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“Alleged blood tie,” Reo reminded her. “And the profile hinges on that. The need to impress her father, to punish her brother, and the rest of the psycho-shrink babble—no offense.”
“None taken,” Mira assured her.
“All that stands on her being Ricker’s kid, and knowing it.”
“We’ll be substantiating that today. You’re up for this, Morris?”
“Yes. Yes, I am.”
“Peabody and I will pull Alex Ricker in, work him. If he knows about a sister, even suspects he may have one, we’ll get it out of him. And letting the word get out that we’ve got Alex Ricker in the box, are interviewing him in the matter of Coltraine and Sandy? It’s going to give Grady a feeling of accomplishment. I’ll bet she’ll want a pat on the back from Daddy.”
“It would fit,” Mira agreed. “She may try to contact him through her usual sources.”
“Which we’ll have, also in a box, within hours. Rouche will give us Ricker, and he’ll give us Sandy. We may get lucky and get another log to add on the Grady fire.” She looked at Feeney. “We need to know asap if she tries for the contact. You’ll be set.”
“We’ll be set. She sends anything to the ’link Callendar found in Rouche’s quarters, we’ll nail it down. Once you work the return process out of Rouche, we’ll send her whatever return you want.”
“We’re a go then. Get me the damn warrants, Reo. Peabody, wait outside, please. McNab, set it up. Morris, another minute.”
Eve waited until the room cleared. “McNab’s going to have ears on you the whole time you’re with her.”
“I’m not worried about it.”
“She’s a killer. It’s her job. You should worry about it. If she senses anything off, she’ll do you first, think about it later. You just have to—”
“We’ve been over what you want me to do, how you want me to do it, three times. I can do this. And I should be the one to do it, not only for Amaryllis, but because I’m the only logical choice. You have to trust me to do my part. I’m trusting you to do yours.”
No choice, she thought, but to back off. “Call it in, either way.”
“I will.”
Eve watched him walk away, then stuck her hands in her pockets as Peabody stepped up. “He’ll be okay, Dallas. McNab’ll be right there. Practically.”
“If he tips it the wrong way, and she pulls out her weapon or a knife, McNab will get it on record. Morris is still down. I couldn’t work out a way to do it myself. She’ll be on alert with me. I thought about pushing her into taking a swing at me, so I could swing back. Then, oops, I’ve got her blood on my shirt. But then I’ve provoked her into giving up DNA instead of her—essentially—volunteering it.”
“He’ll get it done. He needs to, so he will.”
“Right. Contact Alex Ricker, and ask him real nice to come on down so we can chat.”
“He’ll bring a bunch of lawyers.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
She went into her office to prep, to line up all the threads she intended to tie together. She could wrap that knot tight around Cleo Grady, but she needed all those threads to put the bow on it.
Now it was wait, she thought. Wait for Reo to get the warrants, wait for Callendar and Sisto to deliver Rouche, wait for Morris to play out his role.
Alex Ricker? At this point he was more a pawn than a thread. She’d use him—and prove his father, his friend, and his half sister had used him. And she’d prove all the threads ran out from him, simply because he was.
She wouldn’t be sorry for it. He’d made his choices—to follow in his father’s footsteps, or close enough alongside them to cross the lines. He’d chosen to stay on that path rather than change it for a woman who must have loved him. A woman who died because she’d loved him, and left him.
She stood at her window, drinking coffee, considering choices. When she heard the knock on her door, she called out, “Come on.”
Mira stepped in, closed the door behind her. “Do you want me to observe when you interview Alex Ricker?”
“I’ve got it.”
“All right. I will want to observe if and when you interview Cleo Grady.”
