“It’s lies, Daddy. She
’s lying to you. I’m your best girl. I’m…Mommy did it! I saw her do it, Daddy. She pushed Trev, and then she killed Mr. Foster and Mr. Williams. I didn’t want to tell on her, Daddy. I didn’t want them to take her away from us. I—”
“Stop. Oh, God.” He covered his face with his hands. “Oh, God.”
“Take her, Peabody. Take her, Mira, and the CP agent to Central. I’ll follow as soon as I can.”
“You’ll pay,” Rayleen said to Eve under her breath as Peabody signaled a uniform to help her. “You’ll pay, just like the others. I’ll enjoy you the most.”
“Spoiled brats don’t scare me. Read her her rights, Peabody, and book her, three counts murder one, one attempted murder. We’ll add on Adele Versy when we have that locked in.”
“Daddy! Don’t let them take me away from you! Daddy!”
Eve turned away and walked toward Straffo without looking back. “Let’s go sit down, Oliver.”
“I have nothing left. I have nothing. That’s my child. She…I made her.”
“You didn’t. Sometimes the unspeakable can come from the decent. And sometimes, it’s possible to make yourself decent out of the unspeakable. I know about this.”
Eve put her hand on his arm, then stood where she was as she saw Louise coming toward them.
“Mr. Straffo.”
He looked at Louise. “She’s dead. Allika.”
“No, she’s conscious. She isn’t lucid, not yet, and I can’t make you any promises. But she needs you with her now. She’s confused and disoriented, and she needs you. Let me take you to her now.”
“Allika.” He turned desperate, streaming eyes to Eve. “Rayleen.”
“How much do you love your wife, Oliver? How much do you love your son?”
Weeping, nodding, he let Louise lead him away.
EPILOGUE
AFTER THE LONG, MISERABLE PROCESS, EVE WALKED BACK TO her office.
And there was Roarke, sitting at her desk, working on her comp.
“Police property, pal.”
“Mmm-hmm. Just passing the time with a little work, which is now on its way to my home unit.” He swiveled around. “You’ve had a rough one, Lieutenant.”
“I’ve had rougher, that’s what I keep telling myself. You should’ve gone home.”
“And I told myself you might need me.” He rose, wrapped his arms around her. “Do you?”
“Oh, yeah.” She let out a long sigh. “I thought, hoped I’d feel better after this part was done. When I got the answers, tied it up, got her booked, and started the process, I’d feel better. Satisfied. I can’t figure out, not exactly, how I do feel.”
“Sorry for Oliver and Allika Straffo, sick to think of some poor, innocent little boy, some old woman, or a good man, a good teacher who died because of a selfish child’s ego. And sorry for the wife who will grieve for him.”
“I got in touch with her, Foster’s wife, told her we’d closed the case and I was coming by to explain it to her. Jesus.” She shut her eyes. “You should go home.”
“No, what I’ll do is go with you.”
“Yeah.” Now she sighed. “That would help. She used tears on the CP agent. They’re working. They’re not working on Mira. The arraignment’s set for tomorrow. Meanwhile, due to the heinous nature of the crimes, and with no parental dissent, she’s being held in adult lockup—separated from the general population. You heard it, didn’t you? All of it.”
“I did, yes. And in my life I don’t believe I’ve heard anything quite so chilling.”