15
“I’M INTRUDING, INTERRUPTING.”
“You’re not.” Eve steered him toward the parlor. “Let’s go sit down. We’re going to have some coffee.” His hands were cold, she thought, and his body felt fragile. There were always more victims than the dead.
Who knew better?
She led him to a chair by the fire, relieved she didn’t have to ask Roarke to light one. Anticipating her, he already was, so she pulled a chair around, angling it so she sat facing Morris.
“It was easier, somehow,” Morris began, “when there were details to see to. Easier somehow to go through the steps. The memorial, it centered me. Somehow. Her brother—helping him—it was something that had to be done. Then she was gone. She’s gone. And it’s final, and there’s nothing for me to do.”
“Tell me about her. Some small thing, something not important. Just something.”
“She liked to walk in the city. She’d rather walk than take a cab, even when it was cold.”
“She liked to see what was going on, be part of it,” Eve prompted.
“Yes. She liked the night, walking at night. Finding some new place to have a drink or listen to music. She wanted me to teach her how to play the saxophone. She had no talent for it whatsoever. God.” A shudder ran through him. Racked him. “Oh, God.”
“But you tried to teach her.”
“She’d be so serious about it, but the noise—you’d never call it music—that came out would make her laugh. She’d push the sax at me, and tell me to play something. She liked to stretch out on the couch and ask me to play.”
“You can see her there?”
“Yes. Candlelight on her face, that half smile of hers. She’d relax and watch me play.”
“You can see her there,” Eve repeated. “She’s not gone.”
He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes.
Panicked, Eve looked over at Roarke. And he nodded, centered her. So she kept talking.
“I’ve never lost anyone who mattered,” Eve told Morris. “Not like this. For a long time, I didn’t have anyone who mattered. So I don’t know. Not all the way. But I feel, because of what I do. I feel. I don’t know how people get through it, Morris, I swear to Christ I don’t know how they put one foot in front of the other. I think they need something to hold on to. You can see her, and you can hold on to that.”
Morris dropped his hands, stared down at them. Empty. “I can. Yes, I can. I’m grateful, to both of you. I keep leaning on you. And here, I’ve turned up on your doorstep, pushing this into your evening.”
“Stop. Death’s a bastard,” Eve said. “When the bastard comes, the ones left need family. We’re family.”
Summerset wheeled in a small table. Businesslike and efficient, he moved it between Eve and Morris. “Dr. Morris, you’ll have some soup now.”
“I—”
“It’s what you need. This is what you need.”
“Would you see the blue suite on the third floor’s prepared.” Roarke moved forward now to sit on the arm of Eve’s chair. “Dr. Morris will be staying tonight.”
Morris started to speak, then just closed his eyes, took a breath. “Thank you.”
“I’ll take care of it.” When Summerset started out, Eve slid out of the chair and went after him. She caught him at the doorway, spoke quietly.
“You didn’t tranq that soup, did you?”
“Certainly not.”
“Okay, don’t get huffy.”
“I am never huffy.”
“Fine. Whatever.” She had more important things to do than wrangle with Summerset.
“Lieutenant,” he said as she turned away. “It will likely be a very long while before I ever repeat this, if that day should ever come. But I’ll say now, at this precise moment, I’m proud of you.”
Her jaw very nearly slammed into the toes of her boots. She goggled at his stiff, skinny back as he walked away. “Weird,” she muttered. “Very, very weird.”
She went back inside, took her seat. It relieved her that Morris ate, that his voice was back to steady as he and Roarke talked. “Some part of my brain must have been functioning, because it brought me here.”
“You’ll talk to Mira, when you’re ready?”
Morris considered Roarke’s question. “I suppose I will. I know what she’ll offer. I know it’s right. We deal with it every day. As you said, Dallas, we feel.”
“I don’t know what you think about this sort of thing,” Eve began. “But I know this priest.”
