by J. D. Robb
“Wide maybe.” Peabody shrugged. “Or it was wide, but those roots can’t be more than an inch deep. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have been so easy to rip out.”
Because Eve smiled at her, Peabody shrugged again. “Dallas and Peabody exiting Interview. Record off.”
“Nice parting shot,” Eve told her when they stood outside. “That’s a gardening thing, right?”
“Yeah. Jesus, I need another shower after that.”
“Take an hour.”
“I don’t need that long to shake it off.”
“Take an hour,” Eve repeated. “Get some food, take a walk. This was the worst of it. The daughter’s more your normal greedy murdering bitch.”
“And we eat them for breakfast.”
“Every day. Twice a day.”
Peabody laughed. “Can’t eat that much. New pants.”
“Take your new pants and have that sick son of a bitch taken back to his cage.”
She started toward Observation, but Mira, Teasdale, and Reo stepped out.
Eve looked at Mira first. “He’s legally sane.”
“Yes. He’s a fanatical bigot with a messiah complex who may believe a good deal of what he said in there—not all, but a good deal. And legally sane.”
“Good.” Now at Reo. “No deals.”
“Not even a tiny one.”
“Good again. Special Agent.”
“I’m going to ask what might be considered a favor, but what I hope will be understood and prevent any friction between this department and mine.”
“He took your man, he beat your man half to death. You want Wilkey first.”
“Yes. You’ve more than laid the groundwork for the federal crimes we’ll charge him with. I want you to agree not to fight me on him serving his time in federal prison before your charges kick in.”
“Done.”
Teasdale opened her mouth, then closed it, nodded. “You say that understanding he won’t live to pay for what you charge him with here.”
“He’s going to die in a cage. Why would I care what kind? Except sometimes I do,” Eve added. “Mirium Wilkey.”
“Is yours first, no question. Not from my end. I’m about to confer with Interpol. Hopefully they’ll be as cooperative as you.”
“They’ll have the upper echelon from the island. Whoever ran the day-to-day, brought people in, did the torture, and so on. They’ll take that. Everybody gets a share. Is it Abernathy you’re meeting?”
“No, someone a bit higher up.”
“Good luck. One question? Are you looking at higher up? The lateral move from Homeland to the FBI.”
Teasdale offered a very slight smile. “Opportunity knocked. I’ll speak to you again.”
Eve stopped in the bullpen for a quick roundup with whoever was between interviews. Santiago sat at his desk using voice command to write his report.
“You gave us the easy ones because I got dinged.”
Behind his back Carmichael rolled her eyes, but Eve stepped up to his desk.
“My take? You’re feeling bitchy because the crazy woman got a little piece of you.”
He shrugged. “That’s fair.”
“I respect that. Did you nail them all down?”
“Yeah, the APA and shrink assigned signed off.”
“Good. The next two won’t be so easy. Call up Phiffer. Head cleaner, Piper homicide. He dug up a lawyer. And pick one of the cleaning crew—they’re in the file. Take the lower level guy first, squeeze him, flip him, and take down Phiffer.”
“We can do that.” Considerably brightened, Santiago turned to Carmichael. “We can do that.”
“Yes, we can.”
Satisfied, Eve went to her office, and found Roarke.
“You were in my ear twenty minutes ago.”
“Now I’m here.” He pointed to the covered plate on her desk. “Cold pasta. Eat something.”
“I need to prep for Mirium Wilkey.”
“Tell me you’re not already fully prepped and ready for her.”
Since she couldn’t, Eve sat, lifted the cover. Cold pasta—with vegetables, of course, because Roarke.
“Data’s coming in so fast. EDD’s a machine today.”
“I can say the same for your division. And as I’m no longer quite so useful, I’ve found a place to catch up on some work.”
“Your office—home or Midtown—would work. You’ve given this a hell of a lot of time.”
“I’m invested.”
With his hands in his pockets, his fingers found the button, Eve’s button, and rubbed it.
