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“That’s ridiculous.” Behind the rose-colored glasses his eyes jittered with panic. “I’m afraid Ms. Bracken was under the influence of her addiction at the time. She’s misremembering, that’s all.”
“I’m about to charge you with accessory in the forced imprisonment of two people, the assault and rape of one of them.”
“You can’t possibly be serious.” Panic morphed into fear as he backed up several steps. “I’ve never laid a hand on another human being in my life.”
“McQueen has. You’ve been aiding and abetting him for years.”
“This is a big misunderstanding. I feel very upset to be threatened in this way. I think we should all take several deep, cleansing breaths.”
“Cuff him, Peabody.”
“Now wait, just wait.” He waved his hands around again. “I did arrange for a few women to visit Isaac. For therapeutic purposes, and with full approval. Naturally, they—the women—needed to be compensated for their time. Rehabilitation requires many tools.”
“Cut the bullshit. How much did he pay you?”
“A small fee. Barely worth mentioning. Just to cover my own expenses.”
“A thousand a pop’s a lot of expenses. We found your account, Stibble.”
“Donation.” It squeaked out of him. “He donated to my center. It’s perfectly legal.”
“How did you find the women? They’re not all local.”
“I, ah, I’ve counseled many troubled people.”
“Who did he pick, out of those troubled people, to work with him?”
His eyes darted left and right, and Eve concluded she’d barely have to flex her fingers to squeeze the juice out of him.
“I don’t know. I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do. I see it all over you.” She moved forward just enough to infringe on his space, kept her face hard, her voice flat and grim. “You knew exactly what he was up to, and you didn’t give a shit as long as you collected your fee. He settled on one. I want a name.”
“I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”
Eve moved fast, had him against the wall, arms behind his back. She slapped restraints on him.
“No! What are you doing? You can’t! I’m cooperating.”
“Not by my gauge. You’re under arrest for taking a bribe while in the employ of the State of New York, for aiding and abetting a convicted felon, for accessory to that felon’s escape, for murder, for—”
“Murder!”
“Nathan Rigby. McQueen slit his throat in the escape, and you’re going down for it.”
“I didn’t know. How could I know?”
“Give me a name.” Eve perp-walked him to the door. “I want his partner.”
“Sister Suzan! It’s Sister Suzan. Let me go.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know. I swear to God.”
She paused, just inside the door, slightly loosened
her grip. “How do you know he picked her?”
