She had Amara and the imprisoned domestics transported, with medical supervision, to Central. And sent the three guards Lowenbaum’s team had handled back with them in another transport.
“I need to do the official on-site on the body. We’re going to need the EDD team to go over the electronics, flag for transfer.”
“Place this size?” Feeney glanced around. “We’re gonna need a bigger boat.”
Due to Roarke’s fondness for classic vids, she knew that one, nearly laughed. “Yeah. First priority is any and all auction data. The more we know there, the wider the net.”
“We’ll get on it. I’ll pull in some of the locals to assist.”
He glanced over at Devereaux. “I’d rather see him rotting in prison for a few decades, but I can’t say justice wasn’t fucking served, and on a damn platter. You want one of the locals to give you a hand with him?”
“No, I’ve got it. When I’m done, they can bag and tag him. Then I need to head back.”
“Another long day, but this one? It’s a good one.”
She nodded and carried her field kit over to the body. For an instant, her father’s face shimmered over Devereaux’s.
Then it faded, and she got to work.
When she finished, made the arrangements, she stepped out of the dining room, gave herself a minute to wander and breathe.
She supposed the estate rivaled Roarke’s castle in size and scope. Apparently, Devereaux hadn’t gone for antiques or what she could consider cozy spaces. Everything here was hard, bright, new.
His money—or his ancestors’ money—hadn’t satisfied him, she thought. It hadn’t been enough for him to own a successful, respected business, to own precious things. He’d needed to own people.
Women and girls.
When Roarke found her, he cupped her face, kissed her lightly.
“I’m fine,” she told him.
“I see that. I didn’t have a moment to tell you the way you handled Amara showed exactly who you are. A quick stun would’ve been simpler and quicker for you.”
“She’d been hurt enough.”
“She won’t forget you. Now I’m more than pleased to tell you we’ve come across a treasure trove of data on the auction.”
“He pulled the strings there, too,” she said. “Probably set up a different arm, shell, whatever to keep from muddying things up, but he headed that up.”
“Got it in one, didn’t you?” Now Roarke angled his head. “But I see you already suspected something of the sort.”
“Power. All of it came down to power. His. I’m curious to see if Beaty had a piece of that, too. I’m thinking no, no because it’s too much power sharing, and that was his greed. But I’ll find out either way.”
“With the data here? You’ll have the dates of every transaction—through previous auctions and through Red Swan. The buyers, the victims, the price paid. All of it.”
The satisfaction of that, the relief of it, had her scrubbing her face with her hands, walking around the ornate entrance hall.
“The current auction, can we still play that out? Some of the buyers could be new to this, but that doesn’t mean they don’t pay for attempting to buy a human being.”
“We can, of course. Feeney and McNab are already feeding data to Central.”
“Good. Good. We’ll give it all to the feds. I’m going to request Teasdale use Willowby as NYPSD liaison on it. She earned it.”
“A very good call, Lieutenant. I’m not especially needed here at this point, so when you’re ready, I’m with you.”
“I’m ready now.” More than ready, she admitted, to get out and away from this hard, bright house. “And you have to change and go to work.”
“I do have to go in for a bit of time, but I don’t need to change. I’m the boss, after all. But I’ve had a change of clothes sent in for you.”
“Why?”
“When you held Amara, his blood was still wet on her. And so on you.”
“Oh.” She glanced down, blew out a breath at the bloodstains on her shirt, her jacket. “You know what? Let it ride. Let them see it when I have them in the box.”
She checked in with Peabody for status, then contacted Yancy to arrange for Dorian to come in to Central.
“He says she nailed Beaty,” Eve said as she strapped in for the flight back. “But we’re going to add the flesh-and-blood ID there, and see if she, or any of them, can do the same with some of the others.”
She sat back, closed her eyes a moment. “We may not find out who shoved that spike of wood into Mina Cabot. Not the single individual responsible for that.”
“They’re all responsible, aren’t they?”
“That’s how I see it. That’s how I expect the courts to see it. But.”
He reached over, rubbed his hand over hers. “What that brave child began, you’re finishing. There’ll be payment, Eve, and with payment, justice. And with that payment and justice, some closure for her family.”
