New York to Dallas

5

They found Stibble in a shoe-box storefront he used for addiction counseling. He looked, Eve decided, even more like a ferret in person than in his ID documents. The short, curly beard he sported didn’t do anything to soften his pointy chin, and the rosetinted shades on his short hook of a nose only added an element of silly.

Those, the skinny braid down the back of his white, hooded tunic, and the pair of leather bracelets around his bony ankles combined to fall somewhere between affected Free-Ager and urban monk.

Which, she supposed, was what he’d aimed for.

He sat with three people on the floor in a circle. Some sort of pyramid-shaped paperweight stood in the center. Harps and gongs trilled and bonged.

He paused, beamed a welcoming smile at Eve and Peabody.

“Welcome! We’ve begun our visualization exercise. Please, join us. Share your first name if you feel comfortable doing so.”

“That would be Lieutenant,” Eve said, and took out her badge. “And you can visualize taking a trip down to Cop Central.”

“Is there a problem?”

“Isaac McQueen’s a big one. You arranging his auditions for a new partner while collecting a fee from the State’s another big one for you.”

Stibble folded his hands at his waist. “It sounds as if you have inaccurate information. We’ll need to straighten this out. I have another forty minutes in this session, so if you’d come back—”

“Would you like to stand up voluntarily?” Eve asked pleasantly, “or would you like me to help you? Class is dismissed,” she said to the trio on the floor.

“Hey, I paid for the hour.”

She studied the man who’d objected, the scruff of beard, the exhausted eyes.

“What’s the damage?”

“Charge is seventy-five. Special introductory fee.”

“Buddy, you’re so getting hosed. Peabody, give this gentleman the address for the closest Get Straight location. It’s free,” she said to the man. “They don’t make you sit on the floor or look at pyramids. And they serve halfway decent coffee and cookies.”

“I really object to you insinuating I—”

“Button it,” she advised Stibble. “I apologize for the inconvenience,” she told everyone else. “Your counselor’s required elsewhere.”

“I’m happy to reschedule.” As his group filed out, Stibble hurried after them. “Please don’t let this minor problem cause you to stumble on your journey to health and well-being!”

“Close it up, Stibble.”

“I have other patients due in—”

“His rights, Peabody.”

“Wait, wait!” He waved his hands in the air, danced on his toes, did a couple of agitated circles while Peabody recited the Revised Miranda.

“Do you understand your rights and obligations, Mr. Stibble?”

“You can’t arrest me! I haven’t done anything.”

“Answer the question,” Eve ordered.

“Yes, I understand my rights, but I don’t understand what this is all about. Isaac McQueen attended a number of my sessions. I’ve conducted them at the prison for years. I know he’s escaped, and that’s terrible. But it doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

“Deb Bracken. Ring a bell?”

“I-I—I’m not sure.”

“She didn’t have any problem remembering you, or the hundred dollars a visit you gave her after she agreed to meet McQueen. I’ve got a whole list of names, and I bet every one of them points a finger at you.”

“Human contact and talk therapy are essential tools in rehabilitation counseling. It’s not illegal.”

“Taking a bribe from an inmate to set him up with women is. You didn’t shell out a hundred out of compassion and generosity, Stibble. How did McQueen pay you?”

“That’s ridiculous.” Behind the rose-colored glasses his eyes jittered with panic. “I’m afraid Ms. Bracken was under the influence of her addiction at the time. She’s misremembering, that’s all.”

“I’m about to charge you with accessory in the forced imprisonment of two people, the assault and rape of one of them.”

“You can’t possibly be serious.” Panic morphed into fear as he backed up several steps. “I’ve never laid a hand on another human being in my life.”

“McQueen has. You’ve been aiding and abetting him for years.”

“This is a big misunderstanding. I feel very upset to be threatened in this way. I think we should all take several deep, cleansing breaths.”

“Cuff him, Peabody.”

“Now wait, just wait.” He waved his hands around again. “I did arrange for a few women to visit Isaac. For therapeutic purposes, and with full approval. Naturally, they—the women—needed to be compensated for their time. Rehabilitation requires many tools.”

“Cut the bullshit. How much did he pay you?”

