“Yes, all those areas are vulnerable points. He’s become not only addicted to the game, but may have lived inside it for some time. It’s a more exciting reality, one where he controls all—but stands aloof. He didn’t engage in play with you.”
“He’s a coward.”
“Yes, but one who believes himself superior. You only won because you cheated. He believes that, too.?
?
“The game was the weapon, he controlled the game. Can we charge him with First Degree on Minnock?” Eve asked Reo.
“Tricky. It could be argued he only intended Minnock to play, and that the victim could have won. And we have no proof Minnock wasn’t fully aware of the technology when he himself started the game.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“I agree, but I can’t prove it beyond a reasonable doubt in court. We go for Man One—just hear me out,” she said before Eve could object. “Man One on Minnock, Reckless Endangerment on Allen, the same on both you and Roarke, adding Assault on a police officer, and the stack of Cyber Crimes, the unregistered equipment, false statements, and so on. We wrap him up, Dallas, make the deal, avoid the trial that could drag on for months—and sensationalize the technology and the crimes in the media. He’ll do a solid fifty or more in a cage. A cage, due to the cyber-charges, without access to the e-toys he knows and loves. It’s harsh, and it’s apt.”
“I want Attempted Murder on Cill and Roarke. I want him charged, goddamn it.” She pulled herself back, pulled it in. “I’m going in on Murder One on Bart Minnock. If you deal it down later, I’ll accept that, but I want him charged, and I want to start the deal at the high mark.”
Reo studied Eve’s face. Whatever she saw there had her easing back. “Let’s see what happens in Interview, and go from there.”
“Then let’s get started.”
Whitney pulled her aside. “He can sweat until morning. Until you’ve had a little more recovery time.”
“I’m fine, sir.” Going now, she thought, and going hot. “He’s already had a couple hours to regroup. I don’t want to give him any more.”
“Your choice. Dallas? Don’t make it personal.”
“No, sir.”
But it was. It was, she thought as she walked over to Roarke.
He wore a shirt copped from Baxter’s locker, and under it, she knew his wound was still fresh, still raw. His color was back, his eyes clear. Not pale, so pale, as he’d been when his blood had seeped through her fingers.
“I know you want to see this through,” she began. “I get it. But I’ll arrange for you to view the record. You need to go home, take those damn drugs you refused, and let Summerset hover over you.”
“I will if you will.”
“Roarke.”
“Eve. We understand each other, don’t we? Let’s finish this.”
“There’s going to be a chair in Observation. Use it.”
She walked away, found Mira. “I’m going to ask you for a favor. I need you to keep your eye on Roarke. If he looks like he needs it, jab him with a damn pressure syringe full of tranqs. I’ll take the rap.”
“Don’t worry.” Mira slipped her arm around Eve’s waist, just for a moment. “We’ll have him outnumbered.”
She nodded, then ordered herself to shake it off. Just shake it off and do the job. “Peabody.” She paused, pushed a hand through her hair. “You’re sympathetic, even a little impressed. Not too soft, nobody would buy it. But you’re younger than he is, and he’ll read that as naive. If he’s done any digging, and he would have, he knows you’re cohabbed with an e-man.”
“Got it. Suggestion? I’d lose the jacket you got out of your locker. Go in bare-armed so he can see the hits you took. It’ll give him a little rush.”
“That’s good.” She tugged it off, setting her teeth when her arm twinged. She tossed the jacket to McNab. “Hang onto it.”
Then she nodded to Peabody and opened the door of Interview A.
He sat at the table, hands folded, head down. He lifted it as they entered, gave Eve a sorrowful look. “I don’t know what hap pened. I—”
“Quiet,” she snapped. “Record on. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, and Peabody, Detective Delia, entering Interview with Hoyt, Levar. Mr. Hoyt, have you been read your rights?”