Judgment in Death

CHAPTER TWELVE

She needed time to absorb and access, to let the new pieces shift into patterns. And she needed to consider, carefully, whether she wanted to damage another cop's career before she was certain that cop had done more than be careless.

But under it she was afraid her own marital strain made her too sympathetic to another's.

She would have her consult with Mira, input the new data, run probabilities. She would do it all by the book.

When she walked into her home office, she saw Mira sitting in a chair in the now tidy office, while Peabody and McNab worked back-to-back at their individual keyboards.

"I'm sorry I kept you waiting."

"That's perfectly all right." Mira set aside a cup of what Eve assumed was tea. "Peabody explained you might be delayed."

"Do you mind if we take this in another room?"

"Not at all." Mira rose, elegant as always in a sleek suit of spring leaf green. "I always enjoy seeing parts of your home."

Though she wasn't sure if it was strictly appropriate for a consult, Eve led the way to one of the lounging rooms. Mira sighed in appreciation. "What a lovely space," she murmured, studying the soft colors, the gracious lines of the furniture, the gleam of wood and glass. "My God, Eve, is that a Monet?"

Eve glanced at the painting, something in that same soft pallette that seemed to flow together and form a garden. "I have no idea."

"It is, of course," Mira said after she'd walked over to admire the painting. "Oh, I do envy you your art collection."

"It's not mine."

Mira only turned and smiled. "I envy it nonetheless. May I sit?"

"Yeah, sure. Sorry. I'm sorry, too, that I've dumped so much data on you in such a short time."

"We're both accustomed to working under pressure. These killings have ripples radiating throughout the department. Being in the center of those ripples is a very difficult position."

"I'm used to that, too."

"Yes." Something else here, Mira thought. She knew Eve too well to miss the small signs. But that would wait. "I concur with your analysis that both victims were killed by the same hand. The methodology notwithstanding, there is a pattern. The coins, the victims themselves, the brutality, and the knowledge of security."

"It's another cop," Eve said. "Or someone who used to be."

"Very likely. Your killer is enraged but controlled enough to protect himself by removing evidence. The rage is personal. I'd go as far as to say intimate. This may substantiate your cop-to-cop profile."

"Because he believed Mills and Kohli were dirty, or because he is?"

"The former, I believe. This isn't the act of someone protecting themselves but one of avenging. Your killer is systematic and sees himself as dispensing justice. He wants his victims marked as Judas, wants their crimes to be revealed."

"Then why not simply expose them? The data's there if you want to find it."

"That isn't enough. The loss of the badge, the disgrace. It's too easy. Their punishment must come from him. He or she was punished in some way, very likely through the job, in a manner that is perceived as unjust. Perhaps he was falsely accused of some infraction. The system somehow failed him, and now cannot be trusted."

"They knew him, or her."

"Yes, I'm sure of it. Not only because the victims seem to have been unprepared for the attack but because, psychologically, this connection only increases the rage. It's very likely they worked with their killer. Possibly, some act of theirs was responsible, at least in the killer's judgment, for the injustice that occurred to him. When you find him, Eve, you'll find connections."

"Do you see him in a position of authority?"

"A badge is a position of authority."

"Of command, then?"

"Possibly. But not as one who's confident of command, no. His confidence comes from his rage, and his rage, in part, from his disillusionment in the system he's represented. In the system his victims had sworn to represent."

"The system screwed him, they screwed the system. Why blame them?"

"Because they profited by its flaws, and he lost."

Eve nodded. It jelled for her. "You're aware now that the One twenty-eight is suspected of having a serious internal problem. The connection with organized crime. With Max Ricker."

"Yes, your report to me made that clear."

"I have to tell you, Dr. Mira, that it's been established that Detective Kohli was clean, and part of an IAB operation attempting to uncover this corruption."

"I see." Her clear eyes clouded. "I see."

"I don't know if the killer is aware of this as yet, but I doubt it. What will his reaction be when he learns Kohli was clean?"

Mira got to her feet. Her training and her position made it necessary for her to put herself into the mind of murderers. As she did so, she wandered to the wide band of windows and looked out on the gardens where a sea of candy-pink tulips danced. She saw beyond them to the sweeps of shape and color, very much as Monet had reflected them in oil.

There was nothing so comforting, she thought, as a well planted garden.

"He will disbelieve it initially. He's not a killer but a servant of justice. When he can't deny it, he'll turn to rage. It's his salvation. Once again, the system has betrayed him and tricked him into taking an innocent life. Someone will pay. Perhaps someone in Internal Affairs, where it began. Perhaps you, Eve," she said and turned back. "As you are the one who has, indirectly at least, shoved this horror into his face. He'll be doubly fueled now. For himself, and for Kohli. Very shortly after he learns, and accepts, he'll kill. He'll kill, Eve, until he's caught."