“Dochas has taken in ten women and eight children. Women who were already sheltered there volunteered to double up. That speaks to me. And when you’ve closed this down for the day, I’d like to take your squad and EDD out for drinks and a meal.” He held up a hand before she could object.
“Things moved fast after Cobbe and Ireland, and I’d like to show my appreciation in a tangible way.”
“You hauled them to Ireland and back in a private shuttle, your family fed them like an army on leave.”
He simply walked to her, ran a hand over her hair. “I’d like to do this.”
Needed to, she realized. Maybe needed to so he could—so they could—shut out some of the misery they’d seen for just a little while.
“You want to blow a good chunk of your fortune on a bunch of cops, fine with me. I’ll pass the word. But that’s a hell of a lot of people on short notice.”
“Happily I own a very fine pub not far from here. It’ll be closed tonight for a private party. I’ll do that catching up now so I can observe some part of your evisceration of Mirium Wilkey. I’d wish you luck with it, but you don’t need it.”
He leaned down to kiss her. “Make her pay,” he murmured, “for all of them.”
She would, Eve thought. She’d make Mirium Wilkey pay for Ariel Byrd, for all the rest. And for putting that hint of sadness in the eyes of the man she loved.
Because, she knew, he saw her in Ella Foxx, in Fiona Vassar—and all the others.
When she walked into Interview with Peabody, started the record, Mirium sat in her jumpsuit, back straight, hands folded.
“So, Mirium, I’m told you’ve been informed the lawyer you attempted to contact for representation in these matters is unavailable. Due to being charged with multiple crimes also relating to these matters. And you’ve opted not to engage or request other legal representation.”
“I’m capable of defending myself.”
“Good for you. We’ll get started. Gina Mancini, Ella Alice Foxx,” Eve began, and read off a long list of names as she laid their ID shots on the table. “You may be surprised to see some of this official identification, as you played a part—that computer science degree—in wiping their official records.”
“I don’t know what or whom you’re talking about.”
“Oh now, Mirium.” Shaking her head, Eve offered a small pity smile. “If you think capable of defending yourself equals starting off with easily debunked lies, you’re heading down the wrong road. We have statements from every one of these women, who all identify you as their abductor. We also have statements from three—so far—of your accomplices, Jane Po and Michael Harstead and Denise Wexford, corroborating that. They also gave complete details on same, like the drugs you used, the vehicle you drove, the payments you made in exchange for their assistance.”
Mirium barely missed a beat. “I did what I had to do to protect myself.”
“You drugged and abducted these women—some minors at the time—and delivered them to the compound in Connecticut—thereby crossing state lines—to protect yourself? These women threatened you?”
“Not them. My father, my brothers, the people he controls.”
“Your father threatened you?”
“Every day of my life.” She worked up watery eyes that to Eve looked more like an allergic reaction than tears. “You have no idea what he’s capable of.”
“Oh, we’ve got so
me clues. What was the nature of the threat?”
“If I didn’t do what he ordered me to do, he’d have me taken to the island, keep me there, or worse, he’d sell me to one of his faithful.”
“Like you helped him sell the women you abducted for him?”
“I’m not proud of what I did, but I feared for my life. Every day. If you question Stanton Wilkey, the repercussions …” She trailed off as she pressed her lips together, stared down at the table. “I could be locked in my room for days on his whim.”
“How terrifying.” Peabody widened her eyes, blinked them. “Locked in a suite of rooms, Dallas, with a big, soft bed, an entertainment screen, an AutoChef, a spa-like en suite. The horror!”
Mirium cut her gaze to Peabody, and the heat in it burned away the fake tears. “The man’s a monster. He could have me beaten.”
“Should’ve led with that,” Eve commented. “Most people would. So, in terror of your monster dad, you traveled freely from the compound to the city, had meetings, often stayed at the—you called it a pied-à-terre, deceived young women by posing as a recruiter for employment, then drugged them and transported them back to the compound.”
“All under duress. I had no choice.”
“Right. And in all those hours, sometimes days, away from the compound and your monster dad, you never once considered going to the authorities with your fears and desperation.”
