While McNab worked, Peabody handed Eve another flashlight from a field kit. Eve walked into the room.
Larger than the master bedroom and bath, she noted on her first scan. More a priority, she supposed, as he’d spend the biggest chunk of his time in this space. The long work counter of comps and comms and screens and other e-toys would likely give McNab a small orgasm—and whatever EDD dug out would surely add to the prosecution’s case.
She might not understand the geeky wonders of electronics, but she damn sure knew a stack of hard drives and motherboards when she saw them tidily stored on shelves.
She’d bet her magic coat they’d find the victims’ security equipment among them, waiting to be stripped for parts or used in builds.
She left that for the time being, angled her light to the left. She heard Peabody’s quickly indrawn breath, understood it. The droid looked very human, very beautiful. It wore the red cocktail dress and sparkling shoes, carried the red bird evening bag Nina Washington had described after the last murders.
Miko’s jewelry as well, Eve observed. Then she shined the light on a square-cut diamond and diamond-encrusted band on the third finger of the droid’s left hand.
All of the victims’ wedding rings had been stolen, but none matched this set.
“He put those rings on her finger. In his head, he married her. Replicated his aunt,” she said, “played dress up, and God knows what else with it. McNab, once you get those lights on, see what you can do with this droid.”
“Kept it all.” Tredway shined his beam over a large display table holding jewelry, three open cabinets carefully arranged with objets d’art and expensive dust catchers.
“Not only organized, boss,” Baxter pointed out, “but labeled. By victim. Jesus, the PA’s going to have a cakewalk.”
“Why walk in cake when you can eat it?” Eve queried, then lowered her flash after the lights snapped on.
“Trueheart, do a three-sixty record of this room before anybody touches anything.” When he didn’t respond, she turned toward him. He stood, staring at the droid.
“Detective Trueheart.”
“Sir. Sorry. I was just … It’s going to come out. How’s she going to feel when it comes out he used her to do all this? She’s probably a nice person, and it’s her own nephew. How’s she going to feel when all this comes out?”
“She’ll have to accept it had nothing to do with her. She’s as much an object to him as the stuff on those shelves. Get the three-sixty.”
As he did, Eve walked to the display table. He’d designed it in sections, with room for more. And had brass plates made. Every section, filled with shiny, glittery things, bore a name.
Rosa, Lori, Daphne, Miko.
Curious, she opened a drawer, found a collection of other plates, recognized several names of women on the list they’d created.
Future victims, she thought. Safe from him now.
“Dallas. Special little table over here.”
Eve crossed to Olsen. Under the glass top of a small, ornate table, one polished to a high gloss, a few pieces of jewelry rested on deep blue velvet. A single earring, a slim bangle bracelet, a pair of small hoop earrings, a necklace formed with multicolored beads.
“This is the sort of jewelry I can afford,” Olsen pointed out. “Everyday stuff—and the necklace is like something a clever kid might make. Like for his or her mother for a birthday or Mother’s Day.”
“Hers, the aunt’s. Maybe things he pocketed, during visits, things she’d think she lost or misplaced. Just a few tokens, probably from his childhood.”
“That’s my take. I recognize some of the things on the shelves from the stolen items, the insurance photos and descriptions.”
“And here’s a little dresser full of women’s fancy underwear.” Baxter gestured to a drawer he’d opened. “All labeled and organized. Got those little sachets in here with them.” He took one out, sniffed. “Nice.”
“You can bet that’ll be the aunt’s signature scent.” Peabody walked over to look. “And it’ll match the fancy perfume atomizer he’s got in the wardrobe area. All the cocktail dresses and shoes and bags on our list, Dallas. Along with perfume, a fancy hand mirror and brush set, a case of high-end droid cleaner.”
“Make sure it goes on the record.” She moved beyond the little table. “His dressing area. Let’s back up the record here, make sure we get it all. Costumes, makeup, work counter, wigs.”
“It’s a pro setup,” Peabody said. “It’s almost as good as the one at the studio. That tub there? It’s what they use for making prosthetics, like noses and—”
“Devil horns?” Eve suggested.