A faintest ghost of a smile touched Morris’s mouth. “A priest.”
“A Catholic guy, from this case I worked.”
“Oh yes, Father Lopez, from Spanish Harlem. I spoke with him during that business.”
“Sure. Right. Well, anyway . . . There’s something about him. Something solid, I guess. Maybe, if you wanted someone outside of the circle, outside of the job, you know, you could talk to him.”
“I was raised Buddhist.”
“Oh, well . . .”
That ghost of a smile remained. “And as I grew up, I experimented and toyed with a variety of faiths. The organized sort, I found, didn’t stick with me. But it might be helpful to talk with this priest. Do you believe there’s more, after death?”
“Yes,” Eve answered without hesitation. “No way we go through all this crap, then that’s it. If it is, I’m going to be seriously pissed off.”
“Exactly. I feel them, and I’m sure you do, too. Sometimes when they come to me, it’s done. They’ve gone, and all I have is the shell of what they were. Others, there’s more. It lingers awhile. You know?”
“Yeah.” It wasn’t something she easily expressed, or shared. But she knew. “It’s harder to take when it lingers.”
“For me, it’s hopeful. She was gone when I saw her. I wanted, selfishly, to feel her. But she’d gone, wherever she needed to go. I needed to be reminded of that, I think. That she’s not gone, not from me, because I can see her. And that she’s somewhere she needs to be. Yes, Father Lopez may help me come to terms. But so can you.”
“What do you need?”
“Bring me in. Tell me what you know, all of it, everything. Not just what you think I should know, but everything. And give me something to do, some part of it. However mundane. Fact-checking or follow-ups, buying fucking doughnuts for the team. I need to be involved. I need to have some part in finding the person who did this.”
She studied his face. Yes, the need was there. The intensity of it nearly burned a hole in her heart. “You have to tell me this, tell me straight. Respect her, respect me, and tell me the truth.”
“I will.”
“What do you want when we find him? What do you want done?”
“You’re asking if I want to kill him, to take his life?”
“That’s what I’m asking.”
“I thought of it, even imagined it. There are so many ways, and in my position a lot of avenues to take. I did think of it. It would be for me, and not for her. It wouldn’t be what she wanted. I would . . . disappoint her. How could I do that? I want what she would want.”
“What is that?”
“Justice. There are a lot of colors there, though, a lot of degrees and levels. We know that, too.” His gaze skimmed to Roarke. “All of us know that. I want his pain, and I want his pain to last a very long time. Death ends—at least this part of us. I don’t want his death, and I’ll promise you on hers that I’ll do nothing to end him. I want him in a cage, years, decades in a cage. Then I want him in whatever hell might exist when death ends that. I want a part of making that happen.”
He reached across the table now, gripped her hand. “Eve. I won’t betray her, or you. I swear to you.”
“Okay. You’re in.” She picked up her coffee. “I’m going to start by telling you she was clean. There’s no evidence that she was on the take or in anybody’s pocket. All evidence is to the contrary. She ended her relationship with Alex Ricker in Atlanta. Her only connection to him was friendship.”
“Did he kill her?”
“It’s not tipping that way. It’s reading like she was killed because of him, but not by him, and not with his knowledge, not through his orders, his wishes. I think Max Ricker ordered it done to punish the son, to screw with him.”
“He killed her to . . . Yes, I can see that.” When he picked up his coffee, Morris’s hand remained steady. “I can easily see that now.”
“To do it, he’d need someone close to Alex, and someone close to Col—to Ammy,” she corrected. “I have two e-detectives on their way to Omega now. I think Ricker’s got someone up there covering his visitor and communication log. I think he’s been in touch, and he’s been orchestrating this—maybe more than this. I’m going to see Alex in the morning—but more, I’m going to see his personal assistant. That’s the guy I’m looking at. Nobody’s closer to Alex than this guy, this Rod Sandy. On the other part, I’m looking at her squad.”
