Connections in Death (In Death 48)

“I’ll be in and out of Observation,” Mira told her. “I’ll help when and where I can. I’ve cleared as much of my schedule as possible.”

“Appreciate it.”

“Good luck.”

With Peabody, Eve stepped into Interview. “Record on. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, Peabody, Detective Delia, entering Interview with Washington, Denby, on the matter of case files…” She paused, consulting her file, as if she needed to, then ran them through for the record.

“Y’all cops look beat-up.” He grinned when he said it.

He had a hulking build, not as big as Aimes, but the sort who spent a lot of his time bulking up because he thought it made him look tough.

It didn’t.

Acne scars sprinkled over his dark skin. His short dreads had fading red tips, and his jaw carried an impressive bruise from Roarke’s fist.

His data set his age at eighteen. He looked younger—until you saw the mean in his eyes. That read old and bitter.

“You, too, Denby,” Eve said as she sat.

“This here’s from police brutality. I be suing first chance.”

“Is that so? Strange, the record very clearly shows you incurred that injury while attempting to jack a police vehicle—while armed. That’s one of the charges pending against you.”

“Bullshit charge.”

Below the table, his fingers snapped. Eve could hear the snap, snap, snap.

“I’m trying to warn the van people shit’s going down, and dude sucker punched me, that’s what.”

“So when you were shouting—on the record—” Once again she consulted her file. “‘Get the fuck out the van or I kill you motherfuckers,’ you were warning them? Because it sounds, clearly, like a threat to do bodily harm.”

“That weren’t me. Somebody else.”

“It was confusing out there,” Peabody began.

“Damn right. Shit’s going down, and I’m just trying to get clear and warn people. I’m just walking down the street, and shit’s going down.”

“You were inside the building,” Eve said flatly. “That’s also on record. Inside, Washington, you lying sack, and when the shit went down, you ran outside like a coward.”

“I ain’t no coward, bitch.” Now his hands jumped to the table in fists, and those old, bitter eyes flamed hot. “You take these cuffs off me, and we’ll see who’s the coward.”

“Mr. Washington.” In that reasonable tone, Peabody soothed. “We’re trying to straighten out what did happen. It’s best if you try to stay calm.”

Shifting, Washington tried making his case directly to Peabody. “I run in to see what shit’s going down, then I ran on out to warn people. That’s it.”

“You were attempting to keep bystanders out of danger.”

“Yeah, like that.” He shifted back to Eve. “Nobody calls the Snapper a coward. I don’t run from nothing and nobody.”

“Are you a member of the urban gang known as the Bangers?” Eve asked.

“Shit, yeah, and Bangers don’t take no shit from anybody, don’t take no shit from cops, sure don’t take it from beat-up girl cops.”

“As a member of said urban gang, have you engaged in any criminal activity?”

“We just living, that’s all.”

“Does ‘just living’ include possessing, distributing, selling illegal substances?”