“You had no right to murder eighteen people, to destroy eighteen families. Which one of us do you think is going to pay?”
“You’re cut off, sonny boy,” Baxter added. “Daddy’s closed the family bank—and that includes any interests you may hold in various arms of the family business. You got zilch.”
“I want to talk to my father. Now.”
“Sorry, you don’t get it. You’re under arrest. Your wants aren’t of concern. Your attorney is, of course, free to contact the senior Mr. Iler. Though I believe senior Mr. Iler will be disinclined, at this time to communicate. At all. At least until I speak with him again.”
As she spoke to Singa, she hardened her look, her tone. “When I do, if I tell him your client has given a clear and full confession on all charges, given us clear information on all details of his crimes, and the crimes of Sergeant Oliver Silverman, Mr. Iler may be inclined to pay the legal fees and expenses incurred by his son to date. Though it sounded to me as if he’d negotiate same, and hard.”
She shifted to Iler. “You think Singa’s going to work pro bono on a case he has to know by now is locked? Eighteen consecutive sentences, off-planet.”
“I’m not going off-planet. I can’t go off-planet. I have a condition. Richard, you said—”
“Did he tell you he could work it? Have that part off the table? Not happening, you fuck. The PA’s holding firm there. If the psych exam finds you have a ‘condition,’ you’ll be properly sedated for the trip to Omega. You’ve got one shot, and one shot only. Full confession, every detail, and you serve your time on-planet. Hedge, bullshit, lie, evade, we’re done.”
She leaned closer. “You make me sick—and your lawyer just adds to it. But he’s doing his job, so I can swallow that down. You did what you did to make money, to gamble, to pay back your own father because your fucking inner child’s so needy. So lie to me, you piece of shit, and I’ll personally watch them strap your unconscious ass in the shuttle to Omega.”
“This isn’t right.” Iler’s eyes went damp as he turned to Singa. “You said you’d fix this. You said—”
“Quiet, Lucius. Lieutenant, I need to consult with my client.”
“I bet you do.” Eve rose, gestured to Baxter. “Oh, just one more thing, as it may play into your consult. We’ve got Silverman. We took him down after he broke into the home of the next target on your list. Like Baxter said, we cut through your filters. The Chenowitz family is fine. Silverman?”
She ran a hand over her own bruised face. “We had a little altercation. He looks a lot worse than I do. You take your time. I need to chat with him anyway.
“Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Baxter exiting interview. Record paused.”
When the door closed, Baxter gave Eve a light punch on the arm. She hissed in a breath.
“Shit, sorry. It’s just—that was righteous. I think I liked the look on Singa’s face even more than Iler’s. You could just see him watching all those juicy billable hours drain away.”
“Iler will fold. Singa will advise him to because billable hours and the fact we’ve got Silverman. He’ll use the on-planet deal as leverage. He’ll do part of our job for us on this.
“Take a break,” she told him as Trueheart came out of Observation. “Grab some coffee, stay close. Okay, Trueheart, let’s go kick some ass.”
“I checked on the kid, well the whole family, but I wanted to make sure August was doing okay. He got on the ’link to thank me for taking him to his mom. And he said—I thought you’d like to know—a ninja woman saved him.”
“Ninja woman.” Eve let out a snorting laugh. It hurt her bruised chest a little, but it was worth it.
She opened the door to Interview B. “Record on,” she said and recited the salient information into the record.
Silverman sat, arms crossed, face a mass of bruises.
“I’ve got nothing to say. I’m waiting for my attorney, so you can kiss my ass.”
“Your court-appointed?” Eve responded, then smiled. “Oh, I bet you mean that high-priced criminal attorney you contacted after booking, the one shuttling in about now from Philadelphia. Too bad we’re going to have to inform him you have no available funds.”
“I’ve got funds. I’ve got resources. Fuck you.”
“You’ve got nothing. Accounts frozen. Iler’s got nothing. And his daddy won’t pay. Not one thin dime. If you’re thinking of trying to find a way to turn those Richie paintings into quick cash, you can forget that. They’ve been confiscated from the garage Iler rented.”
She dropped into a chair. “EDD’s putting your comps and devices back together in the lab. Of course, it’s more out of a sense of pride at this point as we have all we need. For you? Well’s dry. You have a right to an attorney, and since you can’t afford one, one will be appointed for you. You can wait in your cage while we get that going.”
His eyes, surrounded by bruises, stayed dark and sharp on hers. “Fuck the lawyers, fuck the courts, fuck you.”
“I think he’s a little upset he got taken down by a woman, Lieutenant.”
She shot Trueheart an easy smile. “You think? He got most of his dick and one of his balls blown off. He can pump the chemical testosterone and steroids all he wants. They don’t make him a man.”
“You shut your dick trap.”
She pushed her face into his. “Make me.”
“Now, Lieutenant, come on. Ease back.” Trueheart patted her arm. “He was wounded serving his country.”
She shrugged, sat back. “Do you want the lawyer, Silverman?”
“Didn’t I say fuck the lawyers? Did I bust your eardrums when I punched that bitch face?”
“I can hear you fine. You’re waiving your right to an attorney? You need to say it for the record.”
“I don’t need or want a goddamn shit-ass lawyer. I’m a soldier. I can take care of myself.”
“You were a soldier,” Eve corrected. “Now you’re a murderer. Is that why you went to Iler? I bet his brother talked about him—the big bro who read him stories, looked after him when they were kids. Did you figure you’d find a brother in Iler?”
“Captain Terrance Iler was the best man I know. And those sons of bitches killed him. He dragged me out. I told him to leave me, but he dragged me out, and he went back in, and they killed him.”
“Is this how you honor his sacrifice?” Trueheart asked, his voice church quiet.
“Fuck sacrifice. Fuck the Army. Those sons of bitches blew themselves up to kill us, but there’s always more. I was ready to go back, take some bastards out. They say I’m not fit to serve? They say the bombing scrambled up my brains? I ended up on the street thanks to them.”
“You used your compensation, your pension, to buy drugs, and what you had left, you gambled away,” Eve reminded him. “You refused to continue treatment at any VA facility, or utilize the assistance offered to veterans.”
“Fuck all of that.” His mouth twisted so violently into a snarl, the healing bottom lip slit open again. “Do you think I’d take their pity?”
“It’s gratitude for service,” Eve corrected. “But rather than take it, you targeted innocent people, and took lives.”
“Innocent is bullshit. Nobody’s innocent.”
“What made Paul Rogan guilty?”
“Which one is that?”
Eve’s gut clenched at the careless question. All the dead were the same to him. “The first. The man whose wife and daughter you tormented until he blew himself up, as well as others at Quantum HQ.”
“Fucking pussy is what he was. Cried. Begged, pleaded. It’s called tactics, moron. It’s called putting the pieces in play.”
“So Rogan and Denby were pieces to be put in play?”
“Worked, didn’t it?” He lifted his hands, spread them, made a boom sound. “The rest, collateral damage. You think I give a shit about any of those rich bastards in their big houses? They’re no better than me.”
A vein beat at his temple—snaking, pulsing toward his shaved skull.
“I put my life on the line for them, and it got me squat. So I took what I was owed.”
“You built the bombs, the vests that you forced Rogan and Denby to wear.”