“I was afraid to. I truly believed he was invincible. Now I have hope, but I’m still afraid.”
“Uh-huh. And those fears traveled with you when you visited the farms and ranches out west, or shuttled to Europe, the island, when you banked your recruiter’s fees and so on.”
“The fear of the Time Out, Dallas. It can’t be overstated.” Peabody snickered, then chuckled, then threw up her hands and broke into giggles.
“Don’t you dare mock me, you stupid bitch!”
Mirium shoved up and, since Eve had—deliberately—had her brought in without restraints, lunged.
Since Peabody timed it well, Eve let it play out. Mirium’s shove, Peabody’s grab and spin.
“That’s assaulting an officer,” Peabody snapped. “Sit down, stay down, or I’ll put you down.”
“Said charge is added to the record.” Eve spoke mildly as Peabody put Mirium back in the chair. “And if you don’t want to be mocked, don’t be so damn mockable. Because everything you said is bullshit.”
Because, despite all of her planning, Mirium Wilkey hadn’t planned on this.
Now Eve shoved up, slapped both hands on the table, and leaned across and into Mirium’s face. “Bullshit, and every single one of these women, all your accomplices, every woman who worked in that house in the compound will testify to the bullshit. You ran that household, Mirium, treating these women like your personal slaves, happily ordering physical punishments if any of them didn’t move fast enough to suit you. Fucking tyrant, slapping Ella Foxx because there was too much goddamn pulp in your fresh OJ.”
“They’ll say anything to get back at my father. I had to maintain strict discipline in the house or—”
“And when you decided to assign Fiona Vassar to clean your rooms, scrub your toilet, make your bed and she didn’t fluff your pillows to your satisfaction, you slugged her? How the hell would your father have known? You ruled that house your way because you fucking enjoyed it.”
Eve sat back again. “You’re your father’s daughter, Mirium. If you want to play the victim tune, be my guest, but it sure doesn’t sing.”
“You can’t know what it’s like to be raised by a monster, to do his bidding because it’s all you know, and he’s everything you fear.”
Everything inside Eve tightened, twisted. And she used it, let it burn through her.
“I know you made your own choices. You weren’t helpless or beaten down. You weren’t locked in and defenseless. You wanted the life, the money, the travel, the power. You killed Ariel Byrd to gain and protect that power.”
“That’s insane! I told you before, I didn’t even know the woman. I was on retreat, in the compound.”
Rounding the table slowly, Eve leaned down, spoke quietly. “Do you really think you and your e-crew are better than me and mine? We have you leaving the compound on the evening of the murder, zipping out the gates in the same SUV you habitually used to abduct women. We have you entering the residence downtown. We have you leaving the residence twenty minutes before Ariel Byrd’s time of death. And we have you coming back with blood—her blood—on your shirt.”
Eve strolled around the table again, tossed evidence bags on the table. “We have the copy of Byrd’s key card—you should’ve ditched that. We have your recordings from the device you put in Gwen Huffman’s ’link.”
She tapped a bag with a tiny chip inside it. “Didn’t think to seal up when you made that, installed it.”
A risk, Eve thought, as they’d only found a partial. But she saw from the flicker on Mirium’s face, it had been a risk worth taking.
“You heard Gwen and Ariel argue, and Ariel in the heat of the moment threaten to expose Gwen. Couldn’t have that, could you? You’d gone to so much trouble, had such an investment. It went all the way back to that summer in the Hamptons when you saw Gwen with another girl and outed her. Off to Realignment with her, and that was power. It must’ve tasted so sweet.”
She sat, pulled Ariel’s crime scene shots out of the file.
“So you kept tabs on her, all this time. You knew the Realignment was bullshit, worse, torture—you’re an educated woman—and you knew Gwen continued to have relationships outside the rules of the order. But you bided your time there. Money and power on the line. You wanted her to meet the terms of her trust as much as she did. You’re the one who pointed her toward Caine.”