“Yeah.”
“Let’s pull in the sweepers. He’ll have had whatever he wore during the attacks cleaned, but there may be trace, may be blood.” As she spoke, she stepped over to a long black coat with a hood. “Give me the UV light from the kit. I can fucking smell blood on this.”
Peabody dug it out, switched it on. “Holy shit,” she said as the black coat lit up with spatters and smears of harsh purple.
“Didn’t get it cleaned yet. Busy boy. Tag it, bag it for the sweepers. I want this into the lab and tested asap.”
“Dallas?” McNab gestured her over to the droid. “She was programmed to respond only to Knightly’s voice and command. Pretty simple bypass. You can ask her questions now.”
“What is your name?”
The droid smiled. “I’m Astra. I’m so happy to see you, Kyle. I missed you, Kyle.”
“It’s the bypass,” McNab explained.
“When were you programmed?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Who programmed you?”
“I don’t understand. Do you need to punish me?”
Eve took a breath. “Who do you belong to?”
“I belong to Kyle. Only to Kyle. Do you want to fuck me now?” The droid rubbed her hands over her breasts. “I want you, Kyle. You’re the only one I want. You’re the best I’ve ever had. Tie me up, Kyle. Make me scream. Make me—”
“Enough. Shut her down, McNab, and start on the comps.”
She turned away, noticed Trueheart wasn’t blushing. Instead his eyes were hard as flint, all cop.
“All right, boys and girls, let’s see what else we can find so we can all eat cake.”
By the time they’d finished, Peabody chugged the water from the tubes McNab passed out. “This has to set a record for us. Most evidence ever bagged. Logging it’s going to take hours.”
“Won’t that be fun for some bored drone?” Eve glanced at her comm. “Knightly is booked—on the assaulting an officer charge—and already talking to his lawyer.”
“Not a lawyer in the history of lawyers who could spin this one,” Olsen said.
“They’ll try to make a case for insanity. We’re not going to let them. Baxter, I’ll get you and Trueheart back to your ride.”
“Don’t worry about it, boss. Trueheart’s got a buddy who’ll run us back to my baby in a black-and-white.”
“Even better. This was good work, everyone. Good, solid work. McNab, you buffed your e-creds today.”
“Thanks.”
“Keep buffing. Once the droid and the rest of the electronics are loaded for transfer, go with them, and keep digging.”
Hands rubbing together, McNab bopped his hips. “What’s it make me that I can’t freaking wait?”
“Top geek of the day. Olsen, Tredway, see you back at Central. Peabody, with me.”
“I want him in a cage,” Peabody began as they walked to the car. “For the rest of his life. Then I want him reincarnated as a slug and put in a tiny box for the rest of that life. Then he can come back as a cockroach. You get the idea.”
“It’s a really good idea.”
“But.” Peabody huffed as she settled into the car. “Don’t you figure he’s totally crazy?”
“He’s so bat-shit crazy he should come back as bat-shit in one of those lives. But he’s not legally insane. Not even close. He knew what he was doing, Peabody, every step of the way. Mira’s going to say the same.”
“I wonder if you can come back as bat-shit. It’s organic. Are there maybe fizzies in your vehicle AutoChef? I seriously need a boost.”
“I don’t know, try it.”
“You want?”
“Not one of those oversweet bubbly things that look like dyed slush.” She started to opt for coffee, then realized she needed something cold. She already had too much heat in her throat. “Pepsi.”
“Cherry fizzy, score! We’re going to have to tell the Patricks. The rest of the victims and survivors, but the Patricks … It’s almost as bad as when we had to tell Mr. Mira about his cousin.”
“Makes you wonder about cousins.”
“I’ve got dozens of cousins. Pretty great cousins.” She passed Eve the tube of Pepsi. “I don’t have to play good cop with Knightly, do I?”
“No, you don’t. We don’t need a confession. I’ll damn well get one, but we don’t need it. We’re going to hammer him, Peabody, give him a good taste of what it’s like to be trapped.
