Apprentice in Death (30 page)

“I can do what I want!” Willow shoved the fizzy aside. “Maybe I was thinking—because I'm
allowed
to think—how it would be after they came back, after they all went to bed. Maybe I was thinking how it might feel to take out a target up close, with a knife. Like I almost did you.”

Eve held up her bandaged hand. “Not even close.”

“Close enough.”

“Take out the kid first—he's the prime target.”

“You don't know dick about tactics. You take out the biggest threat first, moron. I'd slit Stuben's throat. That's quick, that's quiet. And he's nothing. He's always been nothing.”

“And then?”

“Then good tactics say I incapacitate Zoe, then restrain her. That gives me time to get the kid, wrap him up, haul him down.”

Her eyes glowed as she spoke, as she, Eve was sure, saw it all so clearly. “Hurt him a little—just a little so when she comes around she sees he's hurt, sees he's bleeding. I let her beg—the bedroom's
soundproofed. Hell, she can scream if she wants. But if she screams, I'll just slit his throat. But she can beg, she can tell me why in the hell I shouldn't kill him. Why I shouldn't kill this runt she should never have had. This whining little baby she had to replace
me
.

“Then she has to watch me gut him like a deer, just the way I've wanted to since he was born. I save her for last so she can see. With her? I slice her wrists so she bleeds out slow. So I can watch her die, inch by inch.”

“I was wrong. You hated her most.”

“She threw my father away. She took him away from me. She tried to replace him and me with Stuben, with his ugly little spawn. She deserved to see them dead and to know she caused it. She's the reason why.”

Willow gestured with her cup. “I could be set up for the school the next morning, before anybody knew they were dead. I could make history.”

“Because you know the school, the routine, when students start arriving.”

“I guarantee I could have taken down three, maybe four dozen targets before they managed to lock it down. Recalibrate, take out maybe a dozen a couple blocks over to add some confusion, and then? Cops, reporters, parents, idiots who just want to look—plenty of them would be in range. I'd have a clean hundred before I broke it down. Nobody's ever done that many alone, at that distance. But I could.”

“Making you the best.”

“I am the best. That would just be the mark in history.”

“Your father wouldn't have gone for it.”

“I could've brought him around if everything had gone the way we wanted with his agenda. I do his, I get mine. It's fair. He was weak, and this was making him strong again. I'd even have given him a year or two in Alaska for it. But I deserved mine.”

Eve waited a long beat. Color had flashed in Willow's face, as it had
in her father's. But hers was both rage and pride. It wasn't madness in her eyes—not the kind that didn't know right from wrong. It was the kind that didn't give a damn.

“You're saying that conspiring with your father, you killed the twenty-five people named during this Interview, and had planned to kill others, also named herein.”

“That's right, and I'm not saying it all again.”

“That won't be necessary. You've also stated that you, individually, planned to murder Zoe Younger, Lincoln Stuben, and Zach Stuben—additionally torturing Younger and Zach Stuben before ending their lives.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Wasn't I clear enough? I can plan all I want.”

“You additionally stated you planned to attack Hillary Rodham Clinton High School and other areas in its vicinity in the hopes of killing one hundred people.”

“World record. You cost me the world record. Being a cop's a dangerous job. Something bad could happen to you, like a year from now. Or, say
three
years from now.” Willow laughed into her fizzy. “Three's a good number.”

“You think so? How about I pay you a visit, let's say three and a half years from now. In your cage on Omega.”

“I won't be there. You, all of you, you're so stupid. You're all morons.”

Now she threw back her head and laughed loud and long.

“You wanted me to confess to all this? No problem. I
want
you to know what I did. Write it up, shout it out. I deserve getting credit for what I did, what I can do. And in under three years, when I turn eighteen, I walk out.”

“Is that so?” Eve tipped back in her chair. “How do you figure?”