“One of her squad?” Morris set his cup down again. “Jesus. Jesus.”
“It was an inside hit—inside her world, inside Alex Ricker’s. I know it.”
For a long moment, he stared at the fire. Stared in silence.
“I didn’t think you were so close. I didn’t believe you’d gotten this far. I should’ve known better. What can I do?”
“You can spend some time tonight thinking about anything she told you about the people she worked with. Little things: comments, observations, complaints, jokes. Anything you remember. Anything you observed personally when you went to see her at work, when you joined her for a drink, for a meal with anyone in her squad. Note it down.”
“I will. I can do that.”
“And try to sleep. You’re no good to me if your brain’s fuzzed up with exhaustion. Think, note, sleep. I’m heading out in the morning to interview Alex and his PA. Send anything to my unit here, and I’ll review. I can talk to you more about it when I get back.”
His eyes held hers, and they were sharp again—the dullness honed away by purpose. “All right. I’ll start right away.”
“Why don’t I take you up?” Roarke rose.
“I was just coming to do so.” Summerset walked in. “Let me show you your room, Dr. Morris, and you can tell me if there’s anything else you need.”
“Thank you.” Morris looked back at Eve. “I have what I need.”
As Morris left with Summerset, Roarke skimmed a hand over Eve’s hair. “You’re no good to me if your brain’s fuzzed up with exhaustion. I don’t know how you could choke those words out without them burning off your tongue. Nicely done, though. He’ll will himself to sleep because of it.”
“That’s the plan. I need to finish up, and stow the murder board. I won’t have him wander into my office and see that.” She smiled at him as she rose. “It was nice what you did, seeing that he stayed here tonight.”
Roarke took her hand. “We’re family.”
Somewhere in the dim hours of the morning, Eve felt herself being lifted. She managed to focus about the time Roarke carried her into the elevator from her office.
“Damn it, I conked. What time is it?”
“Around two, fuzzy-brain.”
“Sorry. Sorry.”
“It happens I got caught up myself, and the work took longer than I’d anticipated. I just surfaced myself.”
“Oh.” She yawned. “Maybe I should be carrying you.”
“Easy to say now that I’m hauling you into the bedroom.” Crossing it, he dumped her unceremoniously on the bed. “And I doubt either of us have the energy for a sexy new nightgown.”
She managed to pull off a boot, toss it. “I don’t know. I could fuel up if you put one on.”
“Aren’t you the funny one when you’re asleep on your feet?”
She tossed the second boot. “I’m not on my feet.” She dragged off her shirt, wriggled out of her pants. Then crawled up the bed. “Screw nightgowns,” she muttered, then snuggled down in her underwear.
When Roarke slipped in beside her, she was already asleep again.
In the dream, Coltraine circled Eve’s murder board. She wore a pale blue sweater and trimly tailored pants, and her weapon at her hip.
“I worked murder cases a couple of times,” she said. “Not as primary, but part of a team. A break-in or mugging gone bad, that kind of thing. It always depressed me. I can’t say I ever thought someone would be working my murder.”
“Who does?”
Coltraine smiled over at Eve. “Good point. You know more about me now than you did when you started.”
“That’s usually the way it works.”
“Some of it you’re getting through Li’s eyes. You can’t trust that a hundred percent.”
“No, but he won’t lie.”
“No, he won’t.” Coltraine moved over to where Eve sat at her desk, then leaned a hip on it. “I used to think you had to be cold to be a murder cop. Cold enough to walk in death every day, or nearly every day. To pick through lives, uncover all the secrets of people who couldn’t hide them anymore. But I was wrong. You have to be able to control the heat, but there has to be heat. Otherwise, you wouldn’t give a damn, not really. You wouldn’t care enough to do what you have to do to chase murder.”
“Sometimes it takes the cold.”