She could see them, the mother, the father, the brother, huddled together in a pool of grief.
“They’ll never get over it.”
“I don’t know how anyone could, but what you’ve done will help them get through it. And surely there’s a young girl out there right now who’d be a target, tonight, tomorrow, next week. Now she’ll live the rest of her life never knowing that. Never knowing she owes that life to Mina and Dorian, to you and all the rest who fought for her. It matters, I think, she’ll never know.”
She looked at him, loved him. “Maybe she’ll grow up to be a total asshole.”
And he looked at her, loved her. “Maybe she’ll grow up to be a damn good cop.”
She considered. “I guess it’s all fifty-fifty.”
When they landed at Central—sweet relief—she climbed out, and he lifted off to fly to his Midtown office.
By the time she got down to Homicide through the cop buzz of a major bust, she wanted five minutes of quiet and coffee. She’d take two minutes if she could have a giant coffee.
But she ran straight into Reo.
“Good, you’re back. Jenkinson and Reineke are working one in Interview A, Carmichael and Santiago have another in B, Peabody’s with Willowby—who’s splitting her time between dealing with the victims in conference room three and Interview. I’ve got—”
“Conference room—the working one.” There went two minutes in her office, Eve thought as she strode down the hall.
“I’ve already got one who’s ready and willing to flip on the others,” Reo continued. “Apparently, she was friendly with Marlene Williamson, and she’s been ready to bolt since they terminated Williamson. She’ll testify, and she’s talked her ass off already.”
“What did you give her?”
“Twenty in—that’s solid, no wiggle—on-planet.” Reo held up a hand. “She’s already rolled on Beaty and a host of others. Among those others are a few we don’t have—but now will very shortly.”
In the conference room, Eve headed straight to the coffee.
“I’ve just finalized the deal,” Reo continued. “It’s a win, Dallas. You’ve got a lot of hard cases in this, and we’re not going to get a bouquet of confessions out of them. What she’s feeding us will give us a mountain for the trials.”
“I’m going to get a confession out of Iris Beaty.”
“You’re going to have to go through her lawyer. Word is she’s called in big guns.”
“Name.”
“Sampson Merit, great big guns with offices in East Washington, New York, and New L.A.”
“Did she have him on tap?”
“I’d say yes, as he’s already here and consulting with her.”
“Can we freeze her finances?”
“We’d have to analyze and separate what she’d earned legally prior to the Academy, then—”
Eve waved that away, pulled out her comm. “Callendar, whatever you’re doing, stop that and do this. Sampson Merit, lawyer, New York, East Washington, New L.A. Dig in, dig deep. Find me the connection to Iris Beaty and the Academy. Get me the dirt because he’s going to be dirty.”
“Got my shovel right here,” Callendar said before Eve clicked off.
“I’ve heard a lot of things about Merit, Dallas, but never any whiff of this sort of thing.”
Eve shook her head. “She had him on tap, and he jumped. She’s got something on him.” Eve pointed to the board. “This is ugly stuff, and it’ll get uglier in the media, and dragged out. A big deal like that doesn’t need the money, doesn’t need to risk his rep this way. Maybe he’s just a shitbag, and he’ll jump this fast at the idea of a case that’s going to pay big and get him in on-screen. But it’s just as likely the other way. Never caught a whiff? How much do you want to bet plenty will say the same when we start arresting the really rich assholes who buy kids online?”
“That’s a fair point.”
“Catch me up, will you?”
“Doggett, the former Baltimore cop, picked up and being transferred here. Maxine Pryor, picked up and currently being grilled—she settled for a less shiny lawyer, but she’s got some gloss.”
As she ran it down, Eve paced and absorbed.
“Let Beaty stew awhile longer. We’re going to run through as many of the others as we can. I’ve got Dorian Gregg coming in. Plenty of the other victims can ID her, but I want to give this to Dorian first. Mira can decide if any of the others are ready to do the same.
“She’s in three?”
“Last I checked. I should get back, keep it rolling. The boss and two more APAs are observing and serving.”
