Promises in Death

by J. D. Robb

  “Alex Ricker doesn’t have his father’s brains. He’s just been coattailing. No offense, but somebody was going to nail him sooner or later.”

  “Maybe. His problem was getting stuck on the woman. Not enough to make him change his ways, but enough to mess him up. Guy’s got a soft streak in there, sentimental, I guess. Men.” She shook her head. “They think they’re stronger, tougher than women. We know better. The coldest killers I’ve known have been female.

  “But back to blood. I’m curious. Were you a cold, murderous bitch before you knew you had Ricker’s blood, or did you turn into one after? Don’t answer yet,” Eve continued as Grady rose slowly. “Let’s deal with the formalities. Cleo Grady, you’re under arrest for the murder of Amaryllis Coltraine, the murder of Rod Sandy. Other charges include—”

  Even as Cleo reached for her weapon, Eve reached for hers. They drew together.

  “I’d love to do it,” Eve said. “I’d feel joy in my heart watching you drop. But maybe you’ll drop me. Maybe. Then my partner, who’s got her weapon at your back will drop you. You’re not walking out of this room, Grady. Lower your weapon, or you’ll get a taste of what you gave Coltraine.”

  “Mine’s on full. You go down, you won’t get up.”

  “Maybe. My partner’s still going to drop you. Put down your weapon.”

  “The fuck I will. You move away from—”

  Eve fired. Her weapon was on its lowest setting and did no more than jolt Cleo, sent her stumbling back as her own weapon clattered to the floor. “That felt good. Small of me, but damn, that felt good. Got her weapon secured, Peabody?”

  “Yes, sir, I do. And it felt good over here, too.”

  “Hands behind your back, Cleo.” Eve secured her own weapon, took out her restraints. “Oh, and please make a try for the door,” she invited, “so I have an excuse to kick your ass.”

  “Easy to say when you and your partner have weapons on me.”

  “Yeah, it is.” Eve grinned. “Want me to say it again?”

  “You can’t make this stick. None of it’s going to stick.”

  “Bet?” She shoved Cleo into the chair, looped the restraints through the back rungs and chained her to it as she completed the Revised Miranda.

  No blood on my hands, Eve thought. “I guess Mira was right,” she muttered, then shook her head at Peabody’s questioning look. “Nothing. I know you’re Max Ricker’s daughter,” she said to Cleo. “I know you recruited Rod Sandy to pass data re Alex Ricker to Max Ricker. I know you’ve been in communication with your father since his incarceration on Omega, and that you communicated with him the night of Coltraine’s murder.”

  “You can get me a slap on the wrist for that, you can cost me my job. But you can’t pin murder on me.”

  “Oh, I will. You went looking for him, didn’t you? Went looking for Daddy.”

  “What if I did? No crime.”

  “Hoping for his love and affection. Maybe a puppy. Pathetic.”

  Insult had Cleo yanking against the restraints. “I know about you, how you were raised by the State. You don’t even know where you came from. That’s pathetic.”

  “I know where I landed.” Eve brought a chair around, straddled it. “Max Ricker sent you to college, paid your freight.”

  “So what? No crime.”

  “But it wasn’t free. No free lunch from Max. Not for anyone. But then, it had to be a pleasure for you to find a way to stick it to your brother.”

  “Half.”

  “The half that got all the attention, all the bennies all those years. The son. Men are so freaking high on having sons.”

  “Depends on the son.”

  “Rod Sandy was easy to mold. He was so jealous of Alex. You just had to plant the seeds, show him the opportunity and the rewards.”

  “Can’t prove it because, oh yeah, that’s right. He’s dead.”

  “Got your stiletto, Cleo.”

  “I’m a collector. I’m licensed.” She yawned deliberately. “I’d lawyer but this is too entertaining.”

  “We’ve accessed your bank box. We have Coltraine’s ring. That was stupid. A cop taking a trophy that can tie her to a murder.”

  Cleo merely jerked a shoulder and looked bored. “She lent it to me, a couple of days before she died. I put it in there out of respect.”

  “Yeah, that’ll fly. You think it’ll fly, Peabody?”

  “Not even in a world where pink fairies sing and dance.” Shaking her head, Peabody boosted up to sit on the conference table. “I bet Max told her to get rid of it, along with everything else. But it’s a really pretty ring.” She smiled at Cleo. “I guess you just wanted it.”

  “She lent it to me. You can’t prove otherwise.”

  “You think Max is going to fix all this for you?” Eve allowed a quick chuckle to rise through the question. “That he has the power, the means, the connections to fix this? Maybe he does. But he’d have to care. He doesn’t.”

  Cleo pulled against the restraints again, and in her eyes Eve recognized the desire for blood. “You don’t know shit.”

  “I know he used you. You used each other to get what you wanted. To hurt Alex. And if Coltraine had to die to really screw with him, she meant nothing. Means to an end. How many other times have you killed for him?”

