Seduction In Death

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

"No pops on the rings," Eve told her team.

She'd had to pull rank, step on toes, and bribe the scheduling clerk with a block of Swiss chocolate, but she'd managed to hook a conference room.

Roarke was good for the chocolate and would only smirk a little at the bribery angle.

"Best we've got is they're not heirlooms. The jewelers Peabody tapped agree that they're not antiques. If the stones and settings are genuine, the value's estimated at two hundred fifty k each."

"Any guy wears a quarter mil on his finger's a putz" was Feeney's opinion. "And a showoff."

"Agreed. Putz and showoff percentages are high. I want to take the search on them global, so I'm passing that ball to EDD." And she'd tap her own personal source on showoff items. Roarke might not wear baubles himself, but he was sure an expert at buying them and draping them all over her.

"Imaging's working with the waiter, but it's slow. He's a lot clearer on the rings than the guys wearing them. We can access security discs for the last week or two weeks from the Palace, but it'll take time to pick through them, and luck to home in on our men. I'll be doing that run personally, but meanwhile, if nothing jumps by morning, I'm going to request our witness agrees to hypnotherapy."

"There's no guarantee they weren't wearing enhancements when they met for drinks," McNab pointed out and earned a rare nod of approval from Eve.

"That's right, but we detail the image anyway. We keep building the box until we lock them inside. Progress on the rental unit?" She glanced at Feeney. "And don't crawl up my ass."

"Funny you should ask. We cleaned out most of the chatter. You wouldn't believe the shit people send through rentals. Porn sites win ten to one."

"It's so good to have my view of the general citizenship reinforced."

"After that you got your entertainment and amusement sites, then your financials. Personal e-mail comes after. Most promising user name is Wordsworth. All his transmissions are cloaked. You get through one layer of the cloak and the sucker bounces you to another locale. He shot the goods from the cyber-joint to Madrid. Start picking there and it bounces to Delta Colony. Then – "

"I get the picture. What did you find?"

Feeney sulked a little, crunched on nuts. "I uncloaked one transmission so far. Looks like he did three, maybe four more. The one I stripped down went to an account registered to Stefanie Finch. A lot of mushy stuff."

"Shoot the mushy stuff and her address to my units. You're a cyber-wizard, Feeney."

That soothed his ruffles. "Yeah, don't I know it. I gotta take a couple hour's medical, get a quick eye fix. Detective Cyber-Wiz here'll keep on it."

"I'm in the field. Peabody, with me. Peel off," she ordered as she strode out and toward a glide. "Snag me an energy bar or something, meet me in the garage in ten. I need to stop by my office first."

"There's vending right outside the bullpen."

"The vending machines around here hate me. They steal my credits and laugh in my face."

"You've had your vending privileges suspended again for kicking the equipment, haven't you?"

"I didn't kick it, I punched it. And just get me the damn bar." Without waiting for a response, Eve hopped the glide and flipped out her communicator to check in with the imaging tech.

Peabody merely sighed and backtracked to the closest food vender. She was perusing the choices, debating between energy or chemical sweetener for herself when McNab came up behind her.

Since their session the night before, she expected him to go for a little pinch or grab. But he dipped his hands into two of the twelve pockets in his butter yellow trousers and just stood there.

"You doing okay?" he asked her.

"Yeah, just ordering up a few boosts." Figuring Dallas could have them both in the field for hours yet, she went for energy and sweetener.

"I figure you're bent about what happened. You shouldn't be. Stuff like that doesn't mean anything."

Thinking of pizza, and the frantic bout of sex on her living room floor, the second, more thorough session in her bed, she felt her stomach tighten. "Right. Who said it meant anything?"

"I'm just saying you shouldn't be like, embarrassed or upset."

She turned to him, kept her face absolutely stone still. "Do I look embarrassed or upset to you?"

"Look, you don't want to talk about it, fine with me." His personal sense of outrage leaped up, snagged him by the throat. Charles had all but rubbed his new lady in Peabody's face, and she still couldn't see him for what he was. "Everybody knows it was never going anywhere. If you thought otherwise, then you deserve just what you get."

"Thanks for the bulletin. And you can just…" She searched for something, and settled on Eve's favored suggestion. "Bite me." Shoving him aside with her elbow, she marched to the nearest glide.

"Fine." He kicked the vending machine, storming off as it issued the standard warning. If she wanted to get twisted up over having her pet LC trot another woman out under her nose, why the hell should he care?

