Creation in Death

by J. D. Robb

  The glass held, but she saw it shake. She hit it again, aiming for the same spot, then a third time. On the forth, the glass erupted into a wild spiderweb of cracks.

  “Nearly through, Ariel.” Eve holstered her weapon, picked up the stool and slammed it into the damaged door. She beat at it until the ground sparkled and the opening was clear.

  After heaving the stool aside, Eve went back to uncover Ariel’s face. Paler now, Eve noted, shaking a little more. Had to get moving, had to get gone. “Found a way out. I’m going to cut these ropes now.”

  “Try not to let the knife slip. I’m pretty tired of getting cut.”

  Eve picked up one of Lowell’s tools, nudged the coat away from Ariel’s arm. It was patterned with cuts, punctures, burns. Eve set the blade on the rope, looked up into Ariel’s eyes. “He’s going to pay. He’s going to pay for every minute you spent in here. I swear it.”

  She had to saw through the rope, leaving bracelets of it around Ariel’s abraded wrists. And she had to turn her mind, her rage away from the wounds she saw.

  As she freed Ariel’s feet, she heard Lowell give a soft groan.

  “He’s waking up, he’s waking up.” Voice pitched in panic and pain, Ariel struggled to sit. “He can’t get loose, can he?”

  “No. He’s not getting up on his own. And look, if he tries, we have this.” Eve drew her weapon again.

  “Why don’t you stun him again? While I watch.”

  “Appreciate the sentiment, but I think it’s time to get you out of here. Here, let’s get this coat on you.” As Eve slid the sleeves on, Ariel hissed. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” She kept her eyes trained on Lowell. “I’m okay. Can you help me down so I can kick him? In the face. That’s what I imagined doing. I want to kick him in the face.”

  “Again, kudos on the sentiment. But here’s what we’re going to do. I want you to wrap your arms around my neck. Glass everywhere, and I don’t have a spare pair of shoes on me. I just need you to hold onto me, and I’m going to carry you out. You hold onto me, Ariel. I’ll get you out.”

  “Like…Like piggyback,” Ariel managed between shaky breaths when Eve backed up to the table.

  “Yeah, that’s the way. You get a little piggyback ride, and I’m hoping you don’t sample a lot of your products.”

  Ariel managed a watery laugh, then collapsed against Eve’s neck and shoulders.

  “Ready? Here we go.” With her own legs wobbly from the drugs, Eve bent to take the weight. She focused on the door. Five feet to get through, she calculated as she put one foot in front of the other. Another two, maybe three to get past the broken glass on the floor.

  There was communication equipment out there, she reminded herself as sweat slid over her skin and Ariel bit back whimpers. She’d tag her backup, the MTs.

  She heard something crash, then the rush of feet. And tightened her grip on the weapon in her hand. She let out the breath she was holding when she heard Roarke shout her name.

  “Back here! Call the MTs! That’s the cavalry, Ariel.”

  “No.” Ariel’s head slumped on Eve’s shoulder. “You are.”

  Roarke flew through the maze of the basement toward the echo of Eve’s voice. The sound of it had stabbed through the music, blown through him like breath.

  He saw her, pale, face gleaming with sweat, her weapon in her hand, and a quietly weeping woman on her back.

  He lowered his own weapon, let the tremor in his belly come and go. “We’ve come to save you.”

  She worked up a grin for him. “About damn time.”

  He was to her in the single beat of a heart, and despite the flood of cops pouring down, gripped her exhausted face in his hands and kissed her.

  “Here.” He shifted to lift Ariel from Eve’s back. “Let me help you.”

  “Is he yours?” Ariel asked.

  “Yeah. He’s mine.”

  Ariel stared up into Roarke’s face. “Wow.” She let out a deep, deep breath, then just closed her eyes.

  “MTs, now.” Eve bent, bracing her hands on her knees. “Peabody, you here?”

  “Present and accounted for.”

  “I want this place secured. I want a team of sweepers in here, going over every inch, documenting everything.”

  “Dallas, you look a little green.”

