by J. D. Robb
“Residing? Is that what you Brits call it when a woman’s locked in a room and held against her will?” She shook her head at Baxter. “And they say we speak the same language.”
“Didn’t look like she was residing to me. Bet you like women locked up and helpless, Chase. Pregnant, too, so they can’t fight you off. Fucking pervert.”
“We will make note of any obscenities,” the brunette said primly.
“Wanker.” Eve grinned darkly at Chase. “I bet you watched Tandy on that security screen while you slapped the monkey.”
“You disgusting bitch.”
“Mr. Chase.” The brunette laid a hand over his. “Lieutenant, please. I believe we can clear this up quickly, and move on. I have here a statement Ms. Bullock dictated to her representative, and which Mr. Chase has corroborated and signed. I’d like to read it into evidence.”
“Help yourself.”
“On Thursday, shortly after six P.M., Ms. Bullock noticed Ms. Willowby on Madison Avenue, where Ms. Bullock had been shopping. In May of last year, Ms. Willowby had enlisted the help of the Bullock Foundation to assist her in placing her child for adoption. However, Ms. Willowby failed to keep subsequent appointments with the counselor, the obstetrician, and the placement agency. Relieved to see her well, Ms. Bullock approached her. At that time, Ms. Willowby became quite distraught and begged Ms. Bullock for help. Concerned, Ms. Bullock helped Ms. Willowby to her car, intending to have her driven home. But Ms. Willowby only became more hysterical, to the point of threatening suicide. She was nearly at term and had realized, she stated, that she could not raise the child, having neither the emotional nor the financial wherewithal. Out of concern, and with a desire to assist, Ms. Bullock took the young woman to her home—with Ms. Willowby’s full consent. She lodged Ms. Willowby there, arranged for medical assistance, and began to make arrangements for counseling and for adoption proceedings should Ms. Willowby remain in the same state of mind.”
“You can just stop there, because we didn’t bring shovels, and that’s the biggest load of bullshit we may have ever had dumped in this room. We’ve got you on Tandy, Chase. Not only her statement, but the statements of five cops and one civilian, who will all testify she was locked in a room against her will.”
“Ms. Willowby’s state of mind,” the lawyer began, and Eve shoved up from her chair, got in her face.
“I wonder what your state of mind would’ve been if you’d been locked in a room, examined by a medical droid without your consent. You can cram your statement and the rest of this bullshit. You can cram it, sister, because when Stuben and company goes down, your ass is very likely going to be hanging naked in the wind.”
“If this interview can’t be conducted with some measure of decorum—”
“Screw decorum and you with it. You don’t like it, there’s the door.” She shifted to Chase. “EDD is even now mining the medical droid’s memory banks. I don’t have to waste my time on that, because you’re going down for it, Win, you and Mommy. Oh, by the way, did you tell your representatives you were sleeping with Mommy when we took you down?”
“Shut up.”
“Lieutenant, please.” The female lawyer held up a hand, but Eve had seen the blink of shock. “Impugning Ms. Bullock’s and Mr. Chase’s reputations is unacceptable.”
“Here, again in the uncivilized U.S., so is incest. Twenty-five to life for the abduction and held-against-will of Tandy Willowby. And if we find you raped her while she was held—”
“I never touched that filthy slut!”
“Oh?” Eve flipped through one of the files. “Right, right, you don’t play that game, because it’s all about Mommy.”
“Maybe he likes—what do you call them—Nancy boys,” Baxter suggested. “Yeah, I bet this one likes to stick it to little boys when he’s not doing it with Mom.”
“You revolt me. We’ll bury both of you before this is done.”
“No, he wouldn’t play with boys,” Eve said. “Mommy wouldn’t like it. Didn’t rape Tandy either, did you, Win? Never got it up for anyone but your mother. Can’t get the wood on for anyone but her, can you?”
At Eve’s words, Chase shoved out of the chair, lunged toward her. It took both the lawyers and Baxter to hold him back.
