Imitation in Death

by J. D. Robb

  “Such flattery. Then it appears we’re going to work.”

  “Yeah, I—Shit.” Her pocket ’link beeped. “I’ve got it,” she said, leaping up to scramble to the platform where the bed stood and grab her trousers from off of the floor.

  She dragged it out of a pocket, flipped it on. “Dallas.”

  “Lieutenant.” Sela Cox’s tear-streaked face filled the screen and had Eve’s heart dropping to her knees.

  “Mrs. Cox.”

  “She’s awake.” The tears kept falling even as she smiled. Brilliantly. “The doctor’s with her now, but I thought I should tell you as soon as I could.”

  “I’m on my way.” She started to click off, stopped herself. “Mrs. Cox. Thank you.”

  “I’ll be waiting for you.”

  “I just got a miracle,” Eve told Roarke and dragged on her trousers. Then she found she had to sit, just give into weak legs for one moment. “I saw her face. In my dream tonight. Hers, and the others, my own. I saw her face, and I thought she was dead. That I’d been too late for her, and she was dead. I was wrong.”

  She took a deep breath as Roarke came over to join her. “I saw him, too. My father, standing on the other side of the hospital bed. He said it never ended anyway. There’s always another victim and I might as well give up before I was dead, too.”

  “And he was wrong.”

  “You’re damn right.” She pushed to her feet. “I’m not tagging Peabody. I want her fresh for the exam. Want to stand in?”

  “Lieutenant, I already am.”

  Chapter 21

  She strode down the hospital corridor. She’d hooked her badge on her belt to stop any medicals from getting in her way. Roarke wanted to tell her the fire in her eyes would have done the job, but he was afraid it might dim that fierce light.

  And he enjoyed seeing it too much to take the chance.

  The guard she’d placed at the door to ICU was at attention when she turned the corner. In Roarke’s opinion, the uniform had likely scented her energy and whipped himself on alert.

  Even as she reached for the door, it swung open. The doctor, Roarke thought, was a more courageous soul. He barred her path, folding his arms across his chest and using a frown as a shield.

  “I was told you’d been notified and were en route. The patient is barely conscious and drifting in and out. Her condition is still critical. I won’t risk having her interrogated at this point.”

  “Twenty-four hours ago, you told me she’d never regain consciousness. She has.”

  “Frankly, I consider it a miracle she’s come out of a coma, even briefly.”

  Sela Cox had asked for another miracle, Eve thought. And by God, she’d gotten it. “I don’t believe in wasting miracles. Somebody put her in that room, and there’s a chance she can tell me who before he puts someone else in the hospital. Or the goddamn morgue.” Now her voice lashed like a whip that had the uniform wincing. “You don’t want to get in my face on this.”

  “On the contrary.” Laurence kept his melodious voice low. “I am in your face on this, and this is my turf. My patient’s welfare is paramount.”

  “On that last point, we’re in perfect agreement. I want her alive and well.”

  “For her testimony.”

  “Goddamn right. If you think that makes me the enemy, then you’re just stupid. I put her in the dead column, Laurence, just like you. But she showed us both what she’s made of. Now, I want her to know the man who did this to her has been put away. I want her to know I’m going to do that for her, and that she had a part in making it happen. Right now, she’s just a victim. I’m going to help make her a hero. That’s something to live for. You’ve got two choices,” she said before he could speak again. “I have this officer restrain you, or you go in with me and supervise.”

  “I don’t like your tactics, Lieutenant.”

  “File a complaint.” She pushed open the door, glanced at Roarke over her shoulder. “I need you to wait.”

  When she stepped in her heart sank again. Marlene lay still and deathly pale in the bed. Her mother stood beside her, holding her hand.

  “She’s just resting,” Sela said quickly. “When you said you’d come, I asked my husband to go down to the chapel. They’ll only let two of us in here at a time.”

  “Mrs. Cox, I must tell you again, Lieutenant Dallas’s presence is against medical orders. Your daughter needs to remain calm and quiet.”

  “She’s been quiet since this was done to her, and she won’t be calm until he’s caught and punished. I’m grateful to you, Doctor, more than I can begin to say. But Marley needs to do this. I know my child.”