By the time Peabody made it to the garage she'd eaten her energy bar and started on the candy. And she was steaming. Already in the vehicle, Eve merely held out a hand. Then hissed when Peabody slapped the bar into her palm sharply enough to burn.

"I should have kicked his ass. Just mopped the floor with his skinny, bony ass."

"Christ." In defense, Eve shot out of her slot. "Don't start."

"I'm not starting, I'm finished. Pig bastard wants to stand there and tell me I shouldn't beembarrassed, shouldn't beupset because last night didn'tmean anything?"

I will not listen, I will not listen, I will not listen,Eve repeated over and over in her head. "Finch lives on Riverside Drive. Alone. Employed as shuttle pilot for Inter-Commuter Air."

"He's the one who came knocking onmy door with his pitiful pizza and big sloppy smile."

"She's twenty-four," Eve said desperately. "Single. Perfect fit for target profile of killer number one."

"And who's everyone? Who the hell is everyone?"

"Peabody, if I just agree that McNab is a pig bastard, that you should kick his ass, even give you my solemn word that I will help you kick the pig bastard's ass at the first reasonable opportunity, can we pretend we're focused on this investigation?"

"Yes, sir." Peabody sniffed. "But I'd appreciate it if you would not speak the pig bastard's name in my presence ever again."

"That's a deal. We're going to Finch's. Once I get a sense of her, we'll see if she can stand up as bait or needs to be removed to protective custody. Next on the list is McNamara. We pin him down today, on or off planet. If McNab… the pig bastard," she corrected when Peabody's head snapped around, "manages to uncloak any more target accounts, we move on them immediately. The civilian targets are priority."

"Understood, sir."

"Check in with the officer on duty at the hospital. We're more likely to get word from our own first on any change in the victim's condition than we are from medical staff."

"Yes, sir. Can I say one more thing about the pig bastard? Absolutely the last thing I have to say on the subject."

"The last thing? Well then, I can't wait to hear it."

"I hope his balls shrivel up like over-baked prunes then fall off in useless husks."

"A very pleasant final image. I applaud you. Now tag the guard."

Shuttle pilots, Eve decided, pulled in a fine, fat per annum. The apartment building was swank and silver, a shining spear ringed by glides that allowed residents and guests private exterior access if they were cleared.

As she'd already had her height quota for the next little while, Eve chose the interior access. The electronic greeting station requested her business, her name, and destination in a pleasant and no-nonsense tone.

"Police business. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, and aide to see Stefanie Finch." She held her badge up to the security screen, listened to the faint hum as it was scanned and verified.

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant Dallas, Ms. Finch is not in residence at this time. You may leave a message for her by requesting visitor voice mail."

"When is she expected back?"

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant Dallas, I am not authorized to give that information without a warrant."

"I bet Roarke owns this place," Peabody commented as she gazed around the spacious black-and-silver lobby. "It's his style. I bet if you told it you're his wife – "

"No." It irritated her just to think about it. "I want to see the resident or residents in apartment 3026."

"Next-door neighbor. Good thinking."

"One moment, Lieutenant Dallas. Mrs. Hargrove is in residence. I'll submit your request for visitation."

"Yeah, you do that. How do people stand being closed up in these places?" Eve wondered. "Like little ants in a hive."

"I think it's bees in a hive. Ants are – "

"Shut up, Peabody."

"Yes, sir."

"Mrs. Hargrove will allow visitation, Lieutenant Dallas and aide. Please use elevator bank five. Enjoy your visit, and the rest of your day."

Alicanne Hargrove turned out to be not only willing but thrilled at the visit.

"Police." She all but pulled Eve into her apartment. "So exciting. Has there been a robbery?"

"No, ma'am. I'd like to speak to you regarding Stefanie Finch."

"Stef?" The animation on Alicanne's pretty face faded. "Oh my goodness. She's all right, isn't she? She just left this morning for a shuttle run."

"As far as I know she's fine. You and Ms. Finch are friendly?"

"Yes, very. Oh, I'm sorry, sit down."

She gestured to the painfully modern living area with its trio of gel-sofas. To Eve, they looked big enough, squishy enough to swallow any number of household pets. "Thanks, but this won't take long. Can you tell me if you know if Ms. Finch is seeing anyone socially?"