  “You tell me. You’ve got circumstantial, you’ve got speculation. Bitch, you’ve got nothing.”

  “I’ve got plenty.” Eve rose. “He loves nothing, Cleo, puts nothing over himself. You were interesting, and useful to him for a time. But your value to him just bottomed out. He’ll cut you out like a tumor.”

  “You’ve got nothing,” Cleo said between her teeth. “You know nothing.”

  “Okay. Why not get it right from the source.” She signaled Roarke. “You can watch on-screen, Cleo. I’ll say hi to your father for you.”

  It was strange to be in the conference room, to know she remained there, yet see her image form on the wall screen. To know she remained in place, and to look around and see the cold concrete cage. To see the man on the thin, narrow cot inside the unadorned gray box.

  He hadn’t weathered prison well, she noted. His hair was going, his body had begun to sag, his skin to sallow. But his eyes, she thought, they were as vital and vicious as ever.

  “Hello, Max.”

  He sat up slowly. She saw the tremors—shock, excitement, fear? She couldn’t be sure. “Lieutenant Dallas.” His teeth showed in a ferocious smile as he sprang.

  He passed through the holographic image, and scraped his hands on the wall when he threw them up to stop his forward motion.

  “Yeah, nice to see you again, too. Why don’t you sit down? We’ll chat.”

  He came back, stood so their faces nearly touched. Though she knew better, she almost felt his breath on her skin. “I’m under no obligation to speak to you. Your holo-presence is interfering with my rights.”

  “I think you’re going to want to talk to me. Regarding rights, let’s refresh your Miranda.” Once she had, she smiled. “Gotcha again, Max. Conspiracy to murder a police officer. We know you ordered the hit on Coltraine. We’ve got a lock on it. Chapter and verse. I wanted to be the one to tell you about it, to let you know, personally, you’ll be charged and convicted, and given another life sentence.”

  He did sit, laid his hands on his knees. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But if I did, do you think it matters to me? Bitch is dead, isn’t she?”

  “We got Rouche, so he won’t be at your beck. Added to it, now that the warden’s aware of your activities, you’ll be cut off. No more chatting with friends and family on-planet, Max.”

  His face tightened. “There’s always someone willing to deal. Always someone. One day, they’ll add another life sentence on for your murder. I’m giving that a lot of thought. A great deal of thought.”

  “Sandy won’t be able to help you with that. He’s dead.”

  She watched anger ripple over his face before it went tight and cold
. “A pity. But there’s always another Sandy.”

  “Your son’s on to you. Lost your whipping boy there, Max.”

  “My son’s useless. Couldn’t even keep the woman in line, could he? Had a cop in his bed but wouldn’t put her in his pocket.” A smile, thin and sly, slid onto his lips. “He was happy to help kill when I suggested it, when I arranged it.”

  “Please. Alex is nothing but a disappointment to you because he wouldn’t do things just your way. He didn’t kill Coltraine. I’ve got your girl, Max.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He turned away now, shifting his body like a sulking child. “I’ve had enough of you.”

  “Cleo’s in custody. Two murder counts. She didn’t check in with you before she killed Sandy. Bad girl. She screwed it up, Max, and now you have to pay. It’s her fault this didn’t work out for you.”

  All sympathy and reason, she leaned back against the wall when he shifted toward her again. “You really batted zero in the progeny department. But maybe, seeing as you’re already completely fucked, you want to help her out. Take the full rap, give her something for her defense. You forced her, you blackmailed her, you brainwashed her, threatened her. You might be able to convince me to go for a lesser charge. Hell, she’s a cop. I’ll deal. I could maybe get her twenty instead of life. She’s your blood, after all.”

  “She’s nothing. Never was, never will be. Less than nothing. Cleo’s gotten all she’ll get from me, and that’s more than she deserved. Coltraine’s on her. I’m an old man, in prison,” he added with a sneer. “I have no control over what some bitch does on-planet. You won’t prove otherwise.”

  “The bitch is your daughter, Max.”

  “She’s nothing, and she’ll get nothing from me. She hated Alex—hated him because he was my son, my heir. Obviously she killed the cop whore to get back at him, and that’s nothing to me.”

  “A minute ago you tried to tell me Alex did the murder.”

  “Alex doesn’t have the balls. At least Cleo knows how to go after what she wants, whatever it takes. But she doesn’t have Alex’s brains. Between them, they barely make up one useful person.”

  “Do you have knowledge that Cleo Grady murdered Detective Coltraine.”

  He smiled again. “She wanted to do it two years ago when the cop lived with Alex in Atlanta. I advised against, so this is nothing to me. She’s nothing to me. Lock her away. Stupid bitch. Stupid bitch.” He pounded his fist on the bunk. “Stupid bitch,” he repeated again and again.

  “End holo,” Eve ordered, and heard the bitter refrain echo in her ears as she stared at Cleo. “Daddy’s in a very bad mood,” Eve commented.

  There were tears, Eve noted, just the faintest glimmer of them behind the fury in Cleo’s eyes. “He’s a liar.”