“Lieutenant, this is simply unacceptable. I won’t have my client spoken to in this way.”
“Write a complaint.” She rose, circled around, leaned over the back of Chase’s shoulder. He was breathing hard, and she could feel the heat pumping off of him. “You didn’t rape Natalie either. Another filthy slut? Not like your mother, who’s important and understands you, your needs. You and your mother have so many secrets. Isn’t that what she told you when she touched you when you were a boy? A secret, just between the two of you. As long as you’re a good boy, do what your mother says, everything’s fine.
“Then that bitch Copperfield started poking around where she had no business, and she was going to try to take you down. She had the nerve to question your business. Did your mother tell you to do it, Win? I think so. You do what your mother tells you, or there’s no sack time with her. Did she tell you to use Randall Sloan’s car? Found your hair in it.”
“My client and Mr. Randall Sloan were acquainted. He might have ridden in that car at any time.”
“Driven it,” Eve corrected. “Hair was on the driver’s seat. Your hair. Your DNA, just like your DNA was on Bick Byson’s knuckles. Popped you before you could use your stunner—you coward. Don’t know how to fight like a man, but then you’re not a man. Just a boy who sleeps with his mother. Still, it was easy to slap around some woman half your size, bind her up. Break her fingers, beat her face, burn her skin. You enjoyed it, just like you enjoyed watching her eyes when you strangled her. I bet it’s the only way you get it up when you’re not with your mother.”
“This interview is terminated,” the brunette began.
“I’d enjoy watching yours,” Chase said softly.
“You going to let the girl lawyer say what you do? Just like Mommy. Do this, Win, do that. Good dog.”
“Nobody tells me what to do. Shut up!” he shouted at his lawyer. “Stupid git. I’ve had enough of this. Enough of being questioned by this person, of being placated by you. I’ve done no more than what needed to be done. It was Randall Sloan who hired some thug to kill those people. He confessed before he hanged himself.”
“How do you know? Were you there?”
“You told us yourself.”
“No, I didn’t. I said Randall Sloan was found hanging, period. He didn’t self-terminate. You killed him, and staged it. Because you’re a spineless coward. You killed Sophia Belego, Rome, and Emily Jones, Middlesex, England. Pregnant women must be an offense to your eye.”
“’Cause he can’t get it up except with Mommy Dearest,” Baxter said.
“It has nothing to do with sex! They signed a contract!” He slammed his fist on the table. “They signed a legal document, and we gave our word to properly screened parents. They had no right!”
“Yeah, carting a fetus around for nine months doesn’t give you any rights to it. You snatched Sophia Belego, didn’t you? Took that kid, got rid of the incubator. Didn’t work so well with Emily Jones. Lost the product on that one. How many others, Chase?”
“We provide a service!” he shouted over his lawyers’ warnings. “We give our time, our expertise, our name to help these women in trouble, through their own doing, their own weaknesses, and give a gift to worthy couples.”
“For a nice, fat fee.”
“They’re paid, aren’t they? Given a chance to better themselves while the child is properly raised. How dare you question me?”
He literally shook off the lawyer to his left, and backhanded the one on his right. “I don’t need to justify my actions.” He surged to his feet.
The brunette wiped at her bloody lip and tried to stand. “This interview is—”
“Shut up! Didn’t I tell you to shut the hell up?”
“Sneaking around, sticking their noses into our business. Sloan’s fault for being sloppy. Lazy, incompetent.”
“So you had to kill them. All of them. It was a matter of pride,” Eve continued calmly. “Of business.”
“The Bullock Foundation needed to be protected. It’s bigger than any of those pathetic people. My mother is the heart of the foundation and has taken it beyond what it was. It was blackmail against us, all of them. What I did was self-defense, to preserve an important charitable institution.”
With a handkerchief still pressed to her bleeding lip, the brunette lifted a hand. “We need to consult with our client.”
“You’re fired.” Chase bared his teeth as he swung around violently enough to have both lawyers scrambling back. “Do you think I need you? Idiots. Panderers. Get out. I’ve had enough of both of you. Out of my sight.”
