“No. I wasn’t that important. All she saw was the cop who’d fucked up her plans with McQueen, who put her in the hospital, who was going to put her in a cage. I’d’ve put her in a cage. Maybe I should’ve put two men on her.”
“Dallas, I read the reports. You had her restrained, and under guard. There were still cops in the hospital when she escaped.”
“She wouldn’t tell me where McQueen was. I couldn’t flip her, and I went at her hard. Maybe too hard.”
“Stop.” Peabody’s voice roughened and firmed. “You did the job. If you weren’t sure you could do it, you’d have gotten somebody else to sweat her. But you did the job.”
It helped to hear it. She’d gone over every step, every move, every decision countless times, and believed she’d done everything she could. But it helped to hear it. “I was going to go back at her again. I’d bought some time, wanted to let her think about it, then go back at her. But she got out, went to McQueen, and he killed her.”
“And you found her.”
“She was still warm. We hadn’t missed him by much.”
“You got Melinda Jones and Darlie Morgansten out, safe. I can’t imagine what it was like for you.” Peabody took a quiet, unsteady breath. “What it’s been like since. You had Mira,” Peabody remembered. “Thank God you had Roarke and Mira.”
For a long moment, Peabody stared out the side window. “Dallas, you could’ve called me down. You shouldn’t have had to work that alone. I’d’ve had your back.”
“I know it. I had to work it alone. And I’ve had to work through it. You deserve to know, but I had to work through it before I told you.”
“I read her file.” Voice strong and steady again, Peabody shifted back. “I know who she was, what she was. Now I know she left you with an animal. It’s good she’s dead.”
Stunned, Eve turned her head, stared. “That’s not very Free-Ager.”
“Fuck that.” Peabody’s eyes flashed like supernovas. “Fuck tolerance and understanding. Yeah, you’d have put her in a cage for the rest of her pathetic, evil life. But maybe sometime during her rot, she’d have put it together. Maybe she’d have remembered you. She’d have used that on you; she’d have tried. Before you scared the piss out of her, if you could get to her before Roarke. If he could get there before me. And it’s good she was such a selfish, pitiful excuse for a human being so she didn’t remember you, didn’t think about you all those years. She might’ve recognized you, especially after Roarke. She might’ve seen you on screen, and recognized you, caused you more grief and trouble. Dead’s better.”
The rant was so unPeabody, Eve sat in silence. “I’m not sure how to respond,” she decided.
“We should go get a goddamn drink. A whole shitload of god-damn drinks.”
“Jesus, don’t cry.”
“I’ll cry if I fucking want to.” She sniffled, swiped. “Fucking bitch.”
“It’s mean to call me a bitch when I’ve shared personal trauma.”
“I didn’t mean you! I meant your—I meant McQueen’s fucking bitch. I should’ve been there for you.”
And she’d know not to use the M word, not to say mother. That was very Peabody. “Roarke sent for Mira after McQueen killed Stella. And he had Mira bring Galahad.”
Now the tears really rolled—big, fat drops until Peabody had to dig through her pockets to find an old tissue. “I love him.”
“He’s a pretty good cat.”
Wet laughter blew through the tissue. “Sure he is, but you know I meant Roarke. I love him. And if something terrible happened to McNab, I’d fight you for him. And I’ve been practicing.”
“So warned.”
“You’re okay?”
Eve thought it over. “I’m okay. There’s probably going to be some rough spots here and there, but I’m okay. Sperm and egg—that’s what they were. For eight years, between the two of them, they made me a victim. They made me afraid and gave me pain. Now they’re dead. I’m not a victim. I’m not afraid. And pain? Not much. They can’t hurt me anymore, so what I have, it’s just echoes. It’ll pass.”
She pulled up in front of the little house in Brooklyn. “Do something about your face. You’re all splotchy.”
“Crap.” Peabody began lightly slapping her hands over her face.
“What does that do?”
“Makes it all red, distributes the blood. Maybe. It’ll calm down in a few minutes. Just keep Mrs. Cattery focused on you.”
“Christ. Stay behind me.”
Peabody got out, lifted her reddened face. “It’s really windy, and cold. It’ll just look like I’m windburned.” She took a steadying breath. “Did you tell me this when we were in the car and on our way to interview so I couldn’t hug you?”
“It’s a side benefit.”
“I’m going to hug you later. You won’t know when it’s coming.”
“The same goes for my boot up your ass.”
“That’s a given. It’s a daily surprise.”
“Settle down, and let’s do this.”
“It’s a nice house,” Peabody observed as they walked to the door. “Nice neighborhood.”
“He was the only one on the team who did the campaign who didn’t live within blocks of the office.”
“Wife and kids. Fenced yard. Dog.” She nodded toward the back. “See, doghouse.”
“What’s in a doghouse? Mini-screen, AutoChef?”
“Probably a ratty blanket and a collection of soup bones. How’s my face?”
“I’ve seen worse.”
With that ringing endorsement, Peabody angled herself slightly behind her partner as Eve knocked on the door.
16
Eve pegged the woman who answered as a well-toned sixty-five. Her hair, a stylishly streaky sweep, swung around a tired face currently dominated by suspicious eyes.
“Can I help you?”
“Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody, NYPSD. We—”
“Of course, I recognize you. Have you found the person responsible for Joe?”
“We’re pursuing all leads. We’d like to speak to Mrs. Cattery if she’s available.”
“She’s resting. Can you talk to me? I’m her mother. I’m Dana Forest. I don’t want to disturb Elaine if there’s nothing new. She’s barely slept since—”
“I’m up, Mom.”
Eve caught a glimpse of the woman on the stairs. She wore a bulky sweater over blue and green sleep pants, thick red socks on her feet. Her hair, a deep, bark brown, hung in a lank tail down her back. Bruises of grief and exhaustion provided the only color in her face. If her mother looked tired, Elaine Cattery looked utterly depleted.
“Lainey, you need some rest.”
“Don’t worry.” She came down, leaned against her mother in a way that made them a unit. “Where are the kids?”
“Sam and Hannah took them to the park to let the dog run, just to get them out for a little while.”
“It’s so cold.”
“Everyone’s bundled up. Don’t you worry.”
“I’m sorry. We’re leaving you out in the wind. Please, come in.”
“How about some tea?” Dana kept her arm around her daughter.
“I’ll make some tea.”
“That’d be great.” Elaine stepped away, moved into a living area with a bold-colored sofa, brightly striped chairs. A comfortable home, Eve thought, with cheerful colors, deep cushions, surfaces holding framed photos, flowers, pretty little bowls.
“Sit down, won’t you? I didn’t expect … I’ve already talked to the police.”
“I know. We’re doing a follow-up. If you could answer some questions, Mrs. Cattery.”
“Are you seeing everyone? There are so many. So many. I’ve stopped watching the news. Are there more? Has something else happened?”