"Men? Stef sees a lot of men. She's a dynamo."

"Anyone named Wordsworth?"

"Oh, the poet. She's been having a romance with him through e-mail. I think they're scheduled to meet when she gets back from her shuttle run. Day after tomorrow. She'll be based in London until then. It seems to me she said they'd made a tentative date for next week. Drinks at the Top of New York. But the way Stef juggles men, I can't be sure."

"If she gets in touch, or comes back before schedule, ask her to contact me. It's urgent. Card, Peabody."

Peabody dug out one of Eve's cards, passed it over.

"Can I tell her what it's about?"

"Just tell her to contact me. Right away. Thanks for your time."

"Oh, but wouldn't you like some coffee, or – " She trotted hopefully after them as Eve strode out.

"Track her down, Peabody." Her own communicator beeped. "Dallas."

"Lieutenant." Trueheart's earnest face filled the tiny screen. "I think something's going on. Three medical staff just went into the subject's room, including Dr. Michaels, and he came on the run."

"Stand by, Trueheart. I'm on my way."

Since the floor nurse all but threw herself in front of the ICU doors, Eve gave her sixty seconds to produce Dr. Michaels. He whisked out with a swirl of his long white coat and an annoyed expression.

"Lieutenant, this is a hospital, not a police station."

"You can consider it both as long as Moniqua Cline is your patient. What's her status?"

"She's conscious, very disoriented. Her vital signs show improvement, but are still in the dangerous range. She's far from out of the woods."

"I need to question her. Hers isn't the only life at stake."

"Hers is the life under my care."

Because one hard case recognized another, Eve nodded. "Don't you think she'd rest easier knowing the person who did this to her has been put away? Look, I'm not going to interrogate her. I'm not going to browbeat her. I understand the pathology of the victim."

"I appreciate the import of your investigation, Lieutenant, but this woman isn't a tool."

Eve kept her voice steady. "She's not just a tool to me. But to the man who put her here, she's less than that. She's a game piece. Bryna Bankhead and Grace Lutz didn't have a chance to tell anyone what happened to them."

Whatever he saw in her face had him pushing open the door. "Just you," he said. "And I'm staying with her."

"That works for me. Peabody, stand by."

A nurse monitored the machines and spoke in a soothing voice. Though Moniqua didn't respond, Eve thought she heard something. Her eyes traveled back and forth as if measuring the glass box of the room. They flicked over Eve, passed on, then lingered on Michaels's face.

"I'm so tired" was all she said, and her voice fluttered, soft as bird wings.

"You need to rest." He stepped to the bed and covered her hand with his.

In that gesture, Eve's confidence in him solidified. Moniqua wasn't just a patient to him. She was a person.

"This is Lieutenant Dallas. She needs to ask you some questions."

"I don't know…"

"I'm going to stay right here."

"Ms. Cline." Eve took the other side of the bed so that Moniqua lay between her and the doctor. "I know you're confused, and you're tired, but anything you can tell me will help."

"I don't remember."

"You corresponded, through e-mail, with an individual you knew as Byron."

"Yes. We met in a chat. Nineteenth-century poets."

"You agreed to meet him last night, for drinks at the Royal Bar in The Palace Hotel."

Her brow, pale as marble, creased. "Yes. At… nine-thirty. Was that last night? We'd been talking online for weeks, and… I met him. I remember."

"What else do you remember?"

"I – I was a little nervous at first. We'd hit it off so well in cyber, but real life's different. Still, it was just drinks, and in such a lovely setting. If it didn't work out, what was the harm? But it did. He was just as I expected… Did I have an accident? Am I dying?"

"You're doing very well," Michaels told her. "You're very strong."

"You had drinks with him," Eve continued, drawing her attention away from Michaels again. "What did you talk about?"

Moniqua's face went vague again. "Talk about?"

"With Byron. When you had drinks with him last night."

"Oh, ah, poetry. And art. Travel. We both like to travel, though he's been so many more places than I have. We had champagne, and caviar. I've never had caviar before. I don't think it agreed with me. I must have gotten ill."

"Were you ill at the hotel?"

"No. I – no, I don't think… I must have had too much to drink. I'm usually careful not to have more than one glass. I remember, I remember now. Feeling very strange, but good. Happy. He was so perfect, so attractive. I kissed him. Kept kissing him. I wanted to get a room in the hotel. That's not like me." Her fingers pulled weakly at the sheet. "I must've had too much to drink."