“A small fee. Barely worth mentioning. Just to cover my own expenses.”

“A thousand a pop’s a lot of expenses. We found your account, Stibble.”

“Donation.” It squeaked out of him. “He donated to my center. It’s perfectly legal.”

“How did you find the women? They’re not all local.”

“I, ah, I’ve counseled many troubled people.”

“Who did he pick, out of those troubled people, to work with him?”

His eyes darted left and right, and Eve concluded she’d barely have to flex her fingers to squeeze the juice out of him.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do. I see it all over you.” She moved forward just enough to infringe on his space, kept her face hard, her voice flat and grim. “You knew exactly what he was up to, and you didn’t give a shit as long as you collected your fee. He settled on one. I want a name.”

“I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”

Eve moved fast, had him against the wall, arms behind his back. She slapped restraints on him.

“No! What are you doing? You can’t! I’m cooperating.”

“Not by my gauge. You’re under arrest for taking a bribe while in the employ of the State of New York, for aiding and abetting a convicted felon, for accessory to that felon’s escape, for murder, for—”

“Murder!”

“Nathan Rigby. McQueen slit his throat in the escape, and you’re going down for it.”

“I didn’t know. How could I know?”

“Give me a name.” Eve perp-walked him to the door. “I want his partner.”

“Sister Suzan! It’s Sister Suzan. Let me go.”

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. I swear to God.”

She paused, just inside the door, slightly loosened her grip. “How do you know he picked her?”

“I took messages in and out for them, after she told me he wanted to stop the visits. Memo cubes and discs. I don’t know what was on them. He’d tell me where to send hers, different mail drops. That’s all I know.”

“Oh, I doubt it, but it’s a start.”

She muscled him out the door.

“I cooperated. You can’t arrest me for anything.”

“Watch me.”

Eve planned to move him through processing, let him sweat, then hit him again. He had more to give, and she had little doubt he’d give it. While she worked him, Peabody could do a deeper search on and for Sister Suzan Devon.

But as she pulled into the garage at Central her communicator signaled.

“Dallas.”

“You’re to report to Commander Whitney’s office immediately, Lieutenant.”

“On my way.”

“Do you think something broke?” Peabody wondered.

“I’ll find out when I get up there. Can you handle this asshole?”

Peabody glanced back at Stibble, who’d sobbed the entire way in. “I think I can manage him.”

“Pass him off, then have him put in a box until I get there.”

He sobbed on the elevator, too. With absolute relief, Eve jumped off at the first opportunity, shifted to the glides for the trip to the commander’s office.

The admin showed her in immediately, shut the door.

“Commander. Detective Peabody and I took Randall Stibble into custody. He gave up the partner.”

“We’ll get to that. Sit down, Lieutenant.”

Though she preferred standing, and he knew it, she sat, because his tone brooked no argument.

“Sir.”

“McQueen’s surfaced. He’s taken a hostage.”

“A hostage?”

“We assume hostage as she no longer fits his victim type.”

“No longer fits.” Her belly clutched. “He’s taken one of his former victims. He has one of those girls. I never considered—I should have.” She shook it off; tried to shake it off. “How do we know she’s with McQueen?”

“He left a message.” He paused at the knock, nodded when Dr. Mira came in.

Now Eve felt a prickle at the back of her neck.

“Eve.” Mira sat in the chair angled toward hers. Her face, as always, was quiet and lovely—but the worry in her eyes pushed Eve to her feet.

“Commander.”

“I want you to sit down, Dallas. I’ve asked Dr. Mira to join us as I—as we both—value her insight and opinion. I’ve already briefed her.”

When she obeyed, he brought his chair over—something she’d never known him to do—so he sat across from her, at eye level.

“At approximately midnight, Central Time, Isaac McQueen abducted Melinda Jones, one of the twin girls and last victims he previously abducted from the Times Square area.”

“I know who she is,” Eve said quietly. “She went to see him in prison when she was nineteen. I didn’t follow up on it.”

Her mouth went dry now, and her heart began to thump. “She lives in Dallas, she and her sister. The sister’s a cop. They live in Dallas. My name.”

Because she’d been found there, beaten, brutalized, and unable—or unwilling—to remember.

