“I’ve just busted the murder ring, and the raping brotherhood, and made five arrests.”
Reo’s eyes popped open.
“You’re going to want to tell your boss, and meet me at St. Alban’s, where I’ll be questioning Marshall Easterday.”
She clicked off, nearly turned into Roarke. “Don’t ask,” she said, anticipating him. “The answer is I’m fine. I need to finish this, and it’s going to take some time. But . . . I could use you and that damn copter later. I’m not going to finish until I see the Brotherhood house. We won’t have much trouble finding it now.”
“None at all. The hit came through while we were taking the house—as did McNab’s on the van.”
“That’s handy. So . . . can I tap you for the transpo later?”
“Of course. I’ll clear the time, whenever you’re ready.”
“Don’t hug me.” She could anticipate that, too. “You can pretend you did, and I’ll pretend you did. I’ll probably really appreciate the real thing when this is done.”
“I’ll clear time for that as well.” So he simply brushed his finger over the dent in her chin. “I’ll leave you to it, Lieutenant.”
“I appreciate the assist.” She broke cop dignity long enough to take his hand. “All the way around.”
When he left, she took a moment to settle, then got back to work.
—
Within the hour she stood with Peabody and Reo in Easterday’s hospital suite. To Eve’s mind he looked better than he had a right to.
“How can you do this?” He lifted the hand chained to the bed. “Those women murdered my friends, tortured them, and they tortured me. They—they forced me to watch while they . . . what they did to Freddy.”
“They’ll face those consequences. But we’re here to talk about you, and your brotherhood. We’re here to talk about what you and your brothers began forty-nine years ago.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Those women—”
“We have the recording from the first rape. Her name is Tara Daniels.” God bless Harvo. “Remember her?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know anyone by that name.”
“And they say you always remember your first.” Her voice seethed with disgust. “Betz recorded it, and kept the old, original disc, and souvenirs from every victim since in his bank box in the Bronx.”
Easterday hadn’t known about the bank box, Eve thought, catching the quick leap of shock into his eyes.
“We’re identifying all those victims as we speak, through DNA. You’re alive, Easterday, because we got to you in time, despite the fact you chose to run rather than face what you’d done.”
“You’re wrong. You’re just wrong. I want—”
“I have the evidence.” She leaned in, close to his battered face. “I viewed the recording, I watched you rape Tara Daniels, and watch, laugh, drink while your friends raped her. I watched Frederick Betz stick a needle in her so you could all pretend she wanted you.
“Want to see it? I can arrange to have it shown right here on your view screen.”
“No. No. I . . . you don’t understand.”
“Enlighten me.”
“We were . . . we were young, and under such tremendous pressure. We needed to let off some steam—we weren’t allowed outside the security perimeters without permission. And she—she—she’d been provocative, teasing. She was drunk and she’d already been with Edward. And she came on to me.”
“So she asked for it?”
“He said— It was a different time.”
“A different time that made it okay to tie a woman down, slap her around, gang rape her, dose her with chemicals against her will? Then what was it . . . Yeah, after you were done, after all of you took turns with her, any way you wanted, it was okay to ‘douche the douche,’ dump her back on campus?”
“We drank too much,” he began. “All the pressure we were under. She wouldn’t remember. What harm did it really do?”
“But they did remember.” This time Peabody pushed close. “Elsi Lee Adderman remembered and it twisted her up so much she killed herself.”
“Who? I don’t know who that is.”
“Just one of forty-nine,” Eve said. “You disgusting excuse for a human being. What gave you the right?”
“It was tradition! It was one harmless night a year. We never hurt them. It was just sex. A kind of bond, you see? Something shared.”
“I guess Billy stopped thinking of it that way. Like Elsi, he couldn’t live with it anymore.”
“I . . . It bound us together. It brought us luck. All of us became successful. All of us made a mark on the world, came through that terrible time and made our marks. It was just one night a year.”
“You raped forty-nine women.”
“It wasn’t rape! It was just sex, it was tradition. It was—”
“Did you drug them?”
“It was just—”
“Did you fucking drug them?”
“Yes, yes, but only because it eased the way—for them. For them,” he said quickly.
“Did you restrain them?”
“Yes, but—just to add to the excitement—for them, too.”
“Did these women say stop? Say no?”
“Only at the start of the . . . It was a kind of ritual. And we selected them carefully. To be selected was a kind of honor.”
She could see the panic in his eyes at his own words. “Rape is an honor?”
“It was sex.”
“Keep telling yourself that. You drugged them, restrained them, you forced yourself on them when they begged you to stop. You might just find yourself in the same situation in prison, for the rest of your life. And we’ll see if you think of it as just sex.”
“You can’t put me in prison. Do you know who I am?”
“I know exactly who you are.”
“You work for me!” Incensed, he tried to shove up, and the restraints rattled. “For men like me.”
“I work for the City of New York, and I put people like you in cages. I fucking love my job, and tonight, right this minute, more than ever.”
“Those women are criminals. They’re murderers. They’re insane. They beat me. They burned me.”
“Oh, we’ll let the medicals fix you all up before you go in the cage. You and the last of your brothers—that’s Ethan MacNamee, who’s even now being extradited to New York—are going to have a long time to think about your traditions. You got enough, Reo?”
“More than. Mr. Easterday, you’ve confessed, on the record and after being duly Mirandized, to the charges of multiple rapes.”
“No! It was not rape. I was only explaining.” Tears spilled down his cheeks. “I don’t want to talk to you anymore. I’ve been hurt! I have nothing more to say.”
“That’s your right,” Reo said easily. “On the other hand, Mr. MacNamee’s had a lot to say. And if he continues, once he’s doing that talking to Lieutenant Dallas, he’ll get the deal I was about to offer you.”
“What deal?” Eve demanded, on cue, as if outraged.
“This is my job, Lieutenant. And part of my job is to save the city the time and expense of a long, ugly trial. But since Mr. Easterday has invoked his right to remain silent . . .”
“I want to know the terms.”
Reo looked back at him, nodded. “All right. If you’ll excuse us, Lieutenant, Detective.”
“This is bullshit.” But Eve stormed out, then slowed when she got out the door.
“What’s the deal?” Peabody asked. “I knew you and Reo had your heads together.”
“Life, no parole, but on-planet. He’d likely get that anyway. But she’ll scare him into signing off. He’s done. MacNamee is done—he spilled plenty to Scotland, and we’ll get the rest out of him.”
She shoved a hand through her hair because she was far from done. “Let’s go talk to the women.”
22
At Blake’s request, Eve took her first, sat across from her and in the box.