“Tag Reo, tell her we’re coming in. Mira, too.” Though she wished now she hadn’t said she would … “And Roarke.”
She hit lights and sirens. “I want to get started.”
* * *
When she strode into the bullpen, Jenkinson waved a hand. “Your asshole’s lawyer’s squawking about having a sit-down with you.”
“He’ll have to wait. Peabody, get the record of Knightly’s trophy room and workshop set up in Interview, and get the asshole and his lawyer brought up once you do.”
She walked to her office, decided coffee wouldn’t hurt after all, then sat to put together a big, fat file of photos and documents.
In the end, she used fat files for each set of victims, finishing the last as Reo came in.
“Do you want me in the box or in Observation?”
“Observation. I don’t want to get hung up on lawyer back-and-forthing right now. No deals on this, Reo.”
“So you said before, and what you showed us, briefly, from the suspect’s residence leaves no room and no need for any. I spoke with Mira. Her current analysis is the suspect is legally sane. Should that fall apart—”
“It won’t.”
“Should it,” Reo continued, “he’ll still spend the rest of his life caged.”
“I’ll get what you and Mira need. Then you’ll wrap him up. Max security, off-planet, consecutive life sentences.” She rose, hefted the files.
“Interview A,” Peabody said when Eve came out. “The commander had it held for us.”
“Handy.”
“They’re in there. Lawyer is Wesley Drummond—high-end celeb mouthpiece. I gotta say, Knightly looks really smug.”
“Not for long.”
Eve moved toward, and into, Interview A.
“Record on. Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody entering Interview with Knightly, Kyle, and his attorney, Drummond, Wesley.”
She paused, just a beat while she studied Drummond—ignoring the client.
Drummond looked slick and winter-tanned, wore a pin-striped suit she figured Roarke would approve of, a trim goatee, and a small silver hoop in one ear.
“Mr. Drummond, would you like to make a comment or statement before I read the charges into the record?”
“Thank you, Lieutenant, I would. I hope we can dispense of this matter without undue time or fuss on anyone’s part. While I concede you were authorized to enter and search my client’s home, we will dispute the reasoning used to obtain said warrant. My client was, naturally, shocked and upset by the intrusion and this invasion of his privacy. And given the strain of the assaults on members of his family, the threats on a family member only yesterday, his emotional state was and is, naturally, fractured. He acted rashly, however, he was arguably provoked and simply trying, as anyone would, to protect his rights and properties.”
“Uh-huh.” She tapped the bruise on her jaw. “By striking a police officer in the course of performing her duties.”
“I understand there was a scuffle. Surely all parties can admit tempers were high, and step back from this, avoid the negative media attention this will bring to your department.”
She said “Uh-huh” again. “So your only concern, at this time, is the initial charge of assaulting an officer? You’re not worried about the other charges?”
“What other charges?”
“Aw, Kyle, you didn’t tell him? I’ll just read them into the record so we all know where we stand, and who’ll be stepping back. Kyle Knightly, you are currently under arrest for assaulting an officer, with additional charges of resisting arrest—”
The lawyer made a pfft sound. Eve simply held up a finger.
“You are further charged with breaking and entering, illegal entry, theft, and possession of stolen goods.”
“Just one minute,” Drummond began.
“Oh, I’m not close to finished. Haven’t even got to the meat. To continue, you are charged with assault, assault with intent to cause bodily harm, enforced imprisonment, the torture of Neville Patrick and Rosa Patrick, with the additional charges of sexual assault and rape on the person of Rosa Patrick.”
“This is bullshit. Take care of this, Wesley.”
“What possible proof—”
“Not done,” Eve said again. “You are further charged with…” She repeated all, naming Ira and Lori. Then she continued on to the Strazzas. “You are additionally charged with the murder of Anthony Strazza. To wind it up, you are hereby charged with—”
She detailed the lesser charges in the case concerning the Strazzas.
“You are charged with rape and sodomy on the person of Miko Carver, and the murders of Miko and Xavier Carver. Did I miss anything, Peabody?”
