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“Okay. You want to talk to me, Joe?”
“Yeah, I . . .” He glanced toward his wife who nodded, a kind of support gesture. “We need to talk about before. It’s about before, about what happened. The 2043 bombings.”
Eve held up a hand. “Why did you come in? Why are you here, on your own?”
“We talked.” His wife laid a hand on Joe’s arm. “After you came by, we talked, and Joe told me about it. We’re here to do what’s right. Me and Joe. Together.”
“You answer this one question.” Eve stepped closer so that her face was close to Joe’s. She kept her voice low, her eyes hard on his. “I haven’t read you your rights. You know what that means?”
“Yeah. But—”
“I want an answer to this before we go forward, before anything you tell me is on the record. Did you kill anyone, or have part in killing anyone?”
“No, Jesus, no, that’s—”
“Don’t say anything else. Don’t tell me anything. I’m going to have you taken to an interview room. You’re going to wait there until I make some arrangements.” She poked her head into the bullpen, snagged a uniform. “Take Mr. and Mrs. Inez to Interview B. Sit with them.” Eve turned back to them. “You’ve got nothing to say until I tell you to say it.”
She went straight to her office, contacted APA Cher Reo. “You need to get down here, but before you do, I need you to approve immunity for a witness.”
“Oh sure.” The pretty blonde waved a graceful hand. “Just let me get my special magic immunity wand.”
“I’ve got a wit, one who just came in voluntarily that may close out two cases that’ve been open for seventeen years and involved six deaths. The wit may give information that leads to an arrest in those matters.”
“What—”
Eve plowed right over her. “In addition, I’m about to close the St. Cristóbal’s homicide with two arrests. The wit was a minor at the time of the earlier incident, and would likely fall under the idiotic Clemency Order, or it could so be argued if there were charges brought. You do deals with scum to get bigger scum every day of the goddamn week, Reo. I’m talking family man here, one who comes off as doing a one-eighty on where his life was going. You authorize immunity, or I’m cutting him loose.”
“I can’t just—”
“Don’t tell me what you can’t. Make it work. Get back to me.” Eve clicked off, contacted Mira’s office. “I don’t care what she’s doing,” Eve began when the ferocious admin answered. “I need to speak with her now. Put me through, or I’m coming down there.”
The screen went to hot, waiting blue.
Moments later, Mira came on. “Eve?”
“I need you in Observation,” Eve began, and explained. “Maybe I’m wrong,” she added. “You’ll know if I’m wrong.”
“I can be there in about twenty minutes.”
“I’ll wait for you.”
She made the last call to Feinburg, and set in motion the last of her plan. When Reo tagged her back, Eve grabbed the ’link.
“I’m on my way. Immunity isn’t out of the question, but I need more information.”
“The wit was approximately seventeen years old, and a member of the Soldados when the bombings in 2043 occurred.”
“Jesus, Dallas, if he was part of that—”
“I believe his part, if any, was minor, and after the fact. And that he can give us information on the major players. Later today, I’m going to be picking up the only one of them I believe is still alive, as part of the St. Cristóbal’s arrest. They could skate on this anyway, Reo, but what he gives me would be another nail for you to hammer.”
“The Clemency Order’s a murky area as it was revoked. If a suspect wasn’t arrested and charged during the time it was in place, and information after its repeal—”
“Don’t lawyer me, Reo. You’re going to give my wit immunity.” No, she couldn’t stop them all, Eve thought. She couldn’t save them all. But she could save some. “I’m not taking this guy down for it.”
“What’s the wit’s name?”
“It’s going to be Mr. X until you give me the damn immunity.”