"How do I make him turn to me, specifically?"

Mira walked back, sat down. "Do you think I would help you with that, even if I could?"

"It's better to know his target than to guess."

"Yes, you'd think so," Mira said placidly. "Particularly if you can make yourself that target. But you can't direct his mind, Eve. His logic is his own. He's already selected his next victim. This information, when he learns of it, may alter his plans. He'll have to grieve, then he'll have to balance his scales."

Eve frowned. "He has a conscience."

"Yes, and Kohli will weigh on it. Kohli will cost him. But who he'll blame? That's the shading I can't give you."

"Why the hell doesn't he go after Ricker?"

"He may, but first he'll clean his own house."

"How do you protect and investigate every cop in a precinct?" Eve murmured. "And how do you manage it when they look at you as if you're the enemy?"

"Is that what's troubling you? Having your own step away from you?"

"No." She shrugged it off. "No, I can handle it."

"Then, since there's little to nothing more I can give you on this profile at the moment, I wish you would tell me what is troubling you."

"I have a lot on my mind." In dismissal, Eve got to her feet. "I appreciate you taking the time to come here. I know it's an inconvenience."

Eve wasn't the only stubborn woman in the room. "Sit down; I'm not finished."

A little surprised by the authoritarian tone, Eve sat. "You said-"

"I said to tell me what's troubling you. You're unhappy and distracted, and I suspect its cause is personal."

"If it's personal," Eve said coolly, "then it has no place in this consult."

"Have the nightmares increased? Are you having more flashbacks?"

"No. Damn it. This has nothing to do with my father, with my past, with any of that. It's my business."

"You need to understand something. I care very much about you."

"Dr. Mira-"

"Be quiet." And the command, in that warm, pleasant voice, brooked no argument. "I care, on a very personal level. However much it may discomfort you, Eve, I look on you as a kind of surrogate daughter. It's a pity that causes you embarrassment," she said mildly when that emotion ran over Eve's face. "You don't know my children, but I can promise you that they would tell you I am relentless when concerned about their happiness. While I will try not to interfere, I will know the cause."

Eve was dumbfounded, and she was chased by so many emotions they ran over themselves on their way to clog her throat. She had no mother, no memory of one. And no defense against the offer from the woman who watched her and seemed so determined to stand as one.

"I can't talk about it."

"Of course you can. If it's not your past, it's your present. If it's personal… it's Roarke. Have you had a disagreement?"

The term, so tame, so civilized, caused a reaction Eve never expected. She laughed, laughed until her sides ached and she realized to her utter shock the sound was coming perilously close to sobs. "I don't know what we had. He's not speaking to me, basically."

"Eve." Mira reached for her hand, clasped it. The gesture snapped the last lock.

It poured out of her, everything from the time she'd walked into the bedroom and seen Summerset staggering under the weight of the flowers.

"I went to see Mavis," Eve continued. "And got drunk. That sounds stupid, but-"

"On the contrary, it sounds perfectly sensible. You went to a trusted friend, one who knows both of you and is herself in a committed, monogamous, and loving relationship. Getting drunk was a release valve, but talking it over with her was an avenue."

"She said I should…" Eve couldn't quite bring herself to repeat Mavis's descriptive phrase. "Seduce him."

"Again, sensible. Sex opens doors to communication and relieves tension. It didn't work?"

"I didn't really get the chance to try it out. There was an individual, I can't give you the name, who has a connection with the case and an older one with me, who was waiting outside. I brought him up to my office to discuss the case, and… Jesus… I don't know what got into him. I guess you could say he made a move on me, which I was about to repel, with some violence, when Roarke…"

"Oh dear. I imagine he was seriously displeased."

Eve simply stared for a minute, stunned by the phrase. She was afraid to laugh again. Afraid she wouldn't stop. "You could say that. Words were exchanged, and then they went at each other. The worst is, for a minute, I just stood there with my mouth open. They're breaking furniture, and blood's flying and I stand there, stupid."

"Not for long, I take it."

"No, but still. Anyway, I drew my weapon."

"Good God, Eve."

"It was on stun." She made a defensive move with her shoulders. "I fired a warning, which Roarke ignored. Unfortunately for… for the other individual, he didn't and Roarke cold-cocked him. Summerset got the guy out, and I'm telling Roarke to calm his ass down or I'll stun him. I meant it."

"I'm sure you did."

"He didn't seem to care. He sort of backed me into a corner, and I couldn't seem to… Then he, hmmm, he…"

"Oh." Mira felt something flutter in her belly. "I see."

"No, no, he didn't punch me or anything."

"That's not what I thought. He… made love to you."