“Maybe. I know more about you now, too, seeing as you’ve got me stuck in your head. You struggle with the law, because you have such intense and marrow-deep respect for it. Such strong belief. But it’s the victim who pulls you, the victim who might have you question that line of law. More even than justice, and justice is your faith.”
“This isn’t about me.”
“You know it is. We’re as intimate as lovers now. Cop/victim. I’m one of the faces in your head now, in your dreams. You never forget them, no matter how many there are. That’s your burden, and your gift. You let Li in, when the rules and regs come down against that. He’s too close. But you’ve blurred the rules and regs because he’s a victim, too. And he needed it. It’s the cold part of you that’s questioning that now, in the back of your mind. And it’s the heat that knows it’s right.”
“Which part of you walked away from Alex Ricker?”
“That’s a question, isn’t it?” Coltraine rose, bent down to stroke Galahad as he bumped against her leg. “Nice cat.”
“How about an answer?”
“You’re wondering if I walked because he didn’t love me enough to pull back from that line. To show me how much I mattered. Or if I walked because I remembered I was a cop, and I had a duty to that line of the law.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Eve shrugged. “You walked, and that’s what plays here.”
“It matters to you, because of Li. It matters because of the badge. And it matters because you wonder what you would’ve done, if Roarke hadn’t shown you how much you mattered.”
“Not altogether. One and two, that’s true. But the last? He shows me every day. I think I get how much you hurt when Alex didn’t, because I don’t have to wonder. I know. And I don’t think it was the cop who walked. I think the cop came after. I think, maybe, you were a better cop once you came here.”
“That’s nice. Thanks. Still, I wasn’t a good enough cop to keep myself from being taken out with my own damn weapon.”
“Yeah, that’s a bitch. But I’m looking at you, Detective. I’m looking at the way I think this set you up. And I’m thinking you didn’t have a chance in hell.”
“Well.” Coltraine set her hands on her hips. “That’s a real comfort to me now.”
“Best I got.”
A soft spring drizzle greeted Eve when she strode outside to meet Baxter. She watched him whip his snazzy two-seater down the drive and jerked a thumb at the unsnazzy body of her own vehicle.
“Aw, come on, Dallas, why take your latest hunk of junk when I’ve got my primo?”
“Official business, and I’m driving.”
“A man’s gotta haul his ass out of bed on a rainy Saturday, and he can’t even set it down in a decent ride.” He grumbled all the way, but transferred his ass from one car to the other. “Well, nice seats, I gotta say.”
“Is your ass all comfy now?”
“Actually it is. Surprising how . . . what, whoa.” He leaned forward to goggle at the dash. “Look at this! Sizzling Jesus, this heap is loaded. It’s—”
He broke off, flung back against the seat as she poured it on down the drive. “And she fucking moves, baby! This is not departmental issue. I am not a fool.”
“Depends on who you’re asking. And I have the option, per regs, of using my personal ride if it meets code. Just like you use that toy back there.”
“Dallas, you have depths I’ve never plumbed.”
“You never plumbed any of my depths.”
“That’s your loss, sister. And Peabody never said a word about this ride.”
Eve actually winced as she remembered. “She hasn’t seen it yet. So you’ll keep it zipped about it. Otherwise, she’ll get all whiny about not seeing it first, or some such shit. Partners can be ass pains.”
“Not mine. Boy’s a jewel. So, you figure Ricker Junior’s PA and bestest pal fucked him over and killed Coltraine.”
“Killed her or helped set her up for it. And set up Alex Ricker for good measure.”
“Bestest pals can be ass pains.”
She had to laugh. “You can’t begin to know. We’ll work them separate. Start out straight interview. Just going over details. Then I’m going to peel Sandy off, leave you on Ricker. I want to heat him up, and I don’t want his bestest pal getting in the way.”
“Works for me. You really don’t figure Junior’s in it? Motive’s there, opportunity, even with the alibi. All he had to do was snap his fingers.”