Eve walked down to the conference room, eased the door open. She saw about a hundred girls, some huddled together, some sitting still and quiet. And she recognized many of the faces from her board.
She signaled to Mira.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she began when Mira crossed to her.
“Not at all. We’re making progress—getting names, evaluating, even contacting parents, guardians. The longest held we know of at this point was taken two years ago, the shortest was taken only yesterday.”
“The one we rescued from the infirmary?”
“Yes, nine years old, abducted from outside of Columbus, Ohio, walking back from her piano lesson.”
“I want to put Beaty and some of the others in lineup. I need you to decide which ones can handle that, can handle doing some IDs.”
She spotted the girl who’d fought her in the Academy sitting with her arm around a younger kid. And took a chance by crossing the room, crouching in front of her.
“Remember me, Lottie?”
“Yeah.”
“Carrie. You need anything?”
“I want to go home,” Carrie said.
“We’re working on it.” She looked back at the other girl. “Want to pay them back?”
“Fucking A.”
“Good. I’m going to send for you in a bit. You’re going to take a look at some people. They won’t be able to see or hear you. And if you recognize anybody, you just say so.”
“I don’t leave her.”
“Okay.”
Eve started to straighten up.
“You’ve got blood on your shirt. Is it some of theirs?”
“Yeah, it is.”
“Good.”
Eve walked back. “That one,” she said to Mira. “She can handle it. The one with her, I don’t know.”
“Carrie. We’ve notified her parents, and they’re on their way.”
“You wouldn’t have done that without taking a look at the parents.”
“Everything points to them being good people. They have two other children, older kids.”
“Let them know the one with her? She wouldn’t leave her behind. She wouldn’t leave her and fought to get to her. Let them know that if I don’t get a chance to speak with them.”
“I will.”
“I’ll let you know when we’re ready for the lineup.”
She walked down to Observation and found her commander stepping out.
“Let’s use your office,” he said, and led the way. Inside, he gestured to her AC. “If I could.”
“Absolutely.” She programmed coffee.
“The operation in France rescued forty-two victims and arrested eight suspects. One officer is currently hospitalized and in serious condition. Other injuries, on all sides, are reported as minor.”
He drank coffee. “Devereaux is dead.”
“He was dead when we got to him, yes, sir. Amara Gharbi, age twenty, was abducted from Tunisia nearly eight years ago. She was collared, Commander, as were the other victims we rescued from that location. Gharbi was in severe distress, in fear for her life when she picked up the knife from the table. She—”
“You don’t need to sell me, Lieutenant.”
“We have the names of all the victims rescued from the Devereaux estate, none are minors, all state they were abducted at various ages and trained at either the Academy in New York or the facility in France before being sold and/or rented. Devereaux raped all of them upon their arrival at the estate, multiple times, and often held what he called parties where his guests could also rape and abuse them. At this point in time, all but Gharbi were designated as domestics, which their statements agree was his routine. He recently traded in another woman.”
“I see. Do we know her status or location?”
“Not yet. EDD is searching his records.”
“All right then. Some of these subjects will also face federal charges. I’ve spoken with Agent Teasdale. She’ll consult with you when you’re ready.”
“I appreciate the leeway, sir.”
“You took considerable,” he reminded her. “And your judgment was correct.”
“Thank you, sir.” She turned at the tap on her doorjamb. “Detective Yancy. Dorian?”
“In the bullpen, Lieutenant, with Ro and Ms. Vera, from CPS. She did great. If I could show you?”
She gestured him in, waited while he opened his sketchbook. “She dug on the hand sketches, so I went with that rather than comp generated.”
“That’s Iris Beaty. That’s damn good.”
“Did one full length.” He flipped a page, had Eve’s blood pumping. She wanted Beaty in the box.
“Really damn good,” Eve murmured.
“She hits details.” Yancy pushed at his curling mop of hair. “I’ve got three more suspects, and I think she could give us more, but you said it was time to bring her in.”
“We’re going to line them up for her. Show me the rest. That’s the night matron, the dead one. The doctor, and I don’t have a name on this one yet.”
