“Yes.”
“Will you, when I’m in prison, will it be possible to get an update on Carly’s state of mind, on how she is? Nothing intrusive. Just if there’s a way I could be told she’s all right.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Eve hesitated, swore. “Record off,” she ordered, and blanked out the sound and visual to observation. “Get a lawyer who knows how to spin the media, not just one who’s tough in court. Better, get one of each. You want to sway public opinion. You want people to hear the story, all of it, and feel sympathy for you, disgust for Draco. Stop waiving your damn rights, and don’t talk to me again, or any other cop, without your attorney present.”
Amused, Areena lifted her eyebrows. “Do you save everyone, Lieutenant?”
“Shut up and listen. Go for diminished capacity and extreme emotional distress. Even with the premeditation, it’s not much of a stretch. You killed the man abusing your daughter, and a blackmailer. If it’s played that way, it’s going to generate a lot of media in your favor.” And she could tap Nadine to see that it swung that way. “The DA’s not going to want the mess of a long, public trial with mothers picketing outside the courthouse and city hall. And they will. He’ll offer you a deal. You may spend time in a cage, but if you’re lucky, you’ll get a hefty stretch of home incarceration with a bracelet, and another chunk of severe parole.”
“Why are you doing this for me?”
“Isn’t there some saying about looking gift horses in the mouth?”
“Yes. Very true.” Areena got to her feet. “I wish, well obviously, I wish we’d met under different circumstances.” She held out her hand. “Good-bye, Lieutenant.”
Eve clasped her hand, let the grip hold.
• • •
When she walked back into her office, Roarke was there. She picked up her jacket, her bag. “What do you say we get the hell out of here?”
“I like the idea.” But he caught her hand, ran his gaze over her face. “You look lighter, Lieutenant.”
“I am. Considerably.”
“And Areena?”
“She’s a hell of a woman. It’s weird.” As she puzzled it, she sat on the edge of the desk. “It’s the first time in eleven years on the job I’ve ever come across a killer I admire, and a victim I couldn’t…”
“Care about,” Roarke finished.
“I’m not supposed to care one way or the other. I’m just supposed to do the job.”
“But you do care, Lieutenant. Brutally, you care. And this time you ran up against someone you were obliged to stand for who deserved exactly what he got.”
“Murder’s never deserved,” she said, then made a small sound of impatience. “Hell with it. Justice was served in a courtroom. It might have been onstage, but it wasn’t make-believe. There was no pretense when Areena Mansfield picked up that knife and rammed it into the heart Richard Draco didn’t have. And when she took that step, that stand, justice was served.”
“She’ll have the jury eating out of her hand. Before it’s over, they’ll canonize her rather than convicting her. You know that.”
“Yeah. Hell, I’m counting on that. You know what I figured out, pal?”
“Tell me.”
“You can’t go back. Can’t fix what broke. But you can go forward. And every step matters. Every one makes a difference.” She pushed away from the desk, cupped his face in her hands. “From where I’m standing, you’re the best step I ever took.”
“Then let’s take the next, and go home.”
She walked out with him, and because it fit the mood, took his hand in hers. She would sleep that night. She would sleep clean.