“It’s a lot. It’s a whole cavalcade.”
“Further charges may be brought by the people of New York. But we’ll work with these for now. Peabody, just to keep the bow tidy, read Mr. Knightly his rights again.”
“Happy to.”
Eve could see the lawyer’s wheels turning as Peabody recited the Revised Miranda. She didn’t bother to sit.
“I would like some time to consult with my client.”
“Sure. Dallas and Peabody exiting Interview. Record off.”
She opened the door, looked back at Kyle with a wide smile, tapped her files. “Got it all.”
“He didn’t tell his lawyer?” Peabody shoved a hand through her hair. “Did he actually think we wouldn’t go into his locked room?”
“He’s a coward, and he was stalling. Trying to figure the way out, telling himself his pricey legal suit would get him out. We’re not finished with him, Peabody, and I don’t mean just here and now. We’re going to find the other women he molested or raped, document how he scared or bought them off from pressing charges. We’re going to hand that to Reo, too.”
Eve glanced at the door, shrugged. “They’re going to be a while. See if you can find and contact the woman his father paid off—the first one we found. Convince her to tell her story.”
“Can I tell her he’s been arrested, and the charges?”
“Not the charges, not in detail.”
Eve went back to her office, sat and studied her board. Then just closed her eyes until the lawyer sent word they were ready.
“I got her, Dallas. She relocated, married, took her husband’s name, but I got her. She says she’s put it all behind her, has nothing to say. But, my take? When we can tell her the charges, when we can tell her he’s going away? She’ll talk to us.”
“Good enough for now. Dallas and Peabody reentering Interview. So?” This time she sat, let the files drop with a weighty thump. “All set?”
“My client refutes all charges.”
“Seriously?”
“Lieutenant, this is no joking matter. These crimes are heinous, and even if the hint of them leaks into the media, my client’s reputation will suffer irreparable damage. Should this occur, you will have opened yourself and this department up to a civil suit.”
Eve began opening files, removing crime scene photos. “Neville and Rosa Patrick suffered irreparable damage. Lori and Ira Brinkman suffered irreparable damage.”
“None of those victims can identify my client as their attacker. I know Neville and Rosa personally and well. They would be appalled by these accusations, the outrageous and heinous accusations you’ve made against a member of their family.”
“I expect they will be. Did your client tell you about his treasure trove, his personal souvenir room? We got in, Kyle, in case you’re wondering. You’ve got some e-skills, but I had a master geek with me. He slid through your security like butter. Want to see what we found behind a locked door in your client’s residence, Mr. Drummond? On screen, Peabody.”
“Record of search, Knightly, Kyle’s residence, cue mark 33.42.6, on screen.”
Trueheart’s slow and steady three-sixty showed all.
“We’ve got your girlfriend up in EDD. She’s already talked to me.”
“Bullshit,” Kyle muttered, but was silenced by a sharp look from the lawyer.
“Owning a droid, having a private room, the equipment I see, the personal items, is hardly a crime. Is hardly evidence pertaining to accusations of this nature.”
“Zoom in, Peabody. You see here on this display cabinet the names of the female victims, and in each compartment so labeled are their personal items of jewelry taken from their homes on the nights of the attacks. You see here on the shelves…”
She waited for Peabody to adjust. “Other items listed as stolen on the nights of the attacks. The dresses—including the one the droid is wearing—were stolen from the female victims on the nights of the attacks. You see here the costumes and professional makeup and the props used by Mr. Knightly on the nights of those attacks, including the black coat tagged in this recording, and these black leather gloves on which we found blood, blood that has been matched to Miko and Xavier Carver. You see this weighted sap on which we found the blood of those victims, as well as traces of Anthony Strazza’s.
“How did all these items come to be in your possession, Mr. Knightly?”
“Please refer your questions to me,” Drummond told her.