“Cyril Gum,” Whitney supplied. “Santiago and Carmichael are interviewing him now, and he’s holding his line.”
“We’ll put him up for her, see how he holds it after that. Good work, Yancy. We’ll get copies for the file, get the originals to the PA.
“Sir, I need to review the interviews before I bring Beaty and her lawyer up. Reo tells me we’ve already flipped one.”
“Let me know when you’re ready, Dallas. And good work, as usual, Detective.”
“Buy me some time, Yancy, and take her through another. I want her occupied.”
“Glad to do it.”
When he left, Eve sat and began her review.
An hour into it, she paused when she heard Peabody’s clump.
“Please, coffee, please.”
Eve jerked a thumb at the AutoChef.
“Philamenia Horowitz,” Peabody said as she got her coffee. “Cleaning supervisor and Domestic instructor. She taught those trainees selected as Domestic Slaves. Three years in, and you know what? You know the fuck what? She has daughters of her own, teenage daughters, but she did this. Needed the job—boo-hoo—needed the money. Never hurt anyone, taught useful skills. Sniveling bitch.”
“Status?”
Peabody gulped coffee. “Cracked her like an egg. And I got to be bad cop. Willowby looks like a kid, so I got to come in hard. She flipped on Beaty among others, tried to claim she had no idea what was really going on, and we shoveled out that bullshit. Carlyse, one of the APAs, dealt her a hard twenty. See how she likes it.”
“Where’s Willowby?”
“She’s checking in with Feeney, something about the auction and the change of status there. We didn’t have time to talk about it. What’s the change?”
“Dead Devereaux ran it. Something Beaty may or may not have been aware of.”
“So he was double-dipping.”
“That’s one way to put it. He could buy, sell, trade, collect the membership fees, take the auction house percentage, and preview all the other entries. And I’m thinking an enterprising soul like him? Maybe you supplement with a little blackmail here and there.”
“So like quadruple-dipping. How about the woman who stabbed Dead Devereaux?”
“I have to check on her, but no charges. Her family in Tunisia—parents, two sibs—has been or will shortly be contacted. For now at least, we have to leave the bulk of the victims to Mira, the therapists, and SVU while we keep cracking those eggs.”
“I’m ready for that.” Seriously ready, Peabody did a quick boxer’s shuffle. “Who’s up first?”
Eve checked the time and decided she couldn’t wait any longer. “I’m putting Beaty and some of the others in lineups. Check with Mira. She was going to select some of the victims she thought could handle it. I’ve got Dorian with Yancy.”
The battle light in Peabody’s eye went soft and sober. “You’re giving them back power. The power these people took from them.”
“Positive eyewitness identification is the purpose, but that’s a solid side benefit. I’ll set it up, get Dorian. Meet me with the others.”
She left it to the PA to roll over defense lawyerly objections. She didn’t mind the delay, as it gave her a chance to see Sampson Merit’s tap dance. She started with one of the hard cases, Frank Bestor, security, an egg who’d yet to show the thinnest crack.
Dorian stood with her arms folded as behind the one-way glass men filed out. “Number three, that one,” she said without hesitation. “I saw him around.”
“Around where?”
“The Academy, where do you think? And sometimes he’d come into the studio and watch. He’d meet with Auntie in her office, mostly during the day, but … Can you make him say something?”
“What do you want him to say?”
“Um. Spread out and find those bitches.”
She stepped to the intercom. “Number three, step forward. Repeat this. Spread out and find those bitches.”
He curled his lip, but repeated the phrase.
“That’s him, that’s him. He was in the tunnels that night, and outside when we were hiding. He said that before Mina ran. She ran because he said that, and I couldn’t run.”
“Number three, step back. Dorian, you’re going to step out with Dr. Mira.”
“Why?”
“I have others who need to look at the lineup.”
“But I said it was him. If you don’t believe—”
“I absolutely believe you, but why should you have all the fun? The more of you who ID him, the more he’ll pay.”
Out of six witnesses, Eve got five positive IDs. She worked her way up the chain, security, matrons, instructors, medical personnel, until she came to what she considered the grand prize.