“If he was going to snap them, he’d have snapped them long-distance. His old man set him up, it’s just like him. Once we pin Sandy, he’s going to flip. He’s a turncoat, so he’ll turn again. And we’ll skewer whoever Ricker has in the Eighteenth Squad.”
“I hate it’s a cop. But yeah, I went through the files, your notes. It’s gotta be.”
Eve’s in-dash beeped. “Dallas.”
“Callendar reporting from Omega.” Callendar’s face, tired eyes, major grin, filled the screen. “There was some delay at docking, but Sisto and I are in. We’re cleared and logged, and about to be escorted straight to Communications. The warden’s authorized us access to . . . well, pretty much everything.”
“Get me something, Callendar.”
“If it’s here, we’ll get it. Man-o, this place is grim. You ever been here?”
“No.”
“Good choice. Even the staff and admin areas are grim. I bet if you gave kids a mandatory tour of this place, they’d never so much as think about boosting somebody’s airboard.” She glanced away, signaled. “They’re ready for us.”
“I want to hear the minute you have anything. Even half of anything.”
“Cha. Back when. Callendar out.”
“Cha?” Eve repeated.
“As in ‘gotcha.’ ” Baxter rolled his eyes. “E-geeks.”
Eve shook her head, in perfect accord. “E-geeks.”
She swung to the curb at Ricker’s building. “On duty,” she said and preened a little when her light flashed on.
“Solid.”
“If we wrap this, I’ll show you how she verticals as we head back.”
She badged her way in, moved straight to the elevator when the doorman said they were already cleared and expected by Mr. Ricker.
He met them in the foyer. “Lieutenant.”
“Mr. Ricker. Detective Baxter. We appreciate you making time to answer a few more questions.”
His tone was as polite and neutral as Eve’s. “I want to cooperate in any way I can.”
“As discussed, we’d also like to speak to Mr. Sandy.”
“Yes. He’s probably in the kitchen, getting coffee. Please sit down. I’ll get him.”
“Prime digs,” Baxter commented as he looked around. “And they say crime doesn’t pay.”
“Only idiots say that.”
“The world’s full of idiots.”
Alex came back alone. “Sorry, he’s generally an early riser, so I assumed . . . He must be upstairs. Excuse me.”
As Alex started up, Eve and Baxter exchanged glances.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Baxter murmured.
“Somebody’s gone rabbit. Goddamn it. Routine follow-up, what spooked him? There’s nothing here to make him bolt, risk his position, turn our suspicions. It’s stupid.”
“Lieutenant.” Alex came to the top of the stairs, and she saw it in the pale set of his face. “Rod isn’t here. His bed hasn’t been slept in. I won’t object if you want to look for yourself.”
Damn right they would. Eve started up. “When did you last see him?”
“Last night, about eight. He had a date. But he knew you were expected this morning. It’s not like him to miss an appointment. And he’s not answering his ’link. I just tried it.”
Eve walked to the doorway of Sandy’s room. “Who’s the date?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”
She moved past Alex to check the closet, then frowned. “His things are still here. Anything missing, that you can tell?”
“Whatever he wore last night—ah, let me think. He had on a brown leather jacket, black pants, I think. I can’t recall what color shirt. Casual. A casual date. His clothes are here, as far as I can tell. But why wouldn’t they be? He had no reason to leave, and wouldn’t leave without telling me.”
“Maybe it was a sudden decision,” Baxter suggested with just enough sarcasm to have Alex turn frigid eyes on him.
“He doesn’t make sudden decisions, and he works for me. He’s my oldest friend, and he works for me. Obviously, the date turned into something more than casual, and he stayed the night. He’s overslept and doesn’t hear his ’link. I’m perfectly willing to answer any questions you have for me now, and I’ll see to it that Rod makes himself available to you as soon as he gets back.”
He turned to Eve then. “I didn’t contact my lawyers. They don’t even know you’re here. I’m not playing you. Rod just—”
“Got lucky?” Eve suggested. “Baxter, wait for me downstairs.”
