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.”
“Yeah, we’ll get that. And we’re going to pile it on from there.”
“My ass is now available for grabs,” McNab announced, and was ignored by both women.
“I guess Juanita forgot to toss the ’link,” Peabody commented.
“No. She didn’t forget. She needed it, needed to play it back before she did him, after she’d done him. She needed to hear what Penny fed her, to help ease her conscience. We’ll get Soto on this count, and we’ve got some weight toward the bombings. But we haven’t got a lock there.”
Need to turn the key a little more, Eve thought. Just a little more.
“Then there’s the accessory after the fact on Flores and Ortega, the fraud,” she continued. “The fraud’s going to help lock down the accessory. If we do this right, she’s never going to see the light of day again. So we’re damn well going to do it right.”
Her ’link beeped. A glance at the incoming display told her Roarke was tagging her back. “Get me a conference room. I want Baxter and Trueheart.”
“They’re on Penny.”
“Relieve them, bring them in. Briefing in thirty. Now,” she added, “and take your ass with you.” She answered the ’link. “Dallas.”
“What can I do for you, Lieutenant?”
“Have you got a property-commercial or residential-preferably on the Upper East Side that’s not tenanted?”
“I imagine I do. Why?”
“I need it for a few hours.”
“Are we having a party?”
“Sort of. In El Barrio or close would be the icing.”
“How about a nice four-story duplex on East 95th, currently being rehabbed?”
“Did you just pull that out of your ass?”
“No. I looked it up.” He sent her a quick, cocky smile. “Is that what you had in mind?”
“Pretty much nailed it. I need the exact address, a legal description, current market value, all that kind of crap. If I could get it, and the pass codes for the locks, by…” She checked the time. “… by sixteen hundred, it would hammer that nail.”
“I thought we were icing a cake. In any case, I’ll get back to you.”
Eve studied the map again. It could work. It would work. She contacted Feinburg again. “You’re going to need to come down to Central.”
“Lieutenant, as I tried to explain before, I have clients scheduled all day.”
“You’re going to have to reschedule anything you’ve got cooking for the rest of today. I need you here, Homicide Division, within the hour. You don’t want it getting out, to those clients, that you’ve been strung along on a major fraud scam, which included multiple murders, for the last six years. Right?”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Damn right you will,” Eve mumbled after she’d cut transmission.
She gathered what she needed, checked to see which conference room Peabody had booked, then contacted the commander to update him while she was on the move.
“The voiceprints along with Turner’s statement are enough to bring her in on the St. Cristóbal’s case.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We want that closed down, Lieutenant. There’s going to be a lot of sympathy for Turner, a lot of media attention. Having Soto locked to it will defuse some of that.”
“I intend to lock her to it, and to a lot more. This op will do it. She’ll bite. It’s greed that had her set Juanita up to kill Lino. It’s greed that’ll have her walking right into this. She won’t be able to help herself. And once she does, she’s locked for the fraud, and the fraud locks her to Flores and Ortega, possibly Chávez. Three additional murders.”
“Suspected.”
“Yes, sir. I can use some of that, will use some of that to grease the rails and get the confession for the bombings.”
“You’ve got the day, you’ve got the op. Anything starts to slip or slide, you nail up the St. Cristóbal’s case. Nail it tight.”
“Yes, sir.” She clicked off, stepped into the conference room.
“Relief is heading uptown, Lieutenant,” Peabody began. “Baxter and Trueheart will head back as soon. It’s going to be more than thirty.”
“Okay. Contact Detective Stuben at the Four-six, ask if he and his former partner want any piece of this.”
“Can I tell him piece of what?”
“Of closing their cases. Are you still here?” she asked McNab.
“You said briefing, and didn’t tell me to go away.”
“Actually, I can use you. I’ve got the lawyer this skank’s been using coming in. I need you to set him up at a D amp;C so it transmits like it’s from his own. She may know how to check that, Lino could have shown her how to verify transmissions. And I want it right here. I want any incomings traced and copied-and whatever you e-geeks do to ID them to a specific unit and location and account.”
“Can do.”
“Then do.” Eve slapped a photo of Penny Soto to the center of a board. “Because she goes down today.”
Within the hour she had the room set, with McNab refining the details of an e-station. On the board, surrounding Penny’s photo were photos of every victim who could be associated with her.