Tall, smooth, and elegant, the media liaison extended a hand. “Congratulations, Lieutenant, on a virtually surgical bust. Two, actually, considering last night. I understand you have important work yet, but a namelike Phoebe Harper draws ratings and clicks. As does preventing the escape of an alleged serial killer—who happens to be her son.”
Blah, blah, bollocks, blah, Eve thought again.
“I want to keep this brief.”
“Also understood. May I say you look particularly well today?”
She gave him a narrow-eyed stare. “I’ve always thought you’re not an asshole, Kyung. Don’t make me change my mind.”
He just smiled at her, then gestured her out to the packed media room.
She got through it, but could only think she’d never get that twenty minutes back. Still, since he’d kept it to twenty despite more shouted, repetitive, and often—to her mind—stupid questions, Kyung retained his status of not an asshole.
She swung into Observation, noted Reo had joined the interview. Which meant they’d made a deal. She listened briefly as the tech and McNab spoke in their native tongue.
She went back to her office, and thinking of Roarke’s morning advice, took off her jacket. At her desk, she did deeper runs on Mikah Jessup, then Phoebe Harper.
When Peabody came in, she glowed.
“We got reams of details. She contacted him personally, told him his previous work for her company had been exemplary, and she needed just that again, and immediately. He claims she gave him a whole line about persecution, false imprisonment, planted evidence. He admitted he didn’t much care either way. Because she transferred five million into an account for him—up front. And he’d get another five after, along with a private shuttle to his choice of Palawan.”
“Where?”
“Palawan. I had to look it up. It’s an archipelago in the Philippines. The ten million and island life—she also promised him a villa—seemed like a mag idea. Reo ended up giving him the six months. He has thereceipts, Dallas. He was to stay in the penthouse, with the monitor, until she contacted him to say they were in the air. He listened to conversations in the penthouse, how they checked the plans, arranged for the shuttle, how Jessup was to drive back after they took off, park in the garage, leave the car.
“He saw Harper give Ebersole the new ID—including the passport. She already had a bag packed for him. She gave him a new ’link, promised to stay with him until he settled in Caracas, and quizzed him on his new background and name.
“She’d already opened an account for him in Caracas under that name. Seeded it with a hundred million. You know, just to get him started.”
Peabody took a breath. “Dallas, she told him she was buying him his own gallery, along with the villa.”
“And she expected to get away with all of it, just go back and pick up her life as usual. Some people have too much money, and I know how that sounds coming from me.”
“No. Roarke’s the most generous person I know. He’s not selfish, self-serving, and he, well, screw it, he has honor. Phoebe Harper just doesn’t have honor.”
“No, she doesn’t.”
“She has to know, Dallas. She has to know Ebersole killed three people, planned to kill more. But she’d set him loose. Not get him help, but set him loose, set him up like a fucking king.
“Those people.” Not glowing now, but fired up, Peabody pointed at the board. “Their lives are nothing to her. She’s worse than her son. She’s worse.”
“You’re right. She’s worse. Do what you can with Jessup, then we’ll take Ebersole. Do you know if they’ve lawyered?”
“The last we heard, Harper’s working on it—or has her husband working on it. Reo was right. A lot of top firms won’t touch this, especiallywith the live feed out there. Jenkinson’s with me. McNab’s writing the tech interview up. I can follow most of the geek speak, but some of this went over my skill set.”
Eve gave it an hour, then took a turn in Observation. Jessup sat without counsel, and sat resolute to her eye. Not going to break.
Jenkinson hit hard. He had crime scene photos of the victims on the table, he used their names. He pushed, snarled, and looked fierce despite the mutant, bug-eyed fish swimming over his tie.
In contrast, Peabody spoke of loyalty, of how it could be misplaced and exploited. Of the victims as people with hopes and dreams.
Reo stepped in, watched with her.
“He’ll do the twenty.”
Eve nodded. “Yeah, he will.”
“Good look,” Reo added after a quick up-and-down study of Eve. “Damn good look. Weapon on your side, biceps cut, and glorious little diamonds in your ears.”