“Sure.”
“Rod’s done nothing but be careless about an appointment,” Alex began.
“Stow it. Who was your driver yesterday?”
Biting and cold replaced polite and neutral. “And that’s relevant because?”
“Because I want to know, Mr. Cooperation. Who drove you to your meet with Roarke?”
“Carmine. Carmine Luca,” he added when Eve simply stared. “He’s downstairs, in an apartment I keep as staff quarters.”
“Bring him up.”
“I don’t understand why you want to interview my driver.”
“You’ll understand after I do. Bring him up, or call your lawyers and tell them to meet you downtown.”
Eyes, already cool, went to ice. “Maybe I misjudged the situation. I’ll bring him up, and we’ll see if you make me understand. Otherwise, unless you’ve got a warrant, you’re gone.”
Alex pulled out a ’link as he pointed Eve toward the door. “Carmine, I need you up here.”
Within minutes, the big, burly Carmine lumbered in. He had, Eve thought, a face like stone that had been battered for decades by wind and water. Tough, pitted, and blank.
“These officers would like to ask you some questions, Carmine. Answer them, is that clear?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Ricker.”
“When did Rod Sandy ask you about Mr. Ricker’s meeting with Roarke?”
“I don’t know about any meeting.”
Eve looked at Alex. “Would you like to make it clearer, or should I?”
“Carmine, I want you to answer the lieutenant’s questions. I had a meeting with Roarke yesterday morning, on Coney Island. You drove me.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Ricker, but I thought—”
“Don’t think,” Alex said, with a kindness in his tone Eve hadn’t expected. “I appreciate it, Carmine, but we’re just trying to clear something up. So you can answer the questions. Unless I say otherwise. All right?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Ricker.”
“When did Rod Sandy ask you about Mr. Ricker’s meeting with Roarke.”
“Which time?”
“All the times.”
“Okay, well, he asked me about it before. Making sure and all that everything was set up. Mr. Sandy makes sure things are set up for Mr. Ricker. So I told him how it was all go, and we had the car ready, and the scanners—” He stopped, looked at Alex.
“It’s all right.”
“And the coffee in the mini-AC. And all like that.”
“He asked you about it afterward, too?”
“He asked, after, how Mr. Ricker was feeling. You know, his state of mind and stuff. And I said how it went okay, and maybe Mr. Ricker seemed a little down on the drive back. But it went okay, and there wasn’t no trouble or nothing. I said how it seemed like Mr. Ricker and Roarke got along pretty good, and how they talked awhile. He worries about you, Mr. Ricker. It’s Mr. Sandy, so I didn’t figure it was talking out of turn or nothing.”
“It’s all right, Carmine.”
“What else did you tell him?” Eve asked.
Carmine’s gaze slid to Alex again, and again Alex gave the assent. “Not much to tell. We had a beer, and we were talking about the game some, and he was saying, sort of thinking out loud, like, that Mr. Ricker and Roarke would do this business deal after all. So I said, I did-n’t think it was any kind of business deal. How I didn’t catch much, ’cause you’re not supposed to listen, but the breeze carried the voices sometimes. How it seemed they were mostly talking about Miss Coltraine and Mr. Ricker’s father, and how maybe—”
“Maybe?”
“Mr. Ricker.”
“Keep going,” Alex demanded, not so kindly now.
“Well, it sounded like maybe Mr. Ricker thought his father might’ve done something. I was just talking to Mr. Sandy, Mr. Ricker.”
“Yes, you were,” Eve said before Alex could speak. “Did you talk to him about anything else?”
“Not really. I didn’t hear that much. I wasn’t trying to hear, I swear. I guess, now that I think about it, Mr. Sandy asked a lot of questions, and he wasn’t exactly happy I didn’t know more than I knew. I just said how at the end you and Roarke shook hands, and that was that.”