“Why? He hasn’t told you dick. You know it, I know it. When did you get the idea for it, Kyle? The costumes, the drama of it? It had to take you a while to set it all up. We found the mini cams, and the recordings from them on your comp. Easy to see how you’d plant them in your cousin’s place—and you were smart enough to take them out on the night you beat the crap out of him and raped his wife. I figure you did some legwork, slipped into the other places—and the ones you’ve yet to hit.”
Keeping her gaze on Kyle’s, she leaned back. “Jacie and Roderick Corbo, Gregor and Camilla Jane Lester, Toya L’Page and Gray Burroughs—and more. We’ve got a team going to the residences on your target list, taking the cams you planted into evidence. You watched them in their own homes, you perverted little fuck—”
“Lieutenant!” Drummond objected, but she just rolled over him.
“You listened to the their private conversations. It gave you your windows—when they’d be out and gone, their schedules, their routines. And you watched those recordings in that room, imagining what you’d do to them, especially her.”
“Fix this.” Kyle turned on his lawyer. “Now. I’m not going to sit here and listen to this bullshit.”
“Lieutenant, I’d like another moment to consult with—”
“I don’t want to consult,” Kyle exploded. “I said fix this, and fix it now.”
“Lieutenant, I require time to speak to my client off this record.”
Eve shrugged, rose. “Dallas and Peabody exiting Interview. Record off.”
Peabody blew out a breath. “He really thinks the lawyer can just wave a magic lawyer wand and make it all go away.”
“Because it happened that way before. He gets in a little jam, somebody takes care of it. A bigger jam, somebody fixes it. I expect we’ll uncover a lot of that.”
“The thing is, the lawyer looks shocked, but not really surprised.”
“Good eye, Detective. He is shocked, but as it comes out, bit by bit, he’s starting to think of things, remember comments or gestures or behavior. Maybe he remembers funneling money to a woman who cried rape or abuse, a woman he probably didn’t believe at the time. Or he believed her, but tidied it all up for his client.”
Eve stepped aside when Drummond came out.
“Ready?”
“I … I am no longer Mr. Knightly’s attorney of record.”
“Probably a smart move on your part.”
“His choice, not mine. Still, I’ve never handled a capital case. Kyle … he needs an attorney experienced in capital crimes. He needs a psychiatric evaluation. He—”
“You’re not his lawyer,” Eve reminded him. “He’s entitled to one, as experienced as he can get. He will be evaluated. Excuse me.” She stepped back to the door, glanced back at him. “How many women? How many did you pay off after he raped them?”
Drummond merely shook his head. He looked sick, Eve thought, physically ill. But he shook his head and walked away.
She went into Interview.
“Record on. Dallas and Peabody reentering Interview. Mr. Knightly, have you dismissed your attorney?”
“Dismissed? I fired his useless ass.”
“Do you wish to contact and engage other legal representation at this time?”
“Oh, I’ll get legal representation.” Contempt rolled through his voice, glittered in his sneer. “I’ll get the best lawyers out there, believe it.”
“Do you wish to contact a lawyer at this time?”
“I need to do some research, conduct interviews.”
“Very well. Peabody, arrange for Mr. Knightly to be taken back to his cell.”
“Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit! I want a hearing.” He jabbed a finger on the table. “I want a goddamn hearing, I want bail, and I want out. Now.”
“None of those things are going to happen. You can bring Mr. Drummond back in to represent you, contact another lawyer or representative, waive your right to legal representation at this time and talk to us, or go back to your cell. That’s the full menu.”
“I know my rights.”
“You should, we’ve read them to you twice. And I don’t believe we’re the first. Where in there does it say Kyle gets to go home because he wants to?”
“You think you’re smart.” He let out a crack of a laugh. “You think swaggering around with a weapon and an attitude makes you sexy? Durn played you sexy. It’s called acting.”
“Choose. Lawyer, another lawyer, waive the lawyer and continue the interview, or go back to your cell.”
“I’m not going back to any cell. Sit down. And you.” He pointed at Peabody. “Go find somebody who knows what they’re doing around here and get me a hearing.”
“No.”
His nostrils actually flared. “What did you say?”