“I
heard
you, you idiots. My father made a deal. He puts me first, and he made a deal. He'd tell you all this shit, and you try me as a minor. I'm out at eighteen, because, hey, I'm just a kid.”

“So you think you can cold-bloodedly murder—with premeditation—twenty-five people, injure scores of others, plot to murder—what was that number? Oh, yeah—one hundred more, and walk away free in under three years.”

“Burns your skinny ass, doesn't it? You put all that time into finding me, got banged up pretty good, too. You had cops all over me, but I still racked them up. But you needed my father to find me, and he looks out for me. So I do under three in some lame juvenile facility, then I'm out. It burns your ass.”

“One of the things about being a cop is understanding it's the job to apprehend criminals, to gather evidence, which is then given to someone like Reo who carries the ball from there.”

“Yeah, and people like her?” Willow shot a finger at Reo. “It's all about the deal, the quick fix, the easy way. She didn't want to put me on the stand anyway. Boo-hoo, I'm only fifteen. I was misled.” All but dancing in the chair, Willow howled with laughter. “I would
kill
on the stand with that bit. It's almost too bad I won't get the chance to drown a bunch of bleeding hearts on the jury with my teenage tears.”

“Yeah, that would be a show,” Eve agreed. “It's one I'm looking forward to, because you're right, Willow, you're dead on the mark. It would burn my ass for you to do what you've done, be what you are, and walk out at eighteen to do it all over again. If that were the case.”

“You made the deal,” Willow said to Reo.

“I did.”

“Then how are you going to stop me? Bitch.”

“I don't have to. You stopped yourself—with some help from your father.” Eve held up her wounded hand, gave it a study, and said, with a smile, “Ow.”

“You want to tag on assault on a cop? Go ahead. It's all in the same deal.”

“Yeah, it is. Reo, maybe you should explain the deal to her.”

“Happy to.” Reo opened her briefcase, took out a hard copy of the agreement. “You're free to look this over yourself. The prosecuting attorney for the city of New York agreed to try one Willow Mackie as a minor for all crimes committed
before
the signing of said agreement on the following conditions. One, that information given by Reginald Mackie led to the arrest of the aforesaid Willow Mackie. Secondly, the agreement would become void, all terms, in the event Willow Mackie killed or injured any person or persons subsequent to the filing of the agreement.”

“That's bullshit. She attacked me. I was defending myself.”

“Lieutenant Dallas incurred injuries at your hand during the course of your arrest. You resisted arrest, assaulted police officers—that's armed assault, by the way—and, in fact, confessed in this Interview the intent to kill Lieutenant Dallas.”

“Ow,” Eve said again. “In addition, the information your father gave us led us to a dead end. He said nothing regarding the townhouse where you were located, therefore none of the terms of the deal were met.”

“You set me up, it's entrapment—and none of this bullshit in here will hold up. I
heard
you arguing about how you couldn't try me as an adult because of the deal.”

“Really?” Reo shifted to Eve, blue eyes open and sincere. “I don't believe we mentioned the deal—already voided prior to this Interview—or any of the terms within. On the record.”

“Nope. Sure didn't. Why would we? It didn't apply. You're going down—bitch—for twenty-five counts of murder, for conspiracy to murder, for multiple assaults with a deadly. Then there's attempted murder on a police officer, assault with a deadly on same. There's possession of illegal weapons, possession and use of false identification. And the record will show, in your own words, your intent to murder your family and others.

“I see a hundred years—maybe more—of life in a cage on Omega. The sun's not going to shine for you again, Willow.”

“It'll never happen.” But for the first time, fear lit in Willow's eyes. “I'm fifteen. You're not going to lock me up forever when I'm only fifteen.”

“Keep thinking that—and maybe touch base with Rayleen Straffo if you see her on Omega. She was ten when I closed the cage door on her. You guys should really hit it off.”

“I know my rights! I know my rights! None of this Interview is valid. I'm a minor. Where's my child services representative?”