  “Watch your step,” Laurence warned Eve, “or you’ll be the one restrained.”

  She kept her focus on Marlene as she moved to the side of the bed. “You should talk to her, Mrs. Cox. I don’t want to scare her.”

  “I’ve told her you were coming.” Sela leaned over the bed, touched her lips to her daughter’s forehead. “Marley? Marley baby, wake up now. Lieutenant Dallas is here to talk to you.”

  “So tired, Mom.” The words were slurred and soft.

  “I know, baby. Just for a little while. The lieutenant needs your help.”

  “I know you’ve been through a lot.” Eve ignored the doctor as he edged closer. “I know this is hard. I’m not going to let him get away with what he did to you. We’re not going to let him get away with it, Marley. You and me. You got away from him. You stopped him once. You can help me stop him once and for all.”

  Her eyes fluttered open. It was painful to watch, the effort of lifting those lashes, the intense focus in those eyes. Eve recognized the look, the determination of fighting back pain.

  “It’s all blurred, all runs together. Can’t bring it clear.”

  “That’s all right. Tell me whatever you can. You were coming home from work. You took the subway.”

  “Always take the subway. Just a few blocks. Hot night. Feet hurt.”

  “There was a van.”

  “Little moving van.” Marlene shifted restlessly, but before the doctor could move, Sela was stroking her daughter’s hair.

  “It’s all right, baby. It’s all over now. Nobody’s going to hurt you again. You’re safe. I’m right here.”

  “Man. Big cast on his arm. Never seen big cast like that. Couldn’t, couldn’t get the sofa in. Kept sliding back out, thumping against the street. Felt sorry for him. Mommy.”

  Deliberately Eve stepped closer, took Marlene’s other hand. “He can’t get to you now. He’s never going to touch you again. He thinks he beat you, but he didn’t. You’ve already won.”

  Her eyes fluttered again. “I can’t remember much. I was going to help him, then something hit me. It hurt. I never hurt like that. I don’t know after that, I don’t know.” Tears began to leak. “I can’t remember anything after that, except Mom talking to me, or Dad or my brother. Uncle Pete? Was Uncle Pete here, and Aunt Dora?”

  “Yes, honey. Everyone’s been here.”

  “I was just floating somewhere while they talked to me, then I woke up here.”

  “Before he hurt you, you looked at him.” Eve felt Marley’s fingers twitch in hers. “I bet you hesitated a little, got an impression of him. You figured he was okay, just some guy in trouble. You’re too smart to go up to someone who looked dangerous.”

  “He had that big cast, and he looked so upset and frustrated. He was cute. Curly dark hair. Curly hair and a ball cap. I think. I can’t . . . He looked over at me and smiled.”

  “Can you see him now. In your head? Can you see him, Marley?”

  “Yes . . . I think. It’s not clear.”

  “I’m going to show you some pictures. I want you to look at them and tell me if one of them is the man with the cast. Just see his face in your head, and look at the pictures.”

  “I’ll try.” She wet her lips. “I’m so thirsty.”

  “Here you are, sweetheart.” All but crooning, Sela brought a cup and straw to
her daughter’s lips. “Take your time. Remember you’re safe now.”

  “Hard to stay awake. Hard to think.”

  “She’s had enough, Lieutenant.”

  At Laurence’s voice, Marley stirred again, struggled to look toward him. “I heard you, when I was floating I heard you. You told me not to give up. That . . . you wouldn’t give up if I didn’t.”

  “That’s right.” It was the compassion in his voice, on his face that had Eve stifling her impatience.

  “And you didn’t give up,” Laurence said. “You’ve made me look real good around here.”

  “Give me one more minute,” Eve pleaded with him. “Just one more minute, Marley, and we’ll be all done.”

  “You’re the police?” Marlene turned her head on the pillow and looked impossibly young, impossibly frail. “I’m sorry. I’m getting mixed up.”

  “I’m the police.” Eve drew out photos of her suspects. “When you look at these pictures, remember he can’t touch you now. You got away, you didn’t give up, and he can’t touch you.”

