repeated, and his face was still white as death as he hurried from the room.

"That bitch is loony," Feeney commented.

"Tell me something I don't know."

"She hates your ever fucking guts," he said pleasantly, happy to be in tandem again. "But you knew that, too. Put the hoodoo on you."

"Huh?"

"Cursed you." He winked at her. "Let me know if you start getting stomach cramps. You're starting to get to her."

"Not enough," Eve murmured. "But my money's on the lawyer. Let's keep a man on him, Feeney. I don't want him ending up dead before he breaks. It was the way he looked at the shot of Lobar. Shock, then something like recognition." She shook her head. "Let's not lose him." She glanced at her watch, hummed with satisfaction. "Just in time to make my nooner with Nadine."

"You want to have that neck looked after. Nasty."

"Later." She headed out, moving fast. Nadine wouldn't miss the injury. Nor, Eve thought, would the all-seeing eye of the camera.

– =O=-***-=O=-

"What the hell happened to you?" Nadine demanded. She stopped pacing, stopped looking at her watch.

"Little problem in Interview."

"You cut it close, Dallas, we got two minutes before air. You don't have time to clean up."

"Fine, we'll go like we are."

"Get a voice and light level," Nadine told her camera operator. She took out a mirrored compact, polishing up her face when she sat. "Looks like female," she added. "Long, nasty nails, four separate grooves."

"Yeah." Eve patted the already stained handkerchief against the wound. "Somebody was curious, they could check booking, get the data."

Nadine's eyes went sharp. "I imagine someone could," she purred. "You didn't do anything with your hair."

"I cut it."

"I meant anything constructive. Coming up in thirty. Set, Suzanna?''

The operator made a circle of forefinger and thumb. "The fresh blood shows up real good. Nice touch."

"Gee, thanks." Eve settled back, hooked one booted foot over her knee. "Let's keep this short, Nadine. I haven't seen yours yet."

"Here's a preview then. What local white witch is the son of infamous mass murderer David Baines Conroy, who is currently doing five separate life stretches, no parole options, in maximum lockup on Penal Station Omega?"

"Who – "

"In five," Nadine said sweetly, delighted to have snagged Eve's full attention. "Four, three…" She signaled the last of the countdown with her fingers, below camera level. On cue, she stared into the camera with sober eyes. "Good afternoon, this is Nadine Furst, leading off the noon hour with an exclusive interview with homicide Lieutenant Eve Dallas in her office at Cop Central…"

Eve was prepared for the questions. She knew Nadine's style well, too well to allow herself to be rattled by the information that had been dumped on her seconds before air time. As, she imagined, Nadine had hoped. She answered briefly, carefully, and knew she was bumping up Channel 75's and Nadine's rating points with every on-the-air second.

"The department is proceeding with the belief that the cases are connected as evidence indicates. Though different weapons were left at the scene of each murder, they are of similar style."

"Can you describe the weapons?"

"I can't comment on that."

"But they were knives."

"They were sharp instruments. I'm not at liberty to go into any more detail. Doing so would jeopardize our investigation at this point."

"The second victim. You were pursuing him at the time of his death. Why?"

She was ready for this, had already decided to exploit the question for her own benefit. "Thomas Wineburg had indicated he had information which would be useful to my investigation."

"What information?"

Zip, Eve thought, but kept her eyes level. "I'm not at liberty to divulge that. I can only say we spoke, and he became agitated and ran. I pursued."

"And he was killed."

"That's correct. Running didn't help him."

Annoyed that her director indicated her time was up through her earpiece, Nadine wound the interview to a close. "And we're clear. Suzanna?" Nadine simply gestured to the door and sent her operator out. "Off the record," she began.

"Nope. Gimme."

"All right then." Nadine sat back, crossed her pretty legs. "Charles Forte took his mother's maiden name legally twelve years ago after his father was convicted of the ritual slayings of five people. It's believed he killed countless others, but it's never been proved. The bodies have never been found."

"I know the story behind Conroy. I didn't know he had a kid."

"That was kept locked. Privacy Act. The family was already out of it. The mother had divorced and relocated a few years before Baines was caught. The kid was sixteen when she took him and left. Twenty-one when his father was tried and convicted. My sources claim the son attended court every day."

Eve thought of the small, unassuming man she'd met at Alice's viewing. Son of a monster. How much of that came through the blood? She thought of her own father, nearly shuddered. "I appreciate it. If it comes to anything, I'll owe you."

"Yeah, you will. I've got lots of data on cults in the city. Nothing as dramatic as this, but it may lead somewhere. Meanwhile, if you were in Interview with someone pissed off enough to try to slice your jugular, should I assume you have a suspect?"

Eve studied her nails. She supposed some would have said she was overdo for a manicure. "I can't comment on that. You know, Nadine, cameras aren't allowed down in Booking."

"Damn shame. Thanks for the spot, Dallas. I'll be in touch."

"Do that." Eve watched her stroll out, had no doubt Nadine was making tracks to Booking. And that Selina Cross was going to have her name broadcast by the end of the noon report.

All in all, she decided, not a bad morning.

Wincing, she dragged through her drawers hoping for a first aid kit.