  “Oh yeah, but not about this. We’ve got him, Cleo. We’ve got you. And unless you’re a complete fool you know he won’t lift a finger to help you out.”

  “I want a deal.”

  “You won’t get one.” Eve sat again, made sure Cleo could read the solid truth of it on her face. “Murder in the First for Coltraine. We’ve got you wrapped on it. Your connection to Ricker will help put it over.”

  “I want a fucking deal.”

  “You’re not going to fucking get one! Not for Coltraine. Not as long as I’m breathing. You wanted to please your father and hurt your brother so you murdered an innocent woman. A fellow officer, a squadmate. You’re going to pay with the rest of your life for that. And for Sandy. He doesn’t mean the same to me, that’s a fact, but that’s the job. You’re going to pay for him, too.”

  “Then we’ve got nothing to say.”

  “Up to you. Let’s book her, Peabody, two counts of Murder in the First.”

  “Give me something, goddamn it.”

  “You want something, Detective? You want some sort of consideration from me? The fact that you’re conscious and not bleeding’s all the consideration you’re going to get.”

  “I know Max’s contacts, the ones you missed. I know where he has accounts, accounts that hold enough to keep paying those contacts.”

  “I don’t care. A good cop is dead, so believe me, I don’t care about your pitiful trade. You’ve got nothing I want half as much as I want you living out your life in a cage.”

  Eve paused a moment as if considering. “But I’ll give you the chance for retribution on Max Ricker. I’ll give you the chance to drop the hammer on him.”

  She watched the interest, and the rage kindle. And played on it. “He says it doesn’t matter, but you know better. Another life sentence, no more holes to slither through to push buttons down here. Strip him of whatever power he has left. I’ll give you a shot at that, right here and now. I walk out, and you lose even that. Pay him back, Cleo. Pay him back for tossing you out like garbage.”

  “It was his idea. Coltraine. He wanted her dead, so he set it up. She’s not the only one.”

  Eve came back to sit. “Let’s start with her.”

  “He’s still got some pull, and some connections in Atlanta. He used them when she started talking transfer, to clear the way to New York, to my squad. If she didn’t bite, I’d have transferred to wherever she went. But she made it easy.”

  “He targeted her because of Alex?”

  “He and Alex had words, before Max went down and right after. Yeah, he thought about payback there for a long time—hell, he promised Alex he’d pay. Coltraine was the payment.”

  “You contacted her that night.”

  “Max set it up. Had Sandy persuade Alex they needed to come to New York for a while, deal with some business here. Sandy knew Alex had some regrets about Coltraine, and he played on them—nudged him into contacting her, asking her over. After that, it was easy. Sandy talked Alex into going out, taking a walk. I tagged her, told her I had a solid on the Chinatown case, needed her to come. Max told me how he wanted it to go down, and I did exactly what he wanted.”

  “You waited for her in the stairway.”

  “Just a stun there. Max wanted it done a certain way, so it was done a certain way. I carried her down to the basement, brought her back so I could give her Max’s message. ‘Alex is killing you, bitch. Alex is taking your own goddamn weapon and pressing it to your throat. Feel it? You don’t walk away from a Ricker and live.’ He wanted her to die thinking Alex ordered the hit. If Alex went down for it, so much the better. Either way, it was payback. And the kicker was it would happen on your turf. A little needle in your arm.

  “He thinks about you a lot.”

  “So will you,” Eve said.

  EPILOGUE

  WHEN it WAS DONE, WHEN EVE Felt As MUCH DISGUST As satisfaction, she ordered the uniforms to take Cleo to booking.

  “Do you want to walk it through?” Peabody asked her.

  “No, I really don’t.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Peabody offered. “It leaves you a little bit raw. She killed over a dozen people for him. Just because he said to.”

  “No, not just because. That’s only part of it. The rest? It’s just in her. God knows why.”

  “I’ll write it up. I’d like to,” she added before Eve could speak. “For Coltraine.”

  “Okay.”

  Alone, Eve simply sat down in the conference room. Too many things churning, she realized. Too many thoughts buzzing.

  Morris came in quietly, sat across from her. “Thank you.”

  For reasons Eve couldn’t name she braced her elbows on the table and pressed her fingers to eyes that stung.

  “You feel some sympathy for her.”

  “I don’t know what I feel,” she managed.

  “Some small seed of sympathy for a woman whose father could have such contempt for her. I saw her face when he spoke to you about her. His words cut her to pieces. I was glad of it, and still I felt it, too. That small seed of sympathy.”

  Eve dropped her hands. “She deserved it. All of it. More of it.”

  “Yes. And still. T
hat’s what makes us different than she is, Eve. We can feel that, even though. I’m leaving tonight for Atlanta. I’d like to tell her family her killer—her killers—have been brought to justice. I’d like to do that myself.”

  “Yeah, okay. Sure. Are you . . .” She was nearly afraid to ask. “Are you coming back?”