“What was the message?”

“This recording answered when Detective Jones called her sister’s’link.”

Whitney kept his eyes on her, ordered his computer to replay the message copied to him by the Dallas police.

Hello, Bree! I hope you remember me. Melinda did at our surprise reunion. Such a pretty young woman now, and you look just like her—even with the different hairstyles. It’s your old friend Isaac. Melinda and I are getting reacquainted, and we’ve so much to catch up on. I hope to do the same with you. We hardly had any time together all those years ago as we were so rudely interrupted. Be a sweetheart, won’t you, and pass this along to Eve Dallas—that’s Lieutenant Dallas now.

Come and get me. If it isn’t Dallas to Dallas—don’t you love that—within eight hours after this message is received, well, I can only say Melinda’s going to be very unhappy with only nine fingers. And that’s just the start.

Eight hours, Eve. Round two starts now. Love, Isaac.

“Did they trace the ’link?”

“In her vehicle,” Whitney told her. “Barely a mile from her apartment.”

“What time did the sister try to tag the ’link?”

“At ten forty-three this morning.”

“It’s still shy of noon. We’re good on time.”

“We have no proof of life,” Whitney began.

“He wouldn’t kill her, sir. Not right off the jump. He chose Melinda Jones for specific reasons. She confronted him while he was in prison. There are no visitor records listing any of his other victims or family members. In addition, he’s gone to some trouble to set this up. He had to have ways and means to get to her, a place to keep her, and that means he’s done his research and utilized his partner to make arrangements. No point in all that just to kill her.”

“While I tend to agree, it’s very possible she’s no more than bait—dead or alive—to lure you down. He wants you there, out of your element and without your usual resources. And we agree he’s gone to some trouble, used a partner, with you as the target.”

He paused, leaned toward her slightly. “Understand me, Lieutenant. I won’t order you to go.”

“Wherever he wants to take me on, Commander, he won’t stop until that happens.”

She’d known, Eve thought now. She’d known it wouldn’t be New York, that he wouldn’t wage this battle on her ground.

But Dallas. She’d never considered he’d use Dallas and a former victim.

And she should have.

“There are another twenty-one survivors from that room,” she continued, “and he can pick and choose. And there are countless others who fit his needs. He wants to engage me. He’ll torture Melinda Jones, and/or take other victims until he does. This isn’t a negotiation. It’s an either/or until I go where he wants me to go.”

No choice, she thought. He’d left her no choice at all. First strike to him.

“I’d prefer having your permission and support, Commander, and the cooperation of the Dallas PSD. But I’ll go without it. I have personal time coming, and I’ll take it.”

“I’ve spoken with Detective Jones’s lieutenant. He’s willing to accept your help, and include you in their investigation as a consultant. However . . .” Whitney laid the palms of his hands on his thighs, tapped them twice. “Dallas, we’re all aware of your background, your history in that city. We have to assume McQueen knows parts of it.”

A small, hard ball of ice formed in her belly. “It’s likely he dug up the basics. That I’d been found there, my condition. It would only add to his determination to draw me back. You know him.” She turned to Mira. “You know that would play.”

“Commander, if I could have a few moments in private with the lieutenant.”

His eyebrows drew together, but he nodded and rose. “Of course.”

“We’re wasting time,” Eve said the minute the door shut behind him. “We all know I have to go, so there’s no damn point in talking it all to death.”

“And I’ll block you leaving New York unless you talk to me.”

“You can’t.”

Mira’s eyes, a mild, soft blue hardened to steel. “Don’t be so sure.”

“You’d let him torture, dismember, kill an innocent woman so, what, I don’t experience some emotional trauma?” Eve shoved to her feet. “I’m a cop. It’s not your job to decide.”

“It’s precisely my job,” Mira corrected with a rare flash of temper. “You didn’t blink. You didn’t hesitate. And you’d better do both now, here with me. Or would you rather bull forward and go, then find yourself unable to deal with it when that innocent’s—and your own—life is on the line? You were beaten and raped in Dallas.”

“Chicago, too. I remember it some, and a couple other places. Do I have to give you a list of cities so you can clear my travel?”