  She showed them to Marlene one at a time, watching her eyes for that shock of recognition. She saw it, and the fear that rode with it.

  “Him. Oh God, him! Mom. Mommy.”

  “Lieutenant Dallas, that’s enough.”

  She elbowed the doctor back. “Marley. Are you sure?”

  “Yes, yes, yes.” She turned her face into her mother’s breast. “That’s his face. Those are his eyes. He smiled at me.”

  “It’s all right. He’s gone.”

  “I want you out. Now.”

  “I’m going.”

  “Wait.” Marlene groped for Eve’s hand again, and turned her bruised and exhausted face away from her mother. “He was going to kill me, wasn’t he?”

  “He didn’t. You beat him. And you stopped him.” She leaned over the bed, spoke very deliberately as Marlene’s eyes fluttered closed again. “You’re the one who stopped him, Marley. You remember that. Don’t ever forget that.”

  She stepped back while the doctor checked the vitals, the monitors. Then she turned and left the room.

  “Got that son of a bitch,” she said to Roarke and kept walking toward the elevator. “I need to go to Central, put this together. I still want you to check the travel dates. I want this ice cold and locked. I’ll have my warrant within two hours if I have to strangle a judge to get it.”

  “Lieutenant! Lieutenant, wait.” Sela rushed down the corridor. “You’re going after him now.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I am.”

  “Did you mean what you said, that she’d stopped him?”

  “I did.”

  She pressed her fingers to her lids. “That’s going to get her through. I know my girl, and that’ll get her through this. They didn’t think she’d ever wake up. I knew she would.”

  “You sure as hell did.”

  Sela laughed, then clamped a hand over her lips to hold back a sob. “Dr. Laurence, I know he was rude to you, but he’s been very kind to us, and worked very hard for Marley.”

  “I was rude right back. We’re all just looking out for her.”

  “I just wanted to say that I’ve thought of Dr. Laurence as her guardian angel, and you as her avenging one. I won’t ever forget you.” She rose on her toes, gave Eve a quick peck on the cheek, then hurried away.

  “Avenging angel.” Embarrassed, Eve hunched her shoulders as she stepped into the elevator. “Jesus.” Then she straightened, grinned fiercely. “I can tell you this, when I’m finished, Niles Renquist will see me as a demon from hell.”

  It was a tricky business, both politically and personally. Peabody was going to be pissed, and undoubtedly sulky, that she hadn’t been called in. She’d just have to suck it up, Eve thought, as she prepared to make her pitch to Commander Whitney.

  He was, she imagined, none too pleased himself to have been called back into Central. When she stepped into his office and noted the tuxedo covering his big frame, she fought back a wince.

  “Sir, I’m sorry to have interrupted your evening.”

  “I assume your reasons for doing so will be strong enough to placate my wife.” As Eve wasn’t quite as successful in holding back the wince this time, Whitney nodded. “You don’t know the half of it. You’d better have Niles Renquist cold, Lieutenant, because before I deal with my wife, I’ve got the ambassador, the U.N., and the British government in line.”

  “Marlene Cox has positively identified Niles Renquist as her assailant. I have a statement from Sophia DiCarlo, employed as au pair in the Renquist household, which conflicts with his and Mrs. Renquist’s claim that he was home during the time of one of the murders. He is in possession of the stationery used for the notes left at the murder scenes, and he fits the profile. At this time Captain Feeney and expert civilian consultant Roarke are doing a search and scan on travel. I believe we will confirm that the subject was in London, Paris, Boston, and New L.A. at the time of previous murders, which match the methods of this case. Under ordinary circumstances, this would be enough for a search warrant and a warrant to bring the subject in for questioning on suspicion.”

  “But these aren’t ordinary circumstances.”

  “No, sir. The subject’s diplomatic status and the political arena add a sensitivity and a level of bureaucracy. I request that you speak directly with the judge and the necessary parties to expedite the warrants. He will kill again, Commander, and soon.”