When Beaty filed out with the next group, Dorian let out a gasp.
“Number four, four, four. Number four. That’s Auntie. That’s her. I swear to God that’s her.”
“Okay. Take a breath. Take a few of them.”
“She has to pay.”
“She will. Look at her. She already is.”
“It’s not enough.”
“It will be. You’ve given me everything I need to make it be enough. Now you have to leave it to me. You’re going to go back to the school now, and you’re going to live your life. You’re going to make something of it because that makes her pay, too. Every smart thing you do, from this moment on, makes her pay.”
“How?”
“Because she wanted to take it all from you, and instead you’re taking it all back. She tried to make you nothing, and you’ll make yourself something.”
Tears gleamed and burned. “Mina’s still dead.”
“I can’t change that. But everything you do now gives Mina’s bravery meaning. Don’t forget that. Go on out. Rochelle’s waiting for you.”
Dorian took one last look at Beaty. “Rot in hell,” she said before she walked out.
“Well done, Eve.”
Eve shook her head at Mira. “It’s not over yet.”
“No, but that young, damaged girl is already healing, and you’re a part of why.”
“I didn’t have half her guts at that age.”
“I completely disagree.”
Eve just took a few of those breaths herself and called in the next witness.
With Iris Beaty, she got a solid six out of six.
“We’re going to wrap her up and wrap her tight,” Reo stated. “No deals,” she added before Eve could speak. “I’m going to love having a chair at the table at her trial, and I’d bank on us against Merit on this one, all the way.”
“I’m taking her in the box, and don’t bet against me breaking her.”
“I never do.”
“I’d hoped to shake things up with the lawyer, but—” Eve broke off when Callendar ran in. “But hell, what have you got?”
“It took a frigging backhoe, and—okay—with everybody tied up in the auction deal and the dead guy’s e’s, I gave Roarke a tag for a quick remote assist.”
“Results. We can talk method later.”
“Sampson Merit goes by deepdaddy online—at least as his underground handle for trolling kiddie porn sites, and for registering for the aforesaid auction. He’s participated in same—using different handles—for ten years we found so far. And—got more—he has a private residence on Long Island, not far from Devereaux’s, titled under another name, under a shell, under more bullshit. This is not one of the residences he shares with his wife of twenty-several years.”
“Deepdaddy?” Eve repeated.
Callendar bared her teeth. “Yeah, and sure, ick, but he’s in this. I tagged Feeney on the way down to you, and he’s looking to see if Merit helped him set up the not-so-legal stuff for the Academy, the auction.”
“Enough to arrest?” Eve asked Reo.
“Let me take a look at it, huddle with the boss. Give me twenty. Maybe thirty.”
“I’m putting them in the box.” And going to consult with Teasdale, she decided. “That’ll get you twenty, maybe thirty.”
“Send me everything, Callendar,” Reo said, on the move.
“Same goes. And good work, Detective.”
“Feels good. Feels like a damn good day.”
“Let’s keep that going.” Eve yanked out her comm. “Peabody, get Beaty and her lawyer in a box, meet me in my office, and move it.”
She got Reo her twenty, worked out strategy, then stepped into the box where Beaty, not looking her best in the orange jumpsuit, sat with her distinguished attorney.
“Record on. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, and Peabody, Detective Delia, entering Interview with Beaty, Iris, aka Swan, Iris, and her attorney of record, Merit, Sampson, on the matters of—” She blew out a breath, then read off the multiple case files.
“You’ve procrastinated on this matter for long enough,” Merit began. “I’ve already filed motions to—”
“I don’t much give a crap about your motions. Your client was arrested on-site where a hundred and thirty-six minors were held against their will, where evidence of physical, mental, and emotional abuse is mountainous, and where evidence of child trafficking, abductions, and murder are clear and present. You’re well aware of all this, Counselor.”
“My client categorically rejects these accusations, and has claimed her right to remain silent.”
“Your client has been positively identified in lineup by six witnesses as the woman known as Auntie, who ran the organization responsible for these abductions, forced imprisonment, torture, sexual abuse, and trafficking.”