“You didn’t kill your abuser in Chicago. You were finally able to defend yourself in Dallas, a child of eight, who—covered with blood, her arm broken, her mind frozen in shock—wandered the streets.”

“I know what happened. I was there.”

“And blocked it out for years, protected yourself from the memories of years of abuse as best you could. Lived with nightmares.”

“I don’t have them anymore. I dealt with it. They stopped.” Almost entirely.

“Have you considered, even for a moment, what going back under these circumstances might mean? Going there, of all places, to hunt a man who abuses—physically, sexually, emotionally—children, just as your father did to you. Have you considered how this might affect you, personally and professionally?”

“Do you think I want to go?” It burst out of her, a quick flood of anger and heat. “I went back once, to that room, to those streets, even to the alley where they found me. I got through that, and I promised myself I’d never go back. He’s dead here, and here,” she said, putting her hands on her head. “And I don’t know if going there will bring him back again. God, I don’t want to face that again, having him alive in my head. What do you expect me to do? Let her die because I’m afraid of him, of all of it?”

“No.” Mira spoke quietly now. “I expect you to go, to do your job, to find him, and to stop him.”

“You just wanted me to break down first?”

“Yes, exactly. I care about you, Eve. You’re so much more to me than another case file. I care about you as I do about my own children, and am perfectly aware those feelings can and do make it difficult for both of us from time to time.”

She let out a sound, a mix of sorrow and regret. “A mother protects her child above all. She also has to let her go, but not without being sure her child is prepared and armed and ready. If you couldn’t admit to yourself and to me those fears, those doubts, you couldn’t be ready. Now I can let you go, even wishing I could stop you.”

“I don’t want to go.” The breath Eve let out scraped at her throat like nails. “I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t.”

“I know. He’ll use whatever he knows about your history, like salt in a wound. He’ll play mind games, prodding where you’re most vulnerable. I need you to promise you’ll contact me if you need help.”

Eve walked back, sat. “It makes it difficult from time to time, on my end, because my memories of a mother are twisted and ugly. She hated me. That’s the foremost memory I have of her. The hate in her eyes when she looked at me. So I don’t know how to respond when the offer of, I guess, a maternal type of affection and support is . . . pure or whatever.”

“I understand that. It’s something we can delve into deeper when you’re ready.” Mira laid a hand over Eve’s. “Promise you’ll let me know if you need my help.”

“I do. I will.”

Rising, Mira started for the door, stopped. “You’re stronger than you were, and you were always strong. You’re smarter than you were, and you were always smart. You have more because you let yourself give and take more. He hasn’t changed since you stopped him. You have. Use that,” she said, and opened the door.

“Commander,” Mira said when Whitney came back in. “In my opinion, Lieutenant Dallas is clear for this assignment.”

“The choice is yours, Lieutenant.”

“You know I’ve made it, sir.”

“Very well. Lieutenant Ricchio has cleared you as well, and to take another investigator at your discretion. If you want Peabody, I’ll have it done.”

“Peabody’s needed here, Commander. She’s studied the case files, already has the research and data on the partner. As well as a suspect in custody for accessory who may have more information. I want her to continue to work the case from here. To work it as primary.”

“That’s your call.”

“I’ll brief her. I’ll take Roarke, as expert consultant, civilian, if he’s available.”

“Make whatever arrangements you deem best, and contact me when you’re in the air.” He drew a disc from his pocket. “Data on Ricchio, Detective Jones, the other detectives and officers you’ll most likely work with.”

“Thank you, sir. That’s . . . thorough.”

“I know my cops,” he said briefly. “It’ll save you from running them. Good hunting, Lieutenant.”

She hurried back to Homicide. She’d have time to think, review, plan on the trip, but for now she had to move fast.

She spotted Peabody eyeing the dubious choices at Vending outside the bullpen. “Peabody, with me.”

She went straight through into her office.

“I’ve got Stibble holding. I was just going to grab some lunch, then—”

“Grab it later. McQueen’s in Dallas. He grabbed Melinda Jones, one of his former vics, last night.”

“Is she alive?”

“Assumed. He left a message for her twin sister. I’ve been invited down there to play with him.”

“To—” Peabody broke off, shut the door. “Does he know what happened to you there?”