“It was going so well, too.” Peabody picked up the rhythm. “He falls for her, they’re engaged. And then she screws it all up with this artist. You need her to get that money—marry the rich guy, have a kid, get the big pot of money. Then you can blackmail her.”
“A nice side income. Sure, she can play her game out, divorce him for cause, move on, but she’ll pay, she’ll keep shelling out to keep you quiet.”
“You can’t prove any of this. It’s nothing but wild speculation.”
“Sure we can. Have proven the bulk of it, and the rest follows.” Eve kicked back. “You plan things out, Mirium, you organize, arrange the steps. But that temper messes you up. You should have waited Ariel out, but you beat her skull in because she would dare, dare to threaten your payoff. You’d have Gwen and her money—or her family’s money—on the hook forever. You know her well enough to be sure she’d pay to protect her image, her status, her fortune.”
“We’ve only known her for a few days,” Peabody added, “and we know she’s a shallow diva who only worries about herself. Golly.” Peabody blinked her eyes. “She’s a lot like you.”
“Yeah, they’re sisters under the skin,” Eve agreed.
“We’re nothing alike.” Mirium hissed it out.
“Well, you’re some smarter, and get some jollies over violence, but otherwise … You’d handle Gwen, right, Mirium, pull in that steady income? Then all you have to do is deal with your father. He’s getting older, he’s vulnerable—too many risky predilections now—and you know where all the bodies are buried. You’ve made sure of it. Your brothers? You can take care of them the same way. You take over, give it a little time. Maybe enough time for the Huffmans to have a fatal accident.”
Eve touched a finger to Ariel’s photo. “All that planning, all that investment, all that patience, that time, all blown to shit because Ariel Byrd fell in love with your pigeon.
“Oh yeah.” Eve held up a finger. “You didn’t have time to get your bloody shirt to the cleaners. Should’ve gotten rid of that, too, but I guess you really liked it. Shoving it in a laundry bag doesn’t take care of the blood. Ariel’s blood. So play victim all you want if that blows up your skirt, but you’re going down for mu
rder, for her murder and all the rest. And Natural Order is finished.”
Now Mirium leaned forward. “Do you think I give one small fuck about the order? A means to an end, nothing more. I had to listen to those rules, that rhetoric, that insulting crap all my life. Born female, I was less, always less. Good for nothing but running a household, pushing brats out of me. He set a deadline. I had less than two years before he married me off to the highest bidder. What do you think about that?”
“I think you should have made other choices. You could’ve walked out.”
“And into what?” Visibly incensed, Mirium threw up her hands. “I was entitled to my inheritance, entitled to be in charge. Jesus Christ, two of my brothers are morons and the half-bastard’s gay. I’m smarter than all of them, and I’m relegated to making sure the furniture’s dusted.”
Eve went with a hunch. “So you asked to recruit.”
“I showed him what I could do, how much I could bring in. God knows we needed it the way these idiot men spend and buy and squander. And still, after all that, he tells me it’s time to do my duty as a woman. I convinced him to give me time, but it was running out.”
“And you already had the Huffman plan in your pocket.”
“Sex is Gwen’s drug of choice. I saved her sorry ass from exposure countless times. I got sick of it. Who wouldn’t? I was so close, and that slut of an artist thought she could ruin things.”
“You showed her,” Peabody murmured.
“You’re damn right I did. I protected myself. And I protected Gwen. Again. When I headed over to that loft, I thought about talking her down. I’d done that with others. I thought about paying her off. I’d done that with others. And I decided the hell with it. I’m sick of it. I heard the music, knew she was up there, and had all those tools up there with her. Just end it, and maybe when Gwen hears about it, she’ll get scared enough to behave herself until she’s married and pregnant.”
“You used the copy of the swipe. You’d gotten it from Gwen’s purse, made a copy.”
“The same time I bugged her ’link. I went in, went up, picked up the hammer, and did what I had to do. I’ve waited my whole life to take what I’m entitled to. Waited, hearing how I’m to serve, to be weak and fertile and obedient. I’m entitled to be who I really am.”