Time of Death (22 page)

“I’ve never touched a child—”

“I’ll lie.” Eve grinned. “And I’ll love it. One shot, and if you so much as
think
lawyer, it’s done. You only get the chance because Jack’s soft-hearted enough to think you feel real bad about what happened. Me? I’m hoping you pass so I can look forward to getting the reports on how many inventive ways the other cons and the guards rape you over the next, oh, fifty years.”

She came around the table, whispered in Leah’s ear. “They find ways to get sharp, ugly tools into those cages, Leah. They’ll slice and dice you, let them stitch you up again just so they can slice and dice some more. The more you beg, the more they’ll enjoy it.”

She watched tears plop on Leah’s trembling hands, on the rough surface of the table. And thinking of Ava, felt no pity. “She trusted you, you bitch.”

“Please. Oh, please.”

“Screw you.” Eve walked to the door, stepped out. She took a deep breath, signaled Peabody. “Let’s do it.” Walking back in, she nodded toward the observation glass. “Record on. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve—”

“Please, please. I’ll tell you everything.”

“Hey, great.” Eve slid into her chair, composed and easy. “Let’s just get everything on record first, and read you your rights.”

When she’d finished, she nodded to Leah. “What do you want to tell us, Ms. Burke?”

“I didn’t know it would be like that. I swear, I swear I didn’t know.”

“Like what?”

“So much blood. I never thought they would really kill her.”

“Be more specific.”

“I thought it would be a symbolic death.”

“Bullshit.” Eve leaned back in her chair with the warning in her eyes clear.
Lie, and your one shot dies.
“You knew exactly what was going to happen, and when it did, you couldn’t handle it. If you want me to go to the PA and say you came in, you confessed, you gave the details and feel remorse, don’t bullshit me. Did you participate in the ritual murder of Ava Marsterson?”

“Yes. I didn’t understand. Believe me, I didn’t understand. I thought I did, but . . . She didn’t accept, and neither did Jack. Not like Silas said they would.”

“Silas Pratt participated in the murder of Ava Marsterson?”

“He cut her throat. She just stood there, and he cut her throat, and the blood gushed out of her. She didn’t accept. She didn’t know what was happening, so how could she accept?”

“Accept what?”

“Her sacrifice. That she would be the gift.”

“Whose gift?”

“The gift from us to the prince. To Lucifer.”

“How long have you been a satanist?”

“I am
not
a satanist. I am a disciple of the One.”

Eve gave it a moment, unsure if she was amused or irritated by the obvious insult in Leah’s voice. “Okay. And does the One demand the murder of innocents?”

“Your God murdered my child.” Leah’s hands balled into fists, beat lightly on the table. “He took her, and what had she ever done? She was just a baby. I found my way back. I found my strength and my purpose.”

“Silas Pratt showed you the way back.”

“He’s a great man. You’ll never understand. A man of power. You’ll never hold him with your pitiful laws and your bars.”

“But he lied to you, this great man, this man of power,” Peabody put in. “He lied to you about Ava and Jack.”

“No, I think . . . No, he wouldn’t lie. I think he miscalculated, that’s all. She just wasn’t ready. Wasn’t as strong as Silas thought. Or maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m weak. I couldn’t stand what they did to her.”

“Tell me who they are. Every name of everyone who was in Suite 606.”

“Silas and his wife, Ola. Larry—Dr. Collins—and his wife, Bria.” In a dull, empty voice, she gave Eve a dozen names in addition to her own. “And Ava and Jack.”

“Dr. Slone?”

“No. Peter and the others from the clinic who weren’t there aren’t disciples or priests. It’s important, Silas thinks, that there are those who aren’t part of us—and to know who is open to our faith, and who would be closed. Everyone who is of our group attended. It was an important ritual, a celebration.”

“A celebration?”

“Yes. It was Silas’s birthday.”

“I’ve seen his records. It wasn’t his birthday.”

“His date of rebirth in the One.”

“Right.” Eve sat back again. “Why Ava and Jack?”

“Ava was the gift. Silas recognized her as such the day she came in to interview for the position. And Jack . . . the sexual energy between them would be a vital element to the ritual.”

“Why that room?”

