"It's still attempted murder," she said conversationally. "They brought Murray back from the dead, but he's in a coma, and if he makes it he may be brain damaged."
"Murray?"
"Patrick Murray, another Dublin boy."
"I don't remember a Patrick Murray." His bony fingers moved through his disordered hair. His eyes looked blindly around the room. "I would—I would like some water."
"Sure, fine." She rose to fill a pitcher. "Why aren't you letting Roarke set up the lawyers?"
"This isn't his doing. And I have nothing to hide."
"You're an idiot." She slammed the pitcher in front of him. "You don't know how bad it can be once I turn the recorder on and start on you. You were at the scene of an attempted murder, caught by the primary investigator climbing out—"
"In," he snapped. Her tone had torn away the mists that kept closing in on his mind. "I was going into the tank."
"You're going to have to prove that. I'm the first one you're going to have to convince." She raked both hands through her hair in a gesture of fatigue and frustration that made Summerset frown. Her eyes, he noted, were reddened from the water, and deeply shadowed.
"I can't hold back with you this time," she warned him.
"I expect nothing from you
."
"Good. Then we start even. Engage recorder. Interview with subject Summerset, Lawrence Charles, in the matter of the attempted murder of Patrick Murray on this date. Interview conducted by primary, Dallas, Lieutenant Eve. Commence oh eight fifteen. Subject has been Mirandized and has waived counsel and representation at this time. Is that correct?''
"That is correct."
"What were you doing in the Mermaid Club at six-thirty in the morning?"
"I received a transmission at about six-fifteen. The caller didn't identify himself. He told me to go there, immediately and alone."
"And you always go to sex clubs when some anonymous guy calls you up at dawn and tells you to?"
Summerset sent her a withering look, which cheered her a bit. He wasn't down yet, she decided.
"I was told that a friend of mine was being held there, and that she would be harmed if I didn't obey instructions."
"What friend?"
He poured the water now, drank one small sip. "Audrey Morrell."
"Yeah, she was your alibi for Brennen's killing. That didn't pan out too well for you. Sure you want to use her again?''
"There's no need for sarcasm, Lieutenant. The transmission came in. It will be on the log."
"And we'll check that. So this anonymous caller tells you to get over to the Mermaid Club—you knew where it was?"
"No, I didn't. I am not in the habit of patronizing such establishments," he said so primly she had to stifle a snort. "He provided the address."
"Damn considerate of him. He tells you to get there or your girlfriend'll be in dire straights."
"He said—he indicated that he would do to her what had been done to Marlena."
A jolt of pity, of understanding, of great regret thudded through her. But she couldn't offer it. "Okay, you've got a cop in the house, but you don't bother to tell this cop of a possible abduction and/or assault."
His eyes were dark and cold on hers, but she saw the fear riding just behind the pride. "I am not in the habit of depending on the police department."
"If your story's clean, you wouldn't be sitting here if you had." Their eyes held as she leaned forward. "You're aware that there have been three murders and that you were under suspicion for those three murders. Though the evidence is circumstantial, and your testing results were negative, you weren't sitting on a garden bench there."