“Undetermined.” As she spoke, Eve packed a file box. “I’m leaving asap.”

“You mean we.”

“No, I don’t. I need you here. I want you to handle Stibble. Wring him dry. Continue to find out anything you can on this Sister Suzan. She’ll be in Dallas. She’ll have laid the groundwork for McQueen. They’ve got a place, somewhere private enough to hold a hostage. She’ll have a place of her own, close by. Use Baxter and Trueheart. If you need more manpower, let me know and I’ll arrange it.”

“You’re not going there alone.” Peabody shifted to block the door, and had Eve’s eyebrows lifting.

“Were your orders unclear, Detective?”

“Don’t pull that shit on me, Dallas. Just don’t. It’s a trap, and worse, it’s there. It’s where . . . it’s there.”

“I know where it is, and of course he’s figuring it’s a trap. He’ll want to string it out for a while, have some fun with it. That’s a mistake.”

Now Peabody folded her arms, planted her feet. “I’m going with you.”

“Peabody, I know you’ve been working on improving your hand-to-hand, but I can take you down in five seconds flat.” She took a breath as Peabody’s face only tightened into fiercer lines. First Mira, she thought, now this.

“If I can’t handle myself I don’t have any business with this badge or this office.”

“That’s not the point. This is different.”

“Every case is different, and how we deal with every case is different. But what’s the same is we work it, we do the job, and we take the risks the job demands. That’s it.”

She considered demoralizing her partner by moving her bodily from the door. Not only would it leave a bad taste in her mouth, but she needed Peabody on top, confident, clean-headed.

And under it, she just didn’t have the heart to slap back the concern of her partner. Her friend.

“I’m going to talk to Roarke right now, see if he can clear some time to go along as a consultant. The commander cleared it with Dallas PSD. Don’t question me on this, Peabody. I need to go, and I need to go knowing you’re capable of taking charge of the investigation from here.”

“In charge? Me? But Baxter—”

“You studied McQueen, and you’re familiar with all stages of the investigation to this point. You’re a goddamn decorated officer of this department. And you will take the lead on the New York end of this investigation as you’ve been trained to do. You will not let me down.”

“I won’t let you down. Please don’t go alone. If Roarke can’t leave this minute, take one of the other men. Take backup that’s familiar, that you know you can trust. You don’t know the people down there.”

“I’ve data on all of them. If Roarke’s not available, I’ll consider hooking Feeney into it.”

“Okay. But if you need me—”

“I know where you are. Now I’ve got to go. He only gave me eight hours and it’s ticking away fast. Send me whatever you get out of Stibble, whatever you get on the partner.”

“I’ll stay in regular contact.” With some reluctance Peabody moved away from the door, followed Eve out. “How do you want me to play Stibble? Should I—”

“You know what to do. Do it. Now brief the men.” Without another word she left.

She pulled out her ’link, tagged Baxter as she worked down the levels to the garage.

“Yo,” Baxter said.

“I’m headed out of town, following a lead on McQueen. Peabody’s taking over here. I want you and Trueheart working with her. She’s primary.”

“Copy that.”

“Don’t give her too much grief, Baxter, but don’t baby her.”

“How much is too much? Don’t worry about it. Trueheart’ll keep me honest. Just go get that fucker, LT.”

“That’s the plan.” She clicked off, contacted Roarke’s office.

His admin, Caro, smiled at her. “Hello, Lieutenant. Roarke’s just finishing up a holo-conference. If it’s important, I’ll cut in.”

“I’m on my way there. I need to talk to him as soon as possible. It’s urgent.”

Caro’s smile shifted to alert. “I’ll clear the time.”

“Thanks.”

And here we go, Eve thought, as she jumped into her vehicle and pushed the DLE Urban Roarke had designed for her to full speed. As she drove, dodging, weaving, hitting vertical to leapfrog, she plugged the disc Whitney had given her into the onboard comp, and began to familiarize herself with Lieutenant Ricchio and his unit.

When she stepped into the expansive black-and-white lobby of Roarke’s headquarters, one of his security met her. “We cleared an elevator for you. Straight up, Lieutenant.”