“We’d considered other venues, but . . . A palace, it seemed right. And Larry’s connection to the head of security gave us the way in. I’m only a disciple. I don’t plan.” She folded her hands now, bowed her head. “I follow.”

“You followed them into that suite. But first you helped drug Ava and Jack at the clinic.”

“We gave them what would open them to the coming ritual, what would help them accept, and embrace Silas’s power.”

“He used hypnosis, Leah, on top of hallucinogens.”

Tears continued to gather and spill. “You don’t understand. You’re closed.”

“Fine. You used chemicals to open Ava and Jack, without their knowledge or permission.”

“Yes, but—”

“And once they were under that influence, you took them to the hotel. Correct?”

“Yes.”

“There, Mika Nakamura and Brian Trosky had also been drugged, and
embraced
by Silas’s power. That power caused them to shut down the security cameras to the lobby, and to the elevators for the sixtieth floor. It also, as had been done to Jack, caused them to forget what had been done, or suffer pain.”

“The pain is only if they refuse to accept, only to help them—”

“Inside the room, you ate and you drank, you engaged in sexual activity.”

Color flushed into her cheeks. It was amazing, Eve mused, what embarrassed murderers.

“Sex is an offering.”

“Ava didn’t offer, did she? After you’d feasted and stoked up, painted your pentagram, lit your candles, said whatever it is you people say, you stretched out a drugged, helpless, naked woman on the floor, and told a drugged, helpless man to have at her. He cared for her. They cared for each other, isn’t that true?”

“Yes, yes, but—”

“And when he finished what he’d have never done of his own will, the rest of you raped her.”

“Yes.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Everyone was required to take from the gift, and to give of ourselves. But I felt . . .”

“What?”

“Cold. So cold. Not the heat, not the fire, but ice. I heard her screaming in my head. I swear I
heard
her.” She covered her face with her hands. “But no one would listen. They pulled her to her feet. Kiki and Rodney. Silas stepped into the circle, and the cold, the cold was terrible. Her screaming was like spikes in my head. But no one heard her. He slashed her throat, and her blood sprayed all over him. Everyone rushed forward when she fell to take more blood, to make more blood. Jack passed out, so they coated him with her blood. They took him upstairs, left him in bed while they finished with her. Larry told me to go up, to take one of the knives and put it in Jack’s hand, and to give him another round of drugs so he’d overdose.”

“The plan was to kill Jack, leave him behind, so it looked as if he’d killed Ava.”

“Yes. Yes. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t give him more. Her blood was on my hands, and I could hear her screaming.” She laid down her head and wept.

“Give her five minutes to pull it together,” Eve told Peabody. “The charge is Murder in the Second, two counts,” she added, thinking of Trosky. “Additional charges are kidnapping, two counts, rape, inducing chemicals without consent or knowledge, including illegals. Have her booked and bolted. I’m going to go get us a shitload of warrants.”

 

 

Lack of sleep didn’t put a hitch in Eve’s stride as she walked to
Silas Pratt’s front door. Big, fancy house, she noted. Well, he’d seen the last of that. The droid that answered looked down its nose. “Dr. and Mrs. Pratt are unavailable at this time. Please leave your name and state your business, and—”

He didn’t get any further as Eve shoved him aside. “Shut that thing down,” she ordered the uniforms that trailed after her and Peabody. She walked into the spacious living area where the doctor and his wife were sipping martinis.

“Exactly what is the meaning of this?” Silas demanded as he surged to his feet.

“Deal with the woman, Peabody. He’s mine. Silas Pratt, you’re under arrest. The charges are Murder in the First Degree in the death of Ava Marsterson, a human being. Murder in the First Degree in the death of—”

“This is absurd. You’re absurd.”

Eve felt that
punch
of his, accepted the ice that coated her belly. Even welcomed it. “Don’t interrupt. Resist, by all means, because I’d love to spend the next several minutes kicking your ass. Jesus, Peabody, can’t you shut her up?”

“She’s a screamer,” Peabody said cheerfully as she passed the hysterical Ola to waiting uniforms.

“Now where was I? Oh yeah, the death of Brian Trosky, another human being. We’ve got kidnapping charges, illegals, fraud, medical abuse, and just for fun, destruction of property. You guys seriously trashed that suite. You have the right to remain silent,” she began.

