“You waited for Kellie to come out of 30 Rock.”
“She was running a little behind, didn’t even see me until I bumped into her.”
“You went for her leg instead of her arm.”
“She had a jacket on, plus the thigh would bleed out faster. I didn’t want her to suffer. I’m not cruel.”
“You killed Mars to protect Annie. You killed Kellie to protect yourself.”
“It protected Annie, too—protecting myself protected Annie. It should have ended it. You shouldn’t be here.”
“I am here, Bill. I’m here after standing over a young woman who did you no harm. Who, from what I know at this point, harmed no one. I stood over her lifeless body where she collapsed and bled to death on the sidewalk, on a bitter winter night. Because you decided to use her as cover for the murder of another woman. Because you decided to end her life rather than risk exposure. You’re exposed anyway, and Kellie Lowry is still dead by your hand.”
“What about Annie? What
about what she suffered? You heartless bitch! What about Annie?”
“Do you think she’ll thank you for this? I’ve had exactly two conversations with her, and I know—I know—it’s not thanks you’ll get from her. It’s disgust, and it’s grief, and she’ll suffer more now because you used her as an excuse to kill.”
“You don’t know her. You don’t understand her. I protected her!”
“You’re pathetic.” Eve rose. “William Hyatt, you’ve confessed, on the record, to the premeditated murders of Larinda Mars and Kellie Lowry. You’re under arrest for two counts of first degree murder, and the lesser charges already on record. Other charges may be added. Take him in, out of my sight. Book the son of a bitch.”
“I defended Annie!” He struggled when the uniforms flanked him, hauled him out of the chair. “I defended her. I’m a hero! I want a lawyer.”
“Yeah, yeah. Let him get his lawyer. Let’s see how his lawyer can spin what he’s just blathered onto the record. Get him the hell out.”
She stood a moment, blocking out his shouts as the uniforms dragged him away. And studied the scalpel. Such a small thing, she thought. Created to save lives. Some would always twist the good into the ugly.
She walked out, saw Peabody conducting the search of the living area.
“I didn’t want to interrupt,” Peabody said. “I could hear. I knew you had him.”
“Yeah. He’ll be the PA’s problem now. Maybe Mira’s.” Eve took an evidence bag out of the field kit for the murder weapon. “Roarke?”
“Small second bedroom converted to a home office. He’s in there—which is also a little shrine to Annie Knight, with photos of her, posters, photos of the two of them. It looks normal until you know. And when you know, it’s a little sick. Anyway, Roarke’s got it all.”
“Figured he would. Go home, Peabody. Go to Mexico.”
“McNab texted he packed for me, which is a little scary, but what the hell. He’s going to meet me at the transport when I text him back. I’m stupid with grateful, Dallas. He really needs this break.”
“Then go give it to him.”
“So going.” She grabbed her coat, hat, scarf. Then, moving fast, rushed Eve, hugged hard, then rushed out. “Adios, amiga!”
“Yeah, yeah. Hasta la whatever the hell.”
She walked to the office, where Roarke sat at an orderly desk contentedly working on Hyatt’s d and c. “Put it away,” Roarke said.
“What away?”
“The idea that if you’d gotten to him sooner, or hadn’t pushed at him in a certain way, Kellie Lowry would be alive. It’s as much a fallacy—and as egotistic, really—as blaming yourself Mars died while you were having a drink with a colleague.”
“I’m working on it because I know better. And I don’t like the ego crack.”
“Truth is often harsh. It’s all here,” he continued. “His searches for the method, how long, on average, a human being will bleed to death, how the body shuts down and so on, from those specific wounds. He ordered the scalpel online from a medical supply house about two months ago.”
“Planning and practice time.” She came around to read the screen over his shoulder.