  “Tranq’d me. Fucker got by me for a half a second. Energy pills, tranqs, I’m a chemical stew.” She stayed as she was, snorting out a laugh. “Damn it. All electronics seized. Droid somewhere upstairs deactivated. And Jesus, somebody get that music off before my head explodes.”

  She pushed herself up, swayed, and might have tumbled if Feeney hadn’t gripped her arm. “Head rush. I’m okay, just a little queasy. Lowell’s in there, secured. You need to haul his ass in. Your collar.”

  “No, it’s not.” Feeney gave her arm a squeeze. “But I’ll haul his ass in for you. McNab, help the lieutenant upstairs, then get your butt back down here and start on the electronics.”

  “I don’t need help,” Eve protested.

  “You fall on your face,” Feeney murmured in her ear, “you’ll ruin your exit.”

  “Yeah. Yeah.”

  “Just lean on me, Lieutenant.” McNab wrapped an arm around her waist.

  “You try to cop a feel, I can still put you down.”

  “Whatever your condition, Dallas, you still scare me.”

  “Aw.” Touched, she slung an arm around his shoulders. “That’s so sweet.”

  Taking her weight, he led her through the maze of rooms, up the stairs. “We couldn’t get in,” he told her. “We were maybe ten minutes behind you—traffic snarl—then we couldn’t get in the damn house. Your car wasn’t there, but we knew you’d gone in. I couldn’t get through the security. Roarke did. We had battering rams and laser torches coming, but he got through.”

  “Nothing much keeps him out.”

  “It took time, even for him. Place is like the frigging Pentagon or something. Then we had to get through the next level on the basement.”

  “How long was I in there?”

  “Twenty minutes, half an hour, maybe.”

  “Not too bad.”

  “I’ll take her from here,” Roarke said.

  “Don’t—aw, no picking me up.” But she was already cradled in his arms.

  “I have to, for a minute anyway.” He simply buried his face against the side of her neck as cops and techs swarmed by. “I couldn’t get to you.”

  “Yeah, you did. Besides, I told you I could handle myself.”

  “So you did, so you always do. Are you hurt?”

  “No. Feel like I guzzled a bottle of wine, and not the good stuff. But it’s passing some. Gee, your hair smells good.” She sniffed at it, caught herself, and winced. “Damn tranqs. You gotta put me down. This is undermining my rep and authority.”

  He eased her onto her feet, but kept his arm around her waist for support. “You need to lie down.”

  “Really don’t. You lie down and everything starts spinning around. Just need to walk it off.”

  “Lieutenant?” Newkirk walked up with her coat. “Ms. Greenfeld asked that this get back to you.”

  “Thanks. Where is she?”

  “MTs are working on her, in the hall—the foyer, I guess it is.”

  “All right. Officer Newkirk? You did good work.”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant. Right now it feels like good work.”

  “I want to take a look at her before they transport her,” Eve said to Roarke, and let him help her to the foyer.

  Ariel was on a stretcher, covered with a blanket, a pair of MTs preparing to roll her out.

  “Give me a minute. Hey,” she said to Ariel, “how you doing?”

  “They gave me some really mag drugs. I feel sooooo good. You saved my life.” Ariel reached up to grip Eve’s hand.

  “I had a part in it. So did the cops crowding into this place, and this civilian here, too. But mostly, Ariel? You saved yourself. We’re going to nee
d to talk to you some more, when you’re feeling a little better.”

  “So he pays.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Anytime, anyplace.”

  “Okay. One more second,” she told the MTs, and held out a hand to Roarke. “Let me have your pocket ’link.” She took it, keyed in a number. “Hey, Erik. Hey,” she repeated when he began to spew out questions. “Quiet down. I’ve got someone here who wants to talk to you.” She put the ’link into Ariel’s hand. “Say hi, Ariel.”

  “Erik? Erik?” She began to cry, to laugh, and beamed up at Eve with drug-hazed eyes. “He’s crying. Don’t cry, Erik. I’m okay now. Everything’s okay.”

  “Go ahead,” Eve said to the MTs, “and tell the guy on the ’link where you’re taking her. He’ll want to be there.”

  “Nice job, Lieutenant,” Roarke murmured as they wheeled Ariel out.

