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“Thirty would be fine for him to get back to me. If it’s longer, I may hit you up for that interruption. Appreciate it.”
“Happy to help, Lieutenant.”
Eve programmed coffee, went back to studying the map. “If you don’t have something for me,” she said when Peabody and McNab came in, “go away.”
“How about a toss-away ’link Juanita Turner didn’t toss away?”
Eve’s head came up, and her gaze burned into McNab. “If you’ve got Penny Soto on there, talking about murder,
I’ll ignore the next time the two of you play grab-ass on duty. And may, in fact, grab your ass myself.”
“My ass is sure getting a lot of play today.” McNab pulled the ’link he’d sealed, and a disc, out of one of his pockets. “I copied the transes onto disc. The caller blocked video on her end, but there’s plenty for voice match. Which, anticipating, I went ahead and ran against the interview you did with Penny Soto. Bull’s-eye.”
Eve snatched the disc, shoved it into her comp slot.
“The last one should do it,” McNab said.
“Computer, run last transmission on current disc.”
Acknowledged . . . Transmission is voice only. Running . . .
Hello. Pen—
No names, remember? And don’t forget. It’s really important for you to toss the ’link in a recycler when this is over. Don’t forget.
Eve’s smile spread, went fierce.
I won’t forget, but—
I just thought you might need someone to talk to, just to know you’ve got a friend, someone who understands what you’re doing tomorrow. Who understands why you have to.
I’ve been praying, all day, all day, asking God to help me. To help me find the strength to do the right thing. To see the right thing. I’m not sure—
He raped me again tonight.
No, oh, no.
I got through it. With prayer, and by knowing it wouldn’t happen again. It would never happen again because you were going to stop him. I think, I’m afraid, if I didn’t know that, I couldn’t get through. I think, I’m afraid I might take my own life to escape the hell he’s brought me in this one.
No! Pen—no, you must never, never think that. Must never take the most precious gift. A life. A life. And that’s what I’m asking myself, asking God. Even after everything, do I have the right to take his?
He killed your son, your husband. He’s killed so many, and no one stops him. Now he’s laughing at God. And . . . tonight, after he raped me, he said he’s getting bored. He may leave—make me go with him. But before he does, he’s going to put a bomb in church. He wants to blow it up. Some Sunday, he said, when we’d never know, when the church was full of people, he’d set it off.
No. No. My God, no.
You’re our only hope. God’s put this in your hands. You’re the only one. You are God’s hand now. Tomorrow. Tell me you’ll stop him tomorrow, or I don’t know if I can get through the night. Tell me, promise me you’ll end this, so he’ll finally know God’s punishment.
Yes. Yes. Tomorrow.
Promise me. Swear it on your son. On your murdered son.
I swear it. I swear it on my Quinto.
Destroy the ’link. Don’t forget. As soon as it’s done, destroy the ’link.
God bless you.
“Voice print match, sender Penny Soto, receiver Juanita Turner. Absolutely, positively,” McNab said. “Smells like conspiracy to murder to me.”