“You never asked for one—and . . .” Reo took another document out of her briefcase. “We obtained your mother's permission to interview you.”

“She can't speak for me.”

“Legally, she can. Of course, if you'd asked for a representative, or a lawyer, one would have been provided for you.”

Reo folded her hands neatly on her briefcase. “Willow Mackie, you have confessed, on this record, in detail, to the charges Lieutenant Dallas listed. There are more to add. Given the vicious and violent nature of your crimes, you will be held to account for them as an adult.”

“I want a lawyer. Now. I want a rep from child services.”

“Do you have a lawyer you wish to contact?”

“I don't know any fucking lawyers. Get me one, and I mean now.”

“Arrangements will be made to obtain legal counsel for you, and though you are considered an adult in these matters, child services will be contacted. Do you have anything to add?”

“Fuck you. Fuck all of you. I'm going to fucking
end
all of you.”

“Well then.” Reo rose.

“Peabody, have the prisoner returned to her cell. Interview end.” Eve got to her feet. “It's the plushest accommodation you're going to have for the next century.”

“I'll find a way.” Though her eyes burned with hate, with rage, and stayed steady on Eve's, her hands trembled.

“You locked your own door,” Eve said, and walked out.

Eve went straight to her office. She wanted coffee. Actually, she wanted a really big, really stiff drink, but coffee would do.

Reo followed her in. “I've got to deal with the next steps of this, but I wanted to say, before I do, you played her perfectly in there.”

“Wasn't hard. She wanted to brag, wanted to rub it all in my face—or authority's face. I just gave her the platform. Lock her up tight, Reo, tight and long.”

“You can count on me.”

“I am.”

Alone, she turned to the board, to the dead.

“You've given them justice,” Mira said from the doorway.

“I brought her in. The rest is up to Reo and the courts.”

“You've given them justice,” Mira repeated. “And saved unknown others from ending up on your board. You convinced her to reveal herself—and believe me, Eve, that record will be studied by psychiatrists, by law enforcement, by legal minds for decades.”

“I barely had to bait her, she was so primed to show off how smart she is, how much better she is.”

“You never lost control, and never let her see you were in control throughout. Her narcissism, her utter disregard for any semblance of a moral code, her need to be first, and her enjoyment of the kill, it came through so clearly. Some will argue her adolescence and her father's influence drove her to do the unspeakable.

“It won't fly,” Mira added as Eve spun around. “She's calculating, organized, intelligent. She's a psychopath, and one who was given permission by a parent to embrace her desire to kill. I can promise you I'll tear down any attempt by her lawyer to build her as a misguided teenager, coerced and manipulated by her father. Trust me on that.”

Count on Reo. Trust Mira. “I do. I do, and that'll help me sleep tonight.”

“You should go home, get started on that.”

“Yeah, working toward that.”

But before she could get out of her office, Whitney walked in.

“Good job, Lieutenant.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You locked her up with her own words, but that doesn't negate the work that went into getting her in the box. Today, at least, the city's a safer place. I need you in the media center in ten.”

She literally felt everything in her sag. “Yes, sir.”

“I'd take this off you if I could. But the fact is, the people of New York deserve to hear from the primary of the investigation that identified and apprehended the two people who terrorized them for nearly a week.

“Turn that around,” he added. “In under a week you and your team identified and apprehended two people who, if still at large, would surely be responsible for more deaths. Chief Tibble and I will both attend, but we agree the statement comes from you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then get the hell out of here, Dallas, and get some ice on that eye.”

When she went out to the bullpen, she saw Roarke talking with Lowenbaum beside Peabody's desk. Lowenbaum broke off, stepped to her, held out a hand.

“Thanks.”

“Back at you.”

“Buy you a drink?”

“Media conference, then I'm going to sleep for a couple years. After that.”

“Deal.”

She turned to Roarke, shoved a hand through her hair. “It's going to
be a little while longer. We've got a media conference, then I'll deal with the paperwork, and we can go.”