“That’s fine, Carmine, thank you,” Alex said. “You can go back to your quarters now.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Ricker. If I did anything—”
“You didn’t. We’re fine.”
“One more thing,” Eve said. “Did you drive Mr. Sandy anywhere yesterday?”
“No. I drive Mr. Ricker, unless Mr. Ricker says different.”
“Did you or anyone drive Mr. Sandy anywhere this week?”
“No. We only got the one car here, and I drive it. Right, Mr. Ricker?”
“That’s right, Carmine. You can go.”
Alex turned, walked into the living area, sat. “You think Rod’s working for my father.”
“And you don’t?” Eve countered.
“We’ve known each other more than a dozen years. We’re friends. Friends. He knows nearly everything there is to know about me. He knew what Ammy meant to me. You can’t expect me to believe he’s part of this.”
“Why didn’t you tell him the details of your meeting with Roarke?”
“It was private. Even friends don’t share everything.”
“I’d say, from the way Sandy pumped Carmine, he doesn’t agree with that.”
Alex pressed his fingers to his eyes. “So he was never really my friend. Just another tool. All these years.”
“Maybe, or maybe one picked up and turned more recently.”
“If he killed Ammy—”
“Could he have left the apartment that night, without security picking it up?”
“There are always ways,” Alex said. “Yes. The son of a bitch. The son of a bitch said to me, that night, he said I should go out, take a long walk, hit Times Square, get some energy from the crowds. So I did.”
“He indicated he thought you were in the apartment all night.”
“We lie, Lieutenant.” Alex clipped out the words. “You know that. I assumed he was covering me, so I did the same and told you I’d gone out when he was upstairs. That he didn’t know I’d gone out. Just a couple of convenient lies. I hadn’t hurt her. I would never have hurt her. So we covered each other. He set me up, my longtime friend, so I’m out walking New York, having a beer, just one more face in the crowd, while he’s killing her. For what? For what?”
“Where would he go?”
“A thousand places. If I knew, I swear I’d tell you. He convinced me to come to New York,” Alex explained. “To come now—for business, for her. Convinced me I needed to see her, talk with her. He knew how I felt, was feeling. I confided in him, like I would a brother. And he used it against me.”
“I want all the data on his financials. All his financials. You understand me?”
“Yes. You’ll have it.”
“He takes trips, vacations, and so on without you. Time off where you wouldn’t keep tabs on him.”
“Of course.”
Times he could’ve visited Omega, Eve thought. “Do you know who your father has in Coltraine’s squad?”
“No. I don’t know that he has anyone, not that I can confirm. He was always proprietary about that kind of thing.”
“What did you and your father talk about when you visited him on Omega?”
“Nothing that applies to this.”
“Everything applies to this.”
Anger flashed across his face. “Understand I’m under no obligation to answer you, or to cooperate in this matter. But I’ll tell you that I made it clear to my father I wouldn’t be back, wouldn’t communicate with him in any way. That I’d come to see him only because I wanted to look at him—this last time—and know he was exactly where I wanted him to be.”
“And his response?”
“He didn’t need me, or want me. He promised to bring me down, and when he was done with me I’d have nothing. As nothing was what I deserved. That was the gist.”
Alex closed his eyes, fought for control. “What could he have offered Rod to have him do this? What could he have promised him he couldn’t have asked me for?”
“You’re going to tell me everything you know about Sandy, everything not on his official data. And you’re going to get me those financials. While you do, Detective Baxter’s going to turn his room inside out. Record on,” she ordered. “Mr. Ricker, do we have your permission to search the quarters of Rod Sandy on this premises, at this time?”
“Yes, you do. You have my permission to search his room, my permission to hunt him down like a dog. My permission to do whatever it takes to take him down. Is that enough?”
“It’s a good start. Baxter.”
“I’m on it.”
Eve sat. “Tell me about Rod Sandy.”