Whitney’s lips tightened. “I considered it understood I wanted both of you here, and neither of you in the field at this time.”
“I apologize for the misunderstanding, Commander.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Dallas, I’m not in the mood. I’ve read your report, and it’s my opinion that you’re putting this investigation, and this department, in a very tenuous position.”
“I disagree, respectfully. Sir.”
“You’re pursuing an avenue that is fraught with land mines, and pursuing it without any solid physical evidence, any solid facts.”
“Again, sir, I disagree. The suspect—”
“The child,” he corrected.
“The suspect is a minor. That doesn’t preclude her from being capable of murder. Children have been known to kill, and to kill with malice. With intent, even with glee.”
Whitney laid the palms of his hands on his desk. “This girl is the daughter of one of the city’s most prominent defense attorneys. She is well educated, she is the product of a privileged home, and even according to your own report has never been involved in any crime, much less one of violence. Has never been treated for any emotional or mental instability. Dr. Mira?”
“Children do commit violent acts,” Mira began. “And while there are certainly cases where a child of this age, even younger, has killed, such cases usually involve other children. Such cases are most generally preceded by smaller acts of violence. On pets, for instance. Rayleen Straffo’s profile doesn’t indicate any predilection for violence.”
Eve had expected barriers to be erected, but it didn’t stop the frustration. “So because her father’s rich and she aces it in school and doesn’t kick little puppies, I should step back from what I know.”
“What do you know?” Whitney interrupted. “You know that this girl attended a school where two teachers were murdered. So did over a hundred other children. You know that her mother had admitted to having a brief affair with the second victim.”
Eve got to her feet; she couldn’t handle this sitting down. “I know that the suspect found the first victim, that she had opportunity in both cases, I know that she had the means. I’ve spoken with her aunt, and have learned that the suspect had access to castor beans, and was showed how the oil was made from them. I know that she did, in fact, have a diary that she removed from the penthouse before the search, giving same to a friend to hold until yesterday.”
Whitney inclined his head. “You have this diary?”
“I don’t. I believe the suspect has hidden or destroyed it, or is currently keeping it on her person. She removed it because it would incriminate her.”
“Eve, a great many young girls keep diaries, and consider them sacred and private,” Mira began.
“She’s not a young girl in anything other than years. I’ve looked at her. I know what she is. You don’t want to look,” she said, whipping back to Whitney. “People don’t want to look at a child, at the innocence of the face and form, and see evil. But that’s what’s in her.”
“Your opinion, however passionate, isn’t evidence.”
“If she were ten years older, five years older, you wouldn’t question my opinion. If you can’t trust my instincts and intellect and my skill, let me factor in more data. I killed at eight.”
“We’re aware of that, Eve,” Mira said gently.
“And you think I look at her and see myself? That this is some sort of transference?”
“I know when we spoke at the early stages of this investigation you were troubled. You were upset and very stressed over a personal matter.”
“Which has nothing to do with this. It may have distracted me, and that’s on me. But it doesn’t apply to my conclusions in this case. You’re not letting me do the job because of this bull.”
“Careful, Lieutenant,” Whitney warned.
She was done being careful. “That’s what she’s counting on. That we’ll all be so fucking careful. That we won’t look at her because she’s a nice little girl from a nice family. She killed two people inside of a week. And she’s got me beat, because she killed at seven. Not her father, but her two-year-old brother.”
Whitney’s eyes narrowed. “You included the information on Trevor Straffo in your earlier reports, and the investigator’s report, the ME’s report, which both concluded accidental death.”
“They were both wrong. I’ve spoken with Allika Straffo.”
While Eve fought to make her case and Peabody sat in the Met’s security office scanning the screens for Rayleen, Allika sent Cora away again.
“It’s your half-day off.”
“But you don’t look well, missus. I’m happy to stay. I’ll make you some tea.”