He smiled thinly. “Witnesses, one presumes, who are minors, and who—by your account—have suffered emotional abuse. I doubt, very much, their coached testimony will hold up in court.”
Eve drew out a sketch. “You know who described you for the police artist? Dorian Gregg. She just keeps besting you, Iris.”
She pulled out others, tossed them on the table. “And all these, matrons—including the one you killed—instructors, security. Jesus Christ, I walked in—duly warranted—on a couple of prisoners, minor females, being videoed in bed. I know she’s got you by the short hairs, Merit, but you know she’s going down for this.”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
The brisk knock on the door made Eve smile. “I bet that’s going to explain it.” She rose, opened the door to Reo and two uniforms.
“Your warrant, Lieutenant, for the arrest of Sampson Merit on charges of child trafficking, child abuse of a sexual nature, fraud, conspiracy to commit the abduction of minors, enforced imprisonment of minors.”
He’d surged to his feet. “What nonsense is this?”
“It’s the naked truth, Deepdaddy. Officers, escort this human slimebag to Booking.”
“This is an outrage.”
“No, you are. And I bet when we find whoever you’re holding for your own sick pleasures at your hideaway on Long Island, they’ll agree. Get him out of my Interview room.”
When they muscled him out, Reo came in, sat.
“Reo, APA Cher, joining Interview. Well, oops, Iris, looks like you lost your lawyer. And now that we’ve been able to freeze at least the bulk of your accounts, good luck hiring another. You do have a right to an attorney, and we’ll provide you with same if you wish. Speak now.”
“Go to hell.”
“No, thanks. I like elbow room, and you and your people are really going to crowd the place. We’ve got you.” Eve leaned in. “We’ve got you cold. We have eyewitness identifications and accounts—and not all from minors. Several of your staff have flipped on you and others already. More will. We have your own records—meticulous ones. And your own security feed. We have your scouts, and those we haven’t taken yet, we will. Oh, and we took down your branch in Provence. Last I heard, lots of people talking and rolling and doing backflips to drag you down.”
Eve let out a happy sigh. “Now we’ve got your lawyer, and if he doesn’t grab a deal on this, I’m a monkey’s uncle. What does that mean?” she asked Peabody. “Isn’t a monkey’s uncle just another monkey? Discuss later.”
She shrugged it off. “You’ve been around the block—another stupid one—but you’ve been around and more than once. You know when you’re cooked.”
“I’ll make a deal,” Beaty said.
“Will you? We’ve got you, Iris. Why would we deal?”
“I’ll give you who financed it all, who created it all. For immunity on all charges, I’ll give you the top, and every single buyer and seller I know, and I know plenty. I could, hypothetically, start with Sampson Merit.”
“Merit’s already toasted, and immunity is never going to be on the table,” Reo told her. “Lower your expectations.”
“Why should I give you a thing then?”
“Try the prospect of doing several life sentences, without possibility of parole, in an off-planet facility.”
“Five years, on-planet.” Beaty folded her hands on the table like a woman in charge. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want to deal.”
“That’s not a deal, it’s a gift. I don’t know you well enough to give you a gift. Twenty years.” Reo held up a finger before Eve could object. “On-planet, if—and only if—your information leads to the identities, arrests, and prosecutions of those you name. That’s all I’ve been authorized to offer you by the office of the prosecuting attorney of New York. Take it or leave it.”
“Put it in writing.”
Reo rose; Eve shoved up and followed her out.
“Um, Dallas and Reo exiting Interview. Do you want something to drink while we wait, Ms. Beaty?”
Beaty flicked a smug glance at Peabody. “A dry martini would go down nicely. Sparkling water will suffice.”
“Interview pause as Peabody exits.”
Outside of Interview, she ditched the meek expression and did a happy dance to Vending.
When they came back, restarted the record, Beaty read the deal carefully, then signed it.
“Names,” Eve snapped. “Work your way up to the top.”
“Wade C. Younkin, international finance, numerous residences. Alice Ann Dobbs, shipping heiress, fifth generation.”
She had a hell of a long list, and though Eve recognized some from Feeney’s early report, she let Beaty state them all for the record.
