“I know the dad look, right? He’s pissed, and a little scared.”
“Murder will do that. Tag Reo, tell her—”
“Already did. She’s talking to her boss now. She’ll tag you back.”
“Okay. I’ll get back to you.”
She ran through it in her head as she drove. She needed more on Whitt, needed to build a solid case. Cosner could be key. The right pressure, she mused, he’d crack. Loyalty only went so far, and if they could convince the father they had enough to tie his son up in a murder investigation, convince him they believed Whitt had called the shots …
He’d make a deal to keep his kid on-planet. Maybe cut it to twenty per count, served concurrently. She could live with that—if it helped put Whitt away for life.
Her ’link signaled again as she drove through her home gates. “Dallas.”
“Reo here. I just finished meeting with the boss. There’s a lot of it depends here, Dallas.”
“Whitt and Cosner, together, killed two people. No it depends about it.”
“You say it, I believe it.” Eve watched Reo with her stylishly curly blond mop and crisp white shirt program coffee from her office AC. “Proving it’s different.”
“He’ll break, Reo. Cosner will break. He’s weak, he’s lazy, he’s an addict. His family’s propping him up. Eventually that breaks, too.”
“His family’s firm isn’t peanuts. They’re top-of-the-line, and we don’t have enough to charge him.”
“We have enough to sweat him.”
“Maybe, but even if we loosen him up with enough sweat, there’s no way his father or whatever criminal attorneys they bring in will let him talk without a deal.”
Eve didn’t mention she’d already worked out a deal in her head. “For fuck’s sake, Reo.” She parked, slammed out of the car for show. “We don’t even have him in the box and you’re talking deal.”
“I’m talking reality,” Reo snapped back. “First one to flip gets the prize. It’s a classic for a reason. You believe Whitt’s the one running things, so figure out how much you want him.”
“I want them both.” Eve shoved open the front door.
“So let’s try to get them both. We start offering Cosner on-planet.”
Summerset’s eyebrows rose as Eve stormed down the foyer to the stairs.
“Maybe we should offer him some nice spa treatments while we’re at it, some freaking canapés.”
As she stomped up the steps, still bitching, Summerset smiled at her back. Then looked down at the cat. “The lieutenant’s in a much better frame of mind this evening.”
As if in agreement, Galahad trotted upstairs after her.
Satisfied Reo’s outline of a potential deal aligned with hers, Eve headed to the bedroom. She wanted out of the suit.
From his perch on the bed, Galahad watched her dig out a sweatshirt—black—trousers—black—ancient high-tops—black.
“It’s, what, monochromatic, right?”
She sat on the side of the bed a moment to give the cat a rub. “It’s turning, pal, I can feel it turning. We just have to lock it down before he kills somebody else. The snotty, smug son of a bitch.”
After giving Galahad one last pat, she rose, started for the office. The cat beat her there, whizzed through the door, and leaped on her sleep chair.
And Roarke stepped out of his adjoining office.
“Hey. You’re here.”
“I am.” He walked to her, kissed her. “As are you. I thought as much when I heard the thunder of cat feet.”