“You can go to hell.”

“Thanks, but New York’s close enough for me.” She grabbed one of his arms to pull it behind his back as she read him the rest of the Revised Miranda. When he tried to shake her off, she gave herself the pleasure of slamming the heel of her boot into his instep. He cursed at her, snarled at her as she clapped the restraints to his wrist. “What is that, Latin? Greek? Or is it just all made up?”

He struggled as she frog-marched him across the room, which, she thought, it could be argued was the reason his head smacked into the doorjamb. “Gee, I bet you’re going to have a headache now. Cut it out, before you hurt yourself.”

“I’ll drink your blood from a silver cup.”

“That’s just disgusting.” She moved her mouth close to his ear. “You don’t have any power here, asshole. Getting arrested, dragged out of your fancy house in front of your fancy neighbors, and hey, look, it’s Channel 75.” She beamed, pleased her heads-up to her contact there had brought the media. “Nothing like humiliation to water down power. I bet even the devil himself’s embarrassed.”

She muscled him into the back of the police car. She fixed dark glasses over his head, over his eyes. “Remember he’s a sensitive,” she told the cops she’d put in charge. “He goes straight into isolation.”

She slammed the door, put her hands on her hips. “Go home, Peabody,” she said when her partner stepped beside her and yawned until her jaw cracked. “Get some sleep.”

“I am so on that. Some day, huh?”

“Yeah, some day.” Eve stood where she was, watched Roarke come to her. Gosh, she thought, pretty. And realized sleep deprivation had gooed up her brain.

“I imagine this arrest will be playing on-screen for some time.”

“That’s entertainment.” Eve gave him a quick smile.

“Please tell me you’re not going to make all the other arrests personally, then deal with the ensuing paperwork tonight.”

“Nah, I just wanted this one, ’specially. I delegated, and the paperwork’ll wait till morning. I’m pretty close to falling on my face.”

He put his arms around her, amused that she was tired enough not to resist even though some of the media remained. “I want to go home, sleep with my wife. For days.”

“Settle for eight straight hours?”

“Deal.”

With their arms around each other’s waist they walked to the car. Roarke got behind the wheel; Eve slid into the passenger’s seat. And, he noted, got started on that eight hours immediately.

Jack sat up in bed when Eve entered his treatment room. He was
pale, and bruises of fatigue dogged his eyes. No doubt she’d had a more restful night than he had. “Doctor?” he began.

“Lieutenant. Lieutenant Dallas. Do you remember me?”

He stared through her for a moment. “Yes. I remember.” He held up a hand, a signal to wait. And shutting his eyes, breathed. “I remember. You were at the hotel, but not, not in that room. And you were talking to me in another room. The police station. Am I under arrest?”

“No, Jack. I know you’re working with Dr. Mira. She says you’re better than you were, and you’ll be better yet.”

“The drugs are out of my system. It helps. The headaches . . . it’s not as bad. Ava’s dead. I was there.” The words trembled out. Once more he closed his eyes, breathed. “I was there. I raped her.”

“No, you didn’t. They used you both. You’re a doctor, Jack. I know Mira told you what they’d put in you, and you know what those chemicals can do. You were drugged, put under hypnosis. Kidnapped. Nothing that happened was your fault or responsibility. You were a victim.”

“I’m alive. She’s not.”

“I know. That’s hard. You’re afraid to remember, afraid to ask if you used the knife you had in your hand.”

His eyes welled, and tears leaked out. “How can I live with that? Whatever they put in me, whatever they did, how can I live with that?”

“You don’t have to. You didn’t use the knife. I have a number of statements from people who were there, who were involved. Every one of them says you passed out. They put the knife in your hand when you were upstairs, unconscious.”

“The blood. Her blood.”

“They put it on you. You were supposed to die, holding the knife, covered in her blood. There would have been questions, sure, a lot of questions. Who else was with you. They had two other people they believed would be dead who’d be tied in. One of them is dead, Jack—he didn’t do anything, and he’s dead. Another is across the hall in a room like this, struggling to deal with what happened. They drugged her, used her. Do you blame her for Ava?”