  “Yeah. And you can always get another ’link. I have to go in, finish this up.”

  “We have to go in, finish this up,” Roarke corrected.

  She was steadier when she got to Central, and forced down some of the Eatery’s fake eggs in the hopes of smoothing out her system. She forked them up in the war room, chasing them with all the water she could stand.

  She wanted a shower, she wanted a bed. But more than she wanted anything, she wanted a turn with Lowell in the box.

  She set the food aside, rose, and walked over to stare at all the names on the board. “For all of them,” she said quietly. “What we did, what we do now, it’s for all of them. That’s the point that has to be made. In the box, in the courts, in the media. It’s important.”

  “No one who worked in this room these last days will forget them,” Roarke told her.

  She nodded. “This is going to take some time. I know you’re not leaving until it’s done, so I won’t bother suggesting it. You can stand in Observation, or be more comfortable and watch from one of the monitors.”

  “I like Observation.”

  “Okay then. I’m going to have him brought up, so go pick your spot. I need to talk to Peabody.”

  She headed toward the bullpen. It was buzzing, and as she stepped inside, applause broke out. Eve held up a hand. “Save it,” she ordered. “It’s not done yet. Peabody.”

  Peabody shoved up from her desk, turned, and took a quick bow before going out after Eve. “We’re pumped.”

  “Yeah, I know. Peabody, I have to ask you for a solid.”

  “Sure.”

  “You earned a turn in Interview with this bastard, and you’re secondary on the investigation. It’s your right. I need to ask you to step aside for Feeney on this.”

  “Can I stand in Observation and give Lowell the finger?”

  “Absolutely. I owe you.”

  “No. Not on this one. Nobody owes anybody on this one.”

  “Okay. Bring him up for us, will you? Interview A.”

  “Oh, my sincere pleasure. Dallas? I’ve just gotta dance.” And she did so, a kind of tap/shuffle as she walked away.

  Eve went into her office, tagged Feeney. “Interview A, he’s coming up.”

  “Burn his ass.”

  “Then get yours down here and help me fry him, ace.”

  “Peabody—”

  “Is observing, like half the cops in this place. Come on, Feeney, this one’s ours. Let’s wrap it up.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  When it was time, she walked into Interview A with Feeney. Lowell sat quietly alone, an ordinary-looking man past middle age with a pleasant if somewhat quizzical smile on his face.

  “Lieutenant Dallas, this is very unexpected.”

  “Record on, Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, and Feeney, Captain Ryan, in interview with subject Lowell, Robert.” She fed in the case numbers—all of them, then read off the Revised Miranda. “Robert Lowell do you understand your rights and obligations in this matter?”

  “Of course. You were very clear.”

  “You understand you’re being charged with the abductions, assaults, forced imprisonments, and murders of six women, the abduction and forced imprisonment of Ariel Greenfeld, and will subsequently be questioned by Global authorities on the abductions, assaults, illegal captivity, and murders of others.”

  “Yes, I do.” He continued to smile genially, folded his plump hands. “Should we save time by my acknowledging all those charges. Confessing to them? Or would that be anticlimactic?”

  “You’re awful damn chipper,” Feeney commented, “for a man who’s going to spend the rest of his miserable, murdering life in a cement cage.”

  “Well, actually, I won’t be. I will be quietly ending my time within the next twenty-four hours as per my requested and granted self-termination contract. It will stand,” he said pleasantly, “as my doctors have certified my terminal condition and my application. My lawyers have assured me that the certification will override even criminal charges. Neither the State nor Global will supersede an individual’s right to die. And, of course, it saves considerable expense. So…” He lifted his shoulders.

  “You think you can get off, get out, by swallowing a few pills?” Feeney demanded.

  “Indeed I do. It’s not what I hoped for, believe me. I haven’t finished my work, not completely. You were to be my ultimate,” he said to Eve. “The culmination of everything. When you were finished, then I would have approached my own death with all fully realized. Still, I have accomplished a great deal.”

  “Well.” Eve leaned back in her chair, nodded. “You sure covered the bases. I have to say—Bob—you thought of everything. I admire that. It’s not nearly as satisfying to pull in a sloppy killer.”