“Mr. Chase—”
“Now! I can and will speak for myself,” he said as the lawyers emptied out of the room.
Now, Eve thought, we’ll do this thing. She kept her face blank, her voice even. “Mr. Chase, for the record, you have dismissed your representatives?”
He curled his lip at Eve. “I speak for myself.”
“You’re waiving your right to counsel at this time?”
“How many times do I have to say it, you ignorant twit.”
“That’s probably enough. Let the record show Mr. Chase has dismissed his representatives and has agreed to continue this interview without the benefit of legal counsel.”
She paused, put a concerned, respectful look on her face. “Blackmail, you said? That puts a different face on it. Why don’t you tell us how this started? You were informed by Randall Sloan that Natalie Copperfield was asking questions,” Eve began.
And he gave them every last detail.
21
PEABODY HAD A TUBE OF PEPSI WAITING WHEN Eve came out. “You usually like your caffeine cold after a hot interrogation.” She held one out to Baxter. “Wasn’t sure about you.”
“I’ll take it any way I can get it.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that from several women,” Eve said before she took a deep drink.
For the first time in hours, Baxter laughed. “Thanks for letting me take that scum down with you, Dallas. I’m going to contact Palma, let her know we’ve got him.”
“Dallas, Jacob Sloan came in while you were in Interview. They put him in the lounge.”
“Okay, I’ll take him. You can have Bullock brought up.”
“Sure you don’t want a break before her? You’ve been at this for nearly six hours, pretty much straight.”
“I’m tying it up, wrapping it up, writing it up.” She rubbed at the stiffness in her neck. “Then I’m going home, and so are you.”
“Yay. I’ll have her brought up.”
Eve carried her drink into the lounge, scrubbed her hands over her face, then walked over to sit at the table across from Jacob Sloan.
He looked older, more frail, and exhausted.
“Mr. Sloan, you should go home, be with your family.”
“Did Winfield Chase kill my son? I have sources,” he said when Eve lifted her eyebrows. “I know he was arrested, along with his mother. I can’t see Madeline doing more than pulling strings, so I’m asking you, did Winfield Chase kill my son?”
“Yes. He’s just confessed. He staged the suicide to implicate your son in the murders of Natalie Copperfield and Bick Byson, who he also has confessed to killing.”
When he folded his lips tight, nodded, Eve rose. She broke her boycott on Vending and programmed a bottle of water. She sat back down, put it in front of him.
“Thank you.” His hand shook a little as he lifted the bottle and drank. “My son was a disappointment to me, in many ways. He was selfish and lazy and gambled away his youth, his marriage, his reputation. But he was my son.”
“I’m very sorry for your loss.”
He drank more, slowly, then breathed out. “Natalie and Bick, they were bright and they were clean. Their lives together were just beginning. I’ll regret…” Once again he pressed his lips together. “Have their families been told?”
“It’s being done now.”
“Then I’ll wait until tomorrow before I contact them. Why did he kill them? Can you tell me?”
“I can tell you that Natalie was doing her job, and she found something she tried to fix, tried to make right.”
“My son. He was not doing his job.” He shook his head when Eve said nothing. “This will be hard, very hard, on my grandson, on my wife.”
“Then you should be with them, Mr. Sloan.”
“Yes, I should be with them.” He got to his feet. “Anything you need from me, my family, my firm to make certain Winfield Chase spends every last second of his life in prison, you have only to ask.” He held out his hand. “Thank you.”
Eve sat another moment after he’d gone, finished off her drink. Then she went into the washroom, scrubbed cold water over her face.
She went to face down Madeline Bullock.
Word had gone out, Eve imagined, as there were only two lawyers with her.
“Record on,” Eve said and started the routine.
“Your son’s confessed to five counts of murder,” she began, watching Madeline’s eyes. “I see you’ve got wind of that. He’s also detailed your involvement in each of these murders, and in the abduction of Tandy Willowby.”