"You suggested getting a room in the hotel?"

"Yes. He laughed. It wasn't a pleasant laugh, but I was so drunk, I didn't care. Why did I drink so much? And he said… Take me home with you, and we'll do things the poets write of."

She closed her eyes. "Corny. But it didn't seem corny then. He told me to pay the check. I wasn't offended or surprised that he meant for me to pay, even though he'd made the date. I went in to freshen up, and all I could think was I was going to have amazing sex with this perfect man. And I could hardly wait to get my hands on him. We took a cab. I paid for that, too. And in the cab…"

The faintest color washed into her cheeks. "I think I must've dreamed all this. I must have dreamed it. He whispered a suggestion in my ear. What he wanted me to do." She opened her eyes again. "I went down on him, in the cab. I couldn't wait to. It wasn't a dream, was it?"

"No, it wasn't a dream."

"What did he give me?" She groped for Eve's hand, her fingers trying to squeeze, but only twitching. "What was in those drinks?"

Her hand moved, restlessly. Eve covered it. Gripped it. "I wasn't drunk, was I? It was like being hypnotized."

"You weren't drunk, Moniqua, and you're not responsible for anything you did. He drugged you. Tell me what happened when you got to your apartment."

"She needs to rest now." Michaels glanced at the monitors, back at Eve. "She's talked long enough. You have to leave."

"No." Moniqua's fingers moved in Eve's hand. "He gave me something that made me do those things to him, with him, made me let him do those things to me? He nearly killed me, didn't he?"

"Very nearly," Eve agreed. "But you're a hell of a lot stronger than he anticipated. Help me catch him. Tell me what happened in your apartment."

"It's hazy. I was dizzy, queasy. He put on music, lit candles. He had candles in his bag, and another bottle of champagne. I didn't want anymore, but he wanted me to drink. I did exactly what he asked me to do. Every time he touched me, I wanted him to touch me again. He said it needed to be perfect. That he was going to prepare… set the stage. I should wait. I felt sick. I didn't want to tell him I felt sick because he might not stay. So when he went into the bedroom, I went into the bath and was sick. After, I felt a little better. Steadier. I went into the bedroom. He had champagne by the bed, and dozens of candles lighted. There were rose petals all over the bed. Pink roses, like the ones he must have sent me at work a few days before. I'd never had anyone go to such trouble."

Tears spilled down her cheeks. "It was so lovely, almost painfully romantic. I actually loved him, in that instant when I walked in and saw him, I was wildly, recklessly in love with him. He undressed me, said I was beautiful. It was all very gentle at first, very sweet and intimate. A fantasy, really. After a while, he handed me the glass. I told him I didn't want more champagne, but he just looked at me, told me to drink it and I did. Then it wasn't gentle. It was outrageous. Like going mad. Like becoming an animal. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Burning from the inside out, and my heart beating so fast it felt like it would explode. He was watching me. I can see his eyes now, watching me. He told me to say his name. But it wasn't his name."

"What name was it?"

"Kevin. He told me his name was Kevin. Then it was as if things inside me, my head, my body, ripped. And everything stopped. I couldn't move or see or hear. Buried alive." Now she wept. "He buried me alive."

"No, he didn't." Eve leaned over before Michaels could move in. "You're here and safe and alive. He's never going to touch you again. Moniqua, he's never going to touch you again."

She turned her face weakly to the pillow as the tears flowed. "I let him inside me."

"No, you didn't. He violated you. He forced you."

"No, I let – "

"He forced you," Eve repeated. "Look at me. Listen to me. He took your choice away, and he raped you. His weapon was a drug instead of a knife or his fists, but it was still a weapon. Putting rose petals on the bed doesn't make what he did any less criminal. But you beat him. And I'm going to put him away for you. I know someone you can talk to, who'll help you through this."

"I never told him to stop. I didn't want him to."

"You're not responsible. This wasn't about sex. Rape never is. This was about him controlling you. You couldn't stop him last night, but you can now. Don't let him control you now."

"He raped me, and then he left me to die. I want him to pay for making me feel like this."

"Leave that part to me."

Eve felt slightly ill when she stepped out again. It was brutal, always brutal, for her to interview rape victims. To look at them and see herself.

She took a moment, bracing a hand against the outer doors, waiting to settle again.

"Lieutenant?"