“Thanks.” She strode quickly past the moving maps, the banks and rivers of flowers, the crisscross of people bustling in and out of the shops and eateries.

Security escorted her to the elevator, then stepped back. “It’s programmed,” he told her before the doors closed.

She spent the time on the fast ride up, up, up, pacing the car, aligning her thoughts, working out what needed to be done and how to do it.

The doors opened again, directly into Roarke’s office, and he stood waiting.

“What’s happened?”

“McQueen’s taken a hostage.” When he gripped her hand, she saw her mistake. He thought it was someone in New York, someone they loved.

“Who?”

“Melinda Jones. She’s one of the twins, the last he abducted.”

“I remember.” But relief didn’t register on his face. He remembered, she thought, everything. “She’s in Dallas.”

“He grabbed her late last night. I can fill you in on it later. He’s given me a deadline to get down there, or he’ll start cutting pieces off of her.”

“He wants you in Dallas?” Those beautiful blue eyes narrowed and sharpened. “He specifically demanded this?”

“Yeah, in eight hours from the time the sister picked up the message. “That was at ten forty-three, their time. It’s twelve-forty now. So I’ve got six hours to get there. Or . . . it’s earlier there, so I lose an hour. Or gain it. Shit, I can’t ever figure that crap out.”

“There’s time enough. It isn’t a coincidence he’s there.”

“There are factors. We can get into them later. Right now I don’t want to fuck around, give him any excuse to start cutting her up. I’m cleared to work with the locals, and to take a partner or aide, or whatever. I need Peabody to stay here, to run this part of the investigation.”

He nodded, and saying nothing more crossed the long space to his desk in front of the sea of glass that gave him New York. “Caro, clear my schedule until further notice. I need a shuttle prepped and waiting at Transportation for a flight to Dallas, Texas. Right away.”

He clicked off the inter-office ’link. “Sit down a minute,” he told Eve.

“I didn’t ask you to go with me. I was going to, but you didn’t give me a chance.”

“Do you think you could go there without me? Ever?”

She closed her eyes a minute. “No questions? No objections? No ‘You can’t go back there’?”

“I’d be wasting my time and yours. Going will hurt you. Not going would break you.”

This time when she let out a breath, it shuddered. And she went to him, wrapped her arms around him. “Yes. And going back without you? I don’t want to think about it.”

“Then don’t.” He drew her back, looked into her eyes. “We’ll deal with this, you and I.”

“Yeah, we will. I—we—need to get home, pack.”

He merely turned to the ’link again. A few seconds later, Summerset appeared on screen.

“Eve and I are leaving for Dallas on urgent police business. I’ll need you to pack for both of us as quickly as possible, and have the luggage sent to my short-range shuttle at Transportation.”

“Right away. Will a week’s wardrobe be sufficient?”

“That should be fine. I’ll contact you with other instructions once we’re on our way. Thank you.”

Even through the rush, the worry, she had room for a good scoop of appalled. “Summerset’s going to pack for me? Like, my underwear?”

Roarke glanced at her, smiled. “You seem more disturbed by that than with the idea of facing down McQueen.”

“The first is humiliating, and I’m looking forward to the second. But I’ll suck it up. It saves time.”

“Spend it sitting down. Take a breath. I need to go consult with Caro for a few minutes.”

“Roarke.” She remained on her feet. “I know you probably think going with me on this kind of deal is part of the marriage rules.”

His lips curved in easy amusement. “You do love your rules.”

“When I know about them, and understand them. I know I give you a lot of grief about owning the world, or buying up planets. It’s not that I don’t get how much work, time, responsibility it takes to run everything you run. I do. So I know you’re putting a hell of a lot on hold for me. I don’t take it for granted.”

“Eve.” He waited a beat. “I once stood in a field in Ireland, alone, a little lost, and wishing for you more than I wished for my next breath. And you came, though I never asked you, you came because you knew I needed you. We don’t always do what’s right, what’s good. Not even for each other. But when it counts, down to the core of it, I believe we do exactly that. What’s right and good for each other.

“There’s no rule to that, Eve. It’s just love.”

Just love, she thought when he stepped out. She may have been going into her own personal hell to face a killer, but right at that moment she considered herself the luckiest woman in the world.