"And the answer was someone in this department. I've just run a personnel scan. A. A. most closely fits the physical description."
"You'd make a halfway decent cop."
"I see no reason to insult me. I'd just accessed A. A.'s home address when the word came through we had cops sniffing. I assume our noses had caught the same scent."
"What's the address? I want some uniforms to pick him up."
"Saint Patrick's Cathedral. I doubt you'll find him nibbling his lunch there."
"That's sloppy of your personnel department, Roarke."
His smile was not amused. "Believe me, they'll be so informed. What have you got?"
"He's Liam Calhoun, the son. And I've got his queen, Roarke. I've got his mama." She filled him in, watching as his eyes grew darker, colder. "Feeney and McNab are working on the equipment we found in Audrey's apartment. And they'll analyze the bugs we took from Summerset's quarters. Where is he now? Summerset."
"Home. Bail was set and paid." His jaw set. "They put a bracelet on him."
"The charges will be dropped—and it'll come off. I'll take care of it as soon as I get to Central. Whitney's meeting me to observe the interview with the mother."
"I believe you'll find we manufacture the bugs here, and we're testing a new shield coat that protects them from detection from currently marketed scanners. I've been bankrolling his game all along. Wonderfully ironic."
"We've got him pinned, Roarke. Even if he's been tipped somehow and he's running, we'll have him. We've got his mother. Every indication is he can't and won't function without her. He'll stay close. I'll take the data from here back to Central and key it in under my name and Feeney's only. You have a right to that protection under the law." She blew out a breath. "I'm going straight into Interview, and odds are it's