“Ms. Bullock is prepared to make a statement,” one of the lawyers said.
“Not dictating this load of crap, Madeline? Okay, let’s hear it.”
“I don’t expect you to understand my terror, my grief, my guilt.” Madeline pressed a lace-trimmed handkerchief to her lips. “My son…how can I not blame myself? He came from me. But something…twisted in him. Such violence, such rage. I’ve lived in fear of him for so long.”
“Please. You’re not afraid of anything but losing your grip on the foundation—its money and prestige and the operation you’ve been running through it almost since your husband died.”
“You can’t possibly understand. He’s forced me to…it’s unspeakable.”
“Have sex with him? See, it’s speakable. And that’s more crap. You’ve been abusing your son sexually most of his life.”
“What a horrible thing to say.” Madeline seemed to break down, and for a moment buried her face in the handkerchief. “Win is sick, and nothing I could do—”
“He came from you,” Eve said, feeling the rage rise up, seeing herself trapped in a cold room with the man she’d come from, the man who’d raped her repeatedly. “And you exploited and abused him. You made him exactly what he is.”
“You can’t possibly know the horrors I’ve lived through.”
“You don’t want to talk to me about horrors. I’ve got statements from your son, from Walter Cavendish, from Ellyn Bruberry, all naming you as the one in control, the one who made the decisions and gave the orders. You think because you didn’t get your hands dirty with murder, you’re walking away clean?”
“I did whatever Win told me. He might have killed me otherwise.”
Madeline reached across the table to grip Eve’s hands, and Eve allowed it though her skin felt tainted. You’re good, she thought, you’re damn good at this, Madeline.
“I appeal to you, woman to woman. I beg you to protect me. There’s a monster inside my son. I’m so afraid.”
“Ms. Bullock has been virtually a prisoner of her son’s sickness,” one of the lawyers began. “A victim of physical and emotional abuse. He used her—”
“He used you?” Eve interrupted, wrenching her hands free as she looked into Madeline’s face, and saw her father’s. “That’s just crap, Madeline. No one uses you. And I can’t think of anything more weak, more pitiful, than a mother who’d roll on her own son to try to save her ass. You’re done, you get that? You’ve got no way out.”
&nbs
p; I want you to sweat, Eve thought. I want you to tremble, and suffer and fucking wail. “We’ve got the playback from the medical droid’s memory. You’re on there. The British authorities have picked up your Doctor Brownburn—who has already confessed, already stated that she took her orders straight from you. Nobody’s going to buy the weak, frightened little mother act, Madeline. You’re the power. More, you’re a fucking spider, a bloodsucker, and it shows.”
“I have nothing more to say to this person,” Madeline snapped. “I want to speak with the British consulate. I’ll be speaking to your President, who is a personal friend, and the Prime Minister.”
“Toss in the King of England, it’s fine with me.” Eve leaned forward. “They’re going to scramble back from you so fast they’ll get whiplash. And just wait until Global starts talking to the women whose babies you bought, the people who bought them. We’ve got the list, Madeline. We’ve got the names, the locations, and the international media’s going to do a tango when this hits.”
“That’s what you’re looking for, isn’t it?” Madeline sucked air through her nose. “Media attention. My name, the reputation of the Bullock Foundation, will stand against anything you manufacture against me. You’ll be crushed.”
“You think so?” Eve looked Madeline dead in the eyes, and she smiled. She kept smiling until she saw the first true glitter of fear. “They’ll crucify you while thousands cheer. And when I’m done with you here, you’ll have to answer to the Italian authorities for Sophia Belego—Chase told us where they’ll find her remains. You were with him, in Rome, when she went missing. You’ve got a home there, too, and they’ll find evidence she was held there.”
“My son is mentally ill. He needs professional help.”
“If he is, you made him that way, twisting his view of sex, of women, of himself so you could get your jollies.”
“Lieutenant.” The lawyer spoke up while Madeline simply stared at Eve with those arctic eyes. “Ms. Bullock has already stated that Mr. Chase was the aggressor.”