“No. Anyhow, are you waiving your right to legal representation at this time? Because otherwise, you’re heading back, and I can go grab a snack. I missed lunch.”
“Ha ha. You’re the funny one, right? Nothing funny about you. And you need to lose ten pounds.”
“Ouch.” Peabody looked at Eve, made exaggerating sniffing noises.
“Waive legal counsel at this time,” Eve snapped. “Yes or no. Any word other than yes, I take as a no and you’re in a cell.”
“Yes.” A note of panic escaped before he sat back, shrugged. “Why the hell not? It’s not like you two worry me. Get me a drink,” he told Peabody.
“Gee, I’d be happy to. Would you like me to make you a martini?”
“Could you?” Knightly said with a fresh sneer. “Make it a ginger ale, on ice, twist of lime.”
With a snort, and a nod from Eve, Peabody left the room.
“Peabody exiting Interview. Where do you want to start, Kyle, at the beginning or at the end?”
“You’ve barely got tits and a teenage boy’s ass. Still … How many of the brass did you have to fuck to make it to lieutenant?”
“But we’re not here to talk about my sexual habits, Kyle. This is all about you. You’re the star of the show. This whole place is buzzing about you. I’ve never seen anything like it, not even during the Icove mess.”
She paused a moment, gave him a thoughtful study. “Jesus, Nadine’s going to be all over this, probably get another book, another vid out of it, especially with the whole Oscar deal right now. I mean, look at you.”
She sighed, shook her head, could actually see him preen at the attention. “Brains, looks, money, style, and power, too. Add in a whole bunch of sex and it’s pretty heady. I hear people around here saying how Neville’s looking like a pussy, a limp-dicked pussy. I can’t argue it.”
“Because he is.”
“You sure as hell proved that. Screwing his wife right in front of his face. That shows who has the balls in the family.”
“I see what you’re doing.” Still smirking, Kyle circled a finger in the air. “You’re trying to butter me up.”
“Just saying what is. Why do you think she brushed you back the night you met, the night at that party when the three of you met?”
“She didn’t.”
“Really?” Eve frowned, consulted a file. “But she said—”
“She’s a liar. She said she was with that asshole when I gave her a tap, but she wanted me. Clear as day.”
“But … didn’t she leave with the asshole?”
“Only because I decided not to waste my time. And what does she do, she comes back.”
“To you? Do you mean later or that same night?”
“The same damn night. She used Neville, gave him the eye to get me stirred up, then she leaves with the asshole.”
“But she married Neville, even after you gave her a few more taps along the way. Did she do that to get you stirred up?”
“What do you think? You said it yourself, he’s a pussy.”
“Peabody reentering Interview.” Peabody slapped a tube of ginger ale (she’d deliberately ordered diet) on the table. “Take it or leave it.”
Kyle picked it up, cracked the tube, sipped while sending her a look of cold loathing.
“Okay, so Rosa married Neville to get you stirred up—because you’re the one she really wanted, at least sexually. And maybe—just a guess—she married him because he’s a pussy.”
Kyle shot out a finger. “Bing-fucking-o. You’re smarter than you look.”
“Smart enough to know a lot of women say one thing and mean another. Some women, probably most women, they marry a pussy because they figure they can control him, get everything they want. But a real man, a man with real balls, he controls them, and they do what he wants. Like you. People do what you want. Actors, directors, lawyers. Women.”
“I built my own studio.”
“Well, you and Neville.”
“Hell, I could’ve done it without him. I took him along for the ride.”
“It sounds like you did him a favor.”
“He’s my cousin,” Kyle pointed out. “We go back, and he’s got good ideas. He needs me to jump-start them, implement. He puts in his share, the time, the money. But I’m the one with vision.”
“So you brought him along for the ride, Rosa married him because he’s a pussy. He sure sounds like a weak sister. Does he take after his mother or his father?”
“His father’s worse than Nev, trust me. No balls, no spine. Second-rate director.”
“Interesting. Did your aunt stay married to him to stir you up, Kyle?”
Eve slid a photo of Astra Patrick out of the file.