  “Order is one of my bywords.”

  “Yeah, I noticed. I appreciate you saving us time by being willing to confess to everything, but after all the work we put in, we’d really like the details. You could call it our culmination. So…this is going to take a while,” she said with an easy smile. “You want something to drink? I’m still a little off from the tranq you got into me. I’m going to go get myself some cold caffeine. You want?”

  “That’s very nice of you. I wouldn’t mind a soft drink.”

  “You got it. Feeney, why don’t you step out while I hit Vending. Pause record.”

  “What the hell,” Feeney began when they were outside Interview.

  Everything about her hardened: face, eyes, voice. “I’ve got a way around this. I don’t want you to ask me about it. Ever. When we go back in, we play along. We get the details, and we sew him up. Give me your ’link, will you? I haven’t replaced mine yet. And wait for me.”

  She took Feeney’s ’link, wandered down to Vending. And beeped Peabody on privacy mode. “Tell Roarke—quietly—to step out for a minute. Don’t say anything to me. We haven’t spoken.” She clicked off, then stared at the machine.

  Moments later, Roarke walked up behind her. “Lieutenant?”

  “Get me a Pepsi, a ginger ale, and a cream soda. I need you to make this go away,” she said under her breath. “Can you make his self-termination clearance disappear? No trace of it, anywhere?”

  “Yes,” he said simply as he ordered the tubes.

  “It crosses the line, what I’m asking you. I gave her my word he’d pay. And in the war room before I came out, I gave them all my word. So I’m crossing the line.”

  He retrieved the tubes, passed them to her. His eyes, meeting hers, spoke volumes. “I have to get on,” he said in a clear voice. “I wish I could stay, wait for you, but I’m expecting some calls and transmissions, and you gave Ariel my ’link. I’ll try to come back once I’ve taken care of this. Otherwise, I’ll see you at home.”

  “Yeah. Okay. Thanks.”

  They parted ways with her heading back to Feeney. “I got you cream soda.”

  “For Christ’s sake—”

  “Hey, if you wanted something else you should’ve said so. It’s going away,” she whispered. “Don’t ask me about it, just take my word. He’s not going out the way he want
s. We’ll let him think he is, until we have everything we need.”

  Feeney stared into her eyes for a long moment, then nodded. “Okay, let’s get it down.”

  It took hours, but Lowell never requested a break. He was, Eve realized, basking. After all the time, all the effort, he was finally able to share his obsession.

  He gave them meticulous details on every murder.

  Eve and Feeney worked in tandem, an old and easy rhythm.

  “You got yourself a good memory,” Feeney commented.

  “I do. You’ll find every project documented—keeping records, and we could say amending them, was one of my tasks during the wars. I’m sure you’ve collected all the records from my lab and office. I’d hoped, before I learned I was dying, to arrange for my work to be published. It will have to be posthumously, but I believe that’s appropriate.”

  “So, your work,” Eve began, “what got you started? We understand the women—”

  “Partners. I considered them partners.”

  “I bet they didn’t see it your way, but fine. Your partners represented to you your stepmother.”

  “They became her, which is entirely different. She was the first, you see. The Eve.” He smiled brilliantly. “So you can see why I knew you were to be the last.”

  “Yeah, too bad about your luck on that.”

  “I always knew I could fail, but if I succeeded it would have been perfection. As she was. She was magnificent. You’ll also find many recording discs of her performances. She gave up a great career for me.”

  “For you?”

  “Yes. We were, well, the term would be ‘soul mates.’ While I could never play—she was an accomplished pianist—nor did I have a voice to offer, it was through her I gained my great love and admiration for music. It was by her I was saved.”

  “How so?”

  “My father considered me imperfect. Some difficulties with my birth, which caused, well, you could call it a defect. I had some trouble with controlling my impulses, and there were mood swings. He institutionalized me briefly, over my grandfather’s objections, when I was quite young. Then Edwina came into my life. She was patient and loving, and used music to help me remain calm or entertained. She was my mother and my partner, and my great love.”