When Beaty paused, Eve nudged. “Who murdered Mina Cabot?”
“Though I hold Matron Williamson and Nurse Parks responsible for the loss of a trainee we had invested heavily in, she was killed during an altercation with Devin Kunes, night security. The girl brought about her own death, literally running into that spear of wood when Kunes got it away from her. She injured three before he did so.”
Good for you, Mina, Eve thought.
“Hit the top.”
“Jonah K. Devereaux, owner of Reliable Delivery Service. The very top. His money founded the Academy, and its smaller European counterpart. It was his concept, and a brilliant one. A training facility, self-contained—to educate, instruct, improve those selected to serve and service. He enjoys the control, of course, and the benefits of owning a few—adult, as he isn’t personally into the young ones—slaves. But the revenue stream has been very rewarding.”
“From sales, rentals, the porn revenue.”
“Of course. A superior product will merit handsome profits. And we produced superior products.”
“You and Devereaux.”
“He had the funds, I had the experience and expertise.”
“Spell it out, Iris.”
And she did, the procedures, start to finish. Abductions, transportation, training, punishments, rewards, security. Every detail—on record.
“Devereaux, Devereaux, sounds familiar.” Eve pushed up, frowning, pacing. Then stopped. Smiled. “Oh yeah, that’s the rich, sadistic pervert I sent to the morgue this morning. He’s dead.”
“Dead? That’s impossible.”
“Possible. One of the women he abused decided she didn’t want to be a slave anymore. She didn’t want to be gangbanged at a party for a bunch of sick fucks. He got off easy. You won’t.”
Her lips quivered before she firmed them. “I don’t believe you. I personally selected every domestic and consort for Jonah.”
“Seeing’s believing.” Eve pulled out a crime scene photo. “I’m full of dumbass sayings today.”
Beaty sat, several moments, staring at the bloodied corpse of her longtime partner. “Jonah Devereaux was a visionary, and a friend.”
“One you were ready to toss over to us for a deal.”
“And a man who understood self-preservation.” She pushed the photo away with her fingertips. “You think I can’t do twenty?”
“Oh, I think you can do the twenty—though I doubt you’ll ever get to it. Could be wrong,” she said as she rose and opened the door. “Special Agent Teasdale, you’re up. FBI,” Eve said to Beaty. “Federal charges, numerous and heavy. All those abductions crossing state lines, the shipping of human minors over same, not to mention internationally.”
“We have a deal, on record, in writing.”
“And that deal holds.” Reo rose. “For New York. Federal charges? Out of our hands.”
“Oh, one more thing before we turn this over?” Eve paused at the door. “Your visionary friend? He ran the auction—the big one coming right up—as a side deal, charging the Academy fees, collecting them.”
“You’re lying!”
“Hey, he’s dead. Why would I bother? Over to you, Special Agent.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. Always a pleasure.”
“Back at you. Dallas, Reo, and Peabody exiting Interview. Record end.”
Eve waited long enough to watch two other agents escort Beaty out while Teasdale read off charges.
“I love when a plan works.” Eve rolled her shoulders. “And you’ve got to love when they just don’t see it coming. Get me this fucking Kunes guy, Peabody, and let’s crack him like an egg for Mina.”
“All over it!”
“That was good work, Dallas. We all did good work on this.”
“Not done yet, but yeah, all-around good work. She thought she’d skate. Do twenty, probably run some businesses from inside. They were nothing to her, Reo, those girls were nothing to her but profit margins. But she felt something for Devereaux, you could see it. She’d roll him flat to make a deal, but she felt something for him. Friendship, admiration.”
“More than she felt for the clients she gave up. Which we’re going to start knocking down like bowling pins. A favorite sport.”
“Bowling’s your favorite sport?”
“No, knocking bad guys down like bowling pins. Tag me if you need me on Kunes. I’ve got to get this to the boss. Buy you a drink later?”
“Sunday afternoon, our place, barbecue.”
“Yeah? I am so there.”
“How did that come out of my mouth?” Eve asked herself. Then went to her office for a hit of coffee before she took on the murderer of Mina Cabot.