  “You want my head in the noose, Lieutenant?” He cocked his head. “You have the statement of a woman in severe physical and emotional distress. A woman with head trauma. You have a statement from a household employee, who in your report claims to have been sexually abused by the subject. Those are both shaky. Owning or purchasing the brand of paper used in the notes isn’t enough, and you know it, or Renquist would have been in a cage before this. And there are others who fit the profile. All of this will be argued by Renquist’s representatives and attorneys, and the British government. You need to lock this down.”

  “If I get into his house, into his office, I’ll lock it down. It’s him, Commander. I know it’s him.”

  He sat in silence, wide fingers tapping on the surface of the desk. “If you’ve got any doubt, if there’s any room for doubt, it would be best to hold off on taking these steps. We can surveil, watch his every move until there is no doubt, and the case is a noose around his neck.”

  Good luck watching his every move if he gets back inside the U.N., Eve thought, but tried to put it more diplomatically. “Renquist may already be in the wind. Without the search, he stays in control. He’s the only one who knows the identity and whereabouts of his next target. If he beats me to her, she may not be as lucky as Marlene Cox.”

  “Once the calls are made and the ball starts rolling, it could flatten both of us. I can survive it. I’ve had more years wearing a badge than you’ve had breathing. I can live with retirement. The ramifications of this should you be wrong will damage your career, perhaps irrevocably. Understand that.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  “You’re a solid cop, Dallas, perhaps the best under my command. Is it worth pushing this forward now? Is it worth possible reassignment, losing your status in Homicide, and your credibility?”

  She thought of the dream, of the dead and the victims yet to come. There’s always another, her father had said. And damn him, he was right. “Yes, sir. If I weighed status more heavily than the job, I shouldn’t be here. I’m not wrong, but if I were, I’d take the hit.”

  “I’ll make the calls. Get me a goddamn cup of coffee.”

  She blinked at the order, looked vaguely around his office. The little twinge of resentment she felt as she walked to his AutoChef told her maybe status wasn’t so far down on her list after all.

  “How do you want it, sir?”

  “Coffee regular. Get me Judge Womack,” he said into the ’link. Then barked out a “Come” at the knock on his door.

  Feeney hustled in, a grim smile on his f
ace. Roarke strolled in behind him, grinned cheekily at Eve. “I wouldn’t mind a cup, while you’re at it.”

  “I don’t serve civilians.”

  “Serve and protect, Lieutenant,” he reminded her. “Protect and serve.”

  “Bite me,” she mumbled under her breath and carried the coffee to Whitney’s desk.

  “We got ’em,” Feeney said.

  “Hold that call. What have you got?”

  “Me and the civilian here did some E-finessing. If only the budget could afford this boy.” With sincere affection, he slapped Roarke’s shoulder. “Devious mind and magic fingers. Ah well.”

  “Cut through the bullshit, Feeney, and give me some weight.”

  “Our suspect took diplomatic, public, and private shuttles—and the private transpo was buried deep—to Paris, to London, to Boston, and to New L.A. He was in those cities during the time of the unsolved murders preceding the ones here. He frequently travels to London, as you’d expect. Less frequently to Boston. For London he uses the diplomatic transpo. For Boston, public, though it’s first-class and pricey all the way. But for the West Coast, he went private, and alone. Two trips by this method, the first, one month before the murder of Susie Mannery, the second, two days before with a return the following day—the day after the murder. Same pattern on the other unsolveds.”

  He turned to Eve. “Bull’s-eye, kid.”

  Even with the added weight, it was almost midnight before Eve had the warrants in hand. Still, her earlier fatigue had burned away in a rush of adrenaline.

  “How did you know?” Roarke asked as she drove uptown. “Walk the civilian through it.”

  “It had to be one of them. The stationery was too pointed, too much there for it not to be. He used it purposefully, to bring himself into it. The attention, the amusement, the excitement. He needs that.”

  She swung in behind a Rapid Cab, and let the cabbie plow the road for her. “But he’d have to know there’d be others, in New York, viable suspects. So he wouldn’t have been the first to buy it. Smith was, and Smith would be easy to track. He’s public, and he likes to make a splash.”

  “Go on,” Roarke prompted.