“I was going for formidable.”
“Oh, you passed formidable, cruised by intimidating, and hit dead-on scary.”
“Even better.”
Eve used her communicator, texted Peabody.
Wrap it. He won’t budge. We can try again after we interview Harper, but he’s Reo’s now.
“I’m sending for Ebersole.”
“Good. He’s still without counsel. Not only has word gotten out, but that feed. They’ll have to settle for someone hungry enough for the fee. My impression is they’ve been advised to work a deal, but so far, she’s not willing.”
“That’s why he’s first.” Eve rolled her shoulders, circled her neck muscles. “I can break him.”
“Counting on it. I’ll be here, wishing I had popcorn. Mira?”
“She’ll be here.”
Once Jessup was taken back to a cell, Eve met Jenkinson and Peabody.
“He’s got a thing for Phoebe Harper,” Jenkinson told her. “I think a mom thing, not a sex thing. Sex thing we could crack. But a mom thing?” He shook his head. “It’s a tougher nut.”
“We don’t need him, and he earned the twenty he’ll do inside. Just one more life in the shitter.”
“I’ll write it up. Hey, I heard we’re having a cookout at your place Saturday.”
“Correct, and it’s casual. No ties.”
He just grinned. “I got a shirt that’s killer.”
She couldn’t imagine it, and decided as he strolled back to the bullpen, she didn’t want to.
“Ebersole and Mira, both on the way. Do you want a break?”
“No. I’m rolling.”
“Coffee, my office. I’ll tell you how I think we play this.”
They’d put him in an orange jumpsuit. In addition, he wore restraints on his wrists and ankles.
Eve saw fear, and could smell it. But he covered it with arrogance.
“Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, Peabody, Detective Delia, entering Interview with Ebersole, Jonathan.”
She read off the various files, including those pertaining to the aborted escape.
Then she sat, smiled. “Well, Jonathan, you’re completely fucked.”
“I don’t have to talk to you. I have nothing to say to you. I want to speak with my mother.”
“No, you don’t have to talk to us. Detective, remind me. Is speaking to Mommy included in the prisoner’s rights?”
“No, sir, it’s not.”
“I didn’t think so. Your mother’s in a cell, Jonathan, and she’s going to stay in one for about a half century.”
He smirked. “No, she won’t. When our lawyers get here, we’re out. You might end up in one though.”