She straightened, turned to Michaels.

"You did very well with her. I'd expected you to push for more detail."

"I will, next time. I've got to dig out my rubber hose. Can't recall where I left it."

He offered a slow, half smile. "I didn't expect her to live. Medically, her chances were slim to none. But that's one of the rewards of my profession. The small miracles. She still has a rough road ahead, physically and emotionally."

"You can contact Dr. Charlotte Mira."

Impressed, he angled his head. "Dr. Mira?"

"If she can't treat Moniqua personally, she'll give the case to the best rape therapist available. You guys work on giving her back her physical and emotional health. I'll work on giving her justice."

She pushed through the doors, signalled to Peabody, and kept going. She wanted out of the hospital almost as much as she wanted to breathe.

"Sir." Peabody jogged to keep pace. "Everything all right?"

"She's alive, she's talking, and she's given us the bastard's first name. Kevin."

"Solid. But I was talking about you. You look a little whipped."

"I'm fine. I just hate fucking hospitals," she muttered. "Maintain the guard on Moniqua, and the checks on her condition. Make a note to contact Mira and ask her to consult with Michaels over her therapy."

"I didn't think Mira took private consults."

"Just make a note of it, Peabody." She kept her breathing shallow until she shoved through the hospital doors and strode outside. "Christ! How do people stand being in those places? I've got a personal call to make. Step aside, will you? Call Moniqua's status into the commander and tell him my report will be forthcoming."

"Yes, sir. There's some benches just over there. Why don't you make that call sitting down?"Because you're white as a sheet, she wanted to say. But knew better.

Eve walked over to sit in a little area of green the city planners liked to call micro-parks. The trio of dwarf trees and scatter of flowers were jammed into a narrow island between parking lots. But she supposed it was the thought that counted.

Still, she wished they'd thought to plant something with fragrance. She wanted the stench of hospital out of her system.

She wasn't sure where to tag Roarke. She tried his personal line first, was switched to voice mail so she disconnected. She put the next through to his midtown offices and hit on his admin.

"I need to locate him."

"Of course, Lieutenant. He's on a holo-transmission, if you wouldn't mind waiting a moment. How are you?"

Right, Eve thought. Courtesy and conversation, a duo she often neglected. "Fine, thanks. How are you, Caro?"

"Very well. Delighted the boss is back, though it seems we're busier yet when he's in the cockpit. I'll just beep in and let him know you're on the line."

Waiting, Eve tipped her face back to the sun. It was always cold in hospitals, she thought. The kind of cold that crept into her bones.

"Lieutenant." She focused her attention on Roarke's voice, on his face on-screen. "What's wrong?" he queried.

"Nothing. Need a favor."

"Eve. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Really. Moniqua Cline regained consciousness. I just finished questioning her. She's going to tough this out, but it's hard on her."

"And on you."

"I know some of what's going through her head. I know some of what she's going to feel in the middle of the night." She shook it off. "That's not why I called, and you're in the middle of a transmission."

"It can wait. A benefit of being in charge. What can I do for you?"

"Question. Is it possible for you to monitor a standard account, monitor any e-mail, block same?"

"Private citizens who attempt any of the above are in violation of e-privacy laws and subject to fines and/or imprisonment."

"Which means you can."

"Oh. I assumed the question was rhetorical." He smiled at her. "Who do you want me to monitor?"

"Stefanie Finch. She's a potential target. At the moment she's in the air somewhere between the U.S. and England on shuttle runs. When she lands, I want to tell her who and what she's been playing with in hopes I can enlist her help to reel these guys in. But I don't know how she'll react, and she's going to have too much time to fiddle around before I have her under control. I can't chance her going off on a rip and tipping her cyber-pal."

"So you want to block all her transmissions and cyber-activities?"

"That's the ticket. I don't want anything she sends getting through until I'm sure of her cooperation and I have a warrant to put a filter on her transmissions. The warrant's not going to cover us until she's back in New York."

"You know how it excites me whenever you ask me to slip through one of the loops in the law."

"Remind me later why I married a pervert."

"I'll be happy to." His smile spread because color had come back into her face.

"How soon can you have it done?"

"I have some things to finish up here. Best to do this little task at home on the unregistered. Give me two hours. Oh, Lieutenant? I don't suppose this bit of business goes into my report as expert consultant, civilian."

"Kiss ass."

"As long as it's yours, darling."