"No. That's not the way it was. He just took me over. I wasn't going to stand for it. I told myself I wouldn't, but I was… Damn it, I was aroused, and he knew it, and he was ripping my clothes and we were sort of struggling a little, then we were on the floor and I was ripping his clothes and we were on each other like animals or something. I couldn't stop him, or myself, or any of it, and I didn't want to because, God, I was so hot I'd have let him eat me alive."

"Oh my," Mira managed.

"I shouldn't have told you." Mortified, Eve squeezed her eyes shut. "What was I thinking?"

"No, no, sweetheart, that was a very unprofessional reaction, and I apologize. But it was a very female one." And she thought her husband was going to be quite delighted with the aftereffects of this heart-to-heart with Eve.

"I didn't just let him take me, I helped him. I enjoyed it." She looked down, miserably, at her empty hands. "That's got to be sick."

"Not enjoying what you just described to me might be. Enjoying it was completely healthy. Extremely healthy, if I might say so. Eve, you love each other. Passionate sex-"

"It went over the top of passionate."

"Please, my system can only handle so much." And now Mira laughed. "You and Roarke are two strong, stubborn, physical people who are wildly in love. He was angry with you for your attempt to protect him at your own risk. As you would be if he did the same."

"But-"

"You know that's true. As much as you know you'd do the same thing again, just as he would. You dented his ego, always a tricky proposition with a man, particularly a man like him. Then, before he could come to full terms with it, he walks in on you being hit on by another man."

"He had to know that I wouldn't have-"

"He did, of course. But he wouldn't stand for two slaps at his ego. Think a moment, and answer honestly. Would you really want him to stand for it?"

"I… maybe not," she admitted, grudgingly. Then she blew out a breath, surprised that she felt considerably better. "No, I wouldn't want him to stand for it."

"Of course not. And his reaction was, given who he is, physical. The fight reasserted his ego. Territoriality, Eve. This woman is mine."

"That's what he said," she muttered.

"Naturally enough. You are. Just as he's yours. Then you stand there, holding your weapon on him. Oh, what a sight that would have been. So he, metaphorically speaking, drew one of his own."

Eve's lips quivered. "Dr. Mira, I think that's crude."

"Nonetheless. Both of you reacted as natural for you, engaged in a bout of rough, sweaty sex that no doubt satisfied you."

"You'd have thought so, but we hadn't even cooled off when he picked me up off the floor and carried me into bed and did it all over again."

Mira stared, rather blankly. "Does he have a particular diet? Vitamins?"

Eve felt her grin spread and the muscles that had been tied all day loosen. "Thanks. And I don't even have to throw up like I did after drinking screamers and eating ice cream with Mavis."

"That's a plus. The man loves you with everything he has, everything he is. Eve, that means you can hurt him. Make the time, and go talk to your husband."

"I will."

"I have to get back to the office." Mira rose. "I plan to finish up early today, go home, and ravish my husband."

Amused, Eve watched Mira, dignity and grace, walk to the door. "Doctor?"

"Yes?"

"The, um, mother thing? That was weird. But nice."

"It's nice for me, too. Good-bye, Eve."

– =O=-***-=O=-

Recharged, Eve walked into her office and ordered Peabody and McNab to take a twenty-minute break. But when McNab made a beeline for the kitchen in her office, she headed him off.

"No, downstairs, upstairs, outside. Somewhere else. I want quiet. Stay out of the bedrooms," she added when she caught the gleam in his eye.

She settled down, contacting Feeney first. If and when she was called to The Tower, she wanted him along.

"Computer, run probability using all available data re Roth, Captain Eileen, as perpetrator in homicide cases in file."

Working…

Eve wandered the room while the computer crunched data and percentages. Recharged, yes, she thought. She was also restless, energized, ready to move.

She thought of Roth, desperately trying to blend her professional and personal lives. Failing at one, endangering the other.

"That's not going to happen to me."

Whatever it took, she thought, she was going to make it work. On both sides.

Requested analysis as follows… Using available data, probability Roth, Captain, committed homicides on file is sixty-seven point three percent.

Low, Eve thought, but not out of the running.

"Computer, recalibrate with additional data, for my eyes only. Captain Roth's recurrent alcohol addiction, failing marriage, and financial crisis. In addition, subject Roth was aware of victim's employment at Purgatory and had visited the scene in the weeks prior to the incident."

Working… Additional data increases probability by twelve point eight percent for a total percentage of eighty point one.

"Yeah, it makes a difference. That puts you on the short list, Captain. Who else have we got?"

Before she could move on, her 'link beeped. "Dallas."

"Martinez."

There was background noise, a great deal of it. Air and street traffic, Eve decided. Martinez wasn't calling from the squad room.

"You got anything for me?"

