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“Hours yet. I want to see it through. Everybody wants to see it through.”
Eve moved into Observation first—wanted a look at the prisoner—and found out Peabody meant everybody literally.
“Don’t you people have anywhere to go?”
“Take her down, LT,” Jenkinson told her. “Wrap up that crazy bitch.”
“You got pizza sauce on your tie, Detective.”
“Damn it.”
Feeney handed Jenkinson a napkin, and as Eve had with Reineke, punched Eve’s shoulder. “Finish the job, kid, and we’ll all get the hell out of here.”
They had her cold on the explosives—and she’d pretty much confessed to the murders. But the courts, the lawyers, the shrinks wanted all the t’s crossed.
She stepped into the room where Lottie sat slumped in the chair at the scarred table, her hands and feet chained.
“Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, entering interview with Roebuck, Lottie, on the matter of . . . a lot of things. Ms. Roebuck, you’ve been charged with the unauthorized transport of explosive devices, forced imprisonment, attempted murder—several counts—of a police officer, assault with a deadly on a police officer. Officer Hanks from Evidence is okay, by the way. And various other charges stemming from this incident. You are also being held on suspicion of murder—first degree—two counts; attempted murder, two counts; intent to murder, one more. Officers are now searching your residence, your electronics—home and work—and other charges may be coming as a result of what they find. You’ve been read your rights by Detective Peabody, on record, but I’m happy to refresh that.”
“I know my rights. I know what’s right.”
“Okay, then.” Eve sat. “Let’s go back, take this all in chronological order. Leanore Bastwick.”
“She deserved to die. You said you understood, you wanted it! She made her living getting criminals off. You risk your life to stop the very people she talks free again. She said terrible things about you, in public. She showed you no respect.”
“So you went to her apartment, in the guise of a delivery person, stunned her, carried her to her bedroom, strangled her with piano wire. And cut out her tongue.”
“It was symbolic.”
“What was symbolic?
”
“Cutting out her tongue. She lied for a living. She lied about you. I was happy to kill her. It made me happy. I liked feeling happy.”
“So you killed her because she lied.”
“For you! For justice.” Lottie banged her fists on the table. “I’m so disappointed in you, Eve. I’m so disappointed.”
“I bet. Take me through it. Start to finish. Maybe there’s just something I’m missing.”
“I dreamed about it for a long time. Making a difference, a real difference. The way I thought you did. I watched you testify in the Barrow case. I testified in others, and had to sit there, just sit there and listen to her—to Bastwick and others like her—try to twist the truth. So I started a log, just watching her.”
“You followed her,” Eve prompted.
“She never saw me. Nobody did. Not in court, or her office, or shopping, or home. I made fake deliveries to her building three times before I was ready, and nobody paid any attention.”
“You practiced.”
“I didn’t want to make a mistake, and I didn’t. The same with Ledo, Hastings. Others.” She smiled a little. “There are so many. They never notice me. No one does. People notice you. I changed my hair.”
She fluffed at it.
“I see that.”
“I wore a wig at work the last few weeks, but at home, I could look at myself and see you in there. My eyes, too. I had to wear contacts over them, but I could see with your eyes. I saw Bastwick with your eyes. That’s how close we are, Eve. So we killed her. We killed Bastwick.”
“We?”