"I've got holes in the data files, holes that don't match my own records. I've backtracked, cross-referenced, but I can't pin down who did the shifting. Somebody sure as hell messed with the reports, just a little twist here and there."

"You get me a copy, I'll have a friend-a discreet friend-in EDD pin it down. He's a bloodhound. He'll smell it out."

"I don't want to send it through the system at Central."

"Home office." Eve rattled off the proper identification code.

"Got it. Hey, I thought you were going to pull the tag on me."

"I did."

"Well, if you did, I've picked up another one. And they're cops. I know a cop tag."

"Just go about your routine. Don't contact me on any departmental line."

"I know the drill, Lieutenant."

"Right. You need to talk to me, contact through my home or my personal 'link. Ready?" She reeled off the numbers. "Don't take any chances, don't be a hero. And don't trust anybody."

"I don't. Not even you."

"Fine," Eve murmured when the transmission ended. "Just so you keep breathing."

She turned away from the 'link. She scanned through Peabody's current runs and results and found an additional three potentials in the One twenty-eighth. Wanting a visual impression, she called up ID photos, stopped, smiled a little, and focused on one.

"Well, well, if it isn't our oinking detective. Vernon, Jeremy K. I don't like your face, Jerry. Let's have a closer look at you, and the hell with the flags."

She dug through his financials and saw nothing to ring alarms. She did a search and scan on connecting accounts, keying in variations of his name, trying for the numbers by using date of birth, address, his precinct, his badge number.

She was well into it when Peabody strolled back in. "Did you know you have paella? With honest-to-God shellfish? I've never had paella for lunch."

"Yum yum." Eve didn't bother to look up. "Use the other unit and copy the data on Detective Jeremy Vernon."

"You got something?"

"Yeah, I got me a nibble here. How many cops have numbered bank accounts in another city?" Now she did glance up, giving Peabody a speculative look.

"Not me. By the time I pay the first of the months, factor in transpo costs and food allowance, I'm lucky to have enough left over for new underwear, which I'm in desperate need of at the moment. Having a sex life is great, and a nice change, but you have to have decent drawers."

"Detectives make more than uniforms," Eve speculated, "but unless the pay scale's gone up since my day, this guy shouldn't be able to tuck away three hundred grand and change. But it's not enough. Dead relatives," she murmured. "Mills used dead relatives. Where the hell's McNab?"

"He was still stuffing his face. You also have strawberry shortcake. Don't make me go get him. I'm weak, and it looked really mag."

Eve turned to her 'link. She'd never used the house intercom, but now seemed like a good time to start. She flipped it to full open. "McNab! Get your bony ass up here. Now."

"It's not bony so much as tight," Peabody offered and earned a killing look from Eve.

"I've told you about that."

"Just saying," Peabody muttered. "Do you want me to start a search for ancestors?"

"Let McNab do it. He's faster than both of us."

And delegating, she thought, would give her time to balance those scales. She rose.

"I want him to do the run, then the two of you split the names. Look for current accounts. If the names crap out, go for numbers. DOBs, DODs, IDs, driver's license, and anything else that comes to you. All combinations. I'm taking an hour personal time."

She headed out as McNab rushed in. "Man, Dallas, it was like hearing the voice of God. You nearly scared me to death."

"You've got strawberry gunk on your lip. Clean up and get to work."

"Where's she going?" McNab demanded when Eve breezed out.

"An hour personal time."

"Dallas? Personal time? Maybe it was the voice of God and this is the end of the world."

That got a smirk out of Peabody, but she told herself she'd been too nice to him lately and refused to let the laugh loose. "She's entitled to a life like everybody else. And if you don't get that bony ass in gear, she's going to kick it to New Jersey when she gets back."

"I didn't get my coffee." But he wandered to the desk on his way to the kitchen. "What's she running?"

"This guy. She wants a financial search."

"Hey, I know him. Vernon."

"You do?"

"Yeah, yeah, I remember him. I got called on-scene, backup for an illegals bust, when I was in uniform. He's an asshole."

"Why's that? Wasn't he properly awed by the brilliance of your mind?"

He gave her a sour look. "He's a strutter. Preening around. Hitting on the LCs we hauled in during the bust. Made a big deal out of himself, and it was a penny-ante bust, too. Bunch of street hookers, couple of Johns, and a couple kilos of Exotica. Acted like he'd just taken down some major cartel, and he treated the uniforms like slaves. I heard one of the LCs yelled sexual harassment and he got called in on it. Took a knuckle rap."

"Nice guy."

"Yeah, a prince. Seems I heard a rumor that he liked to bust the hookers for Exotica because he could skim a couple ounces for personal use. Well, Jerry old pal, what goes around comes around."

He forgot the coffee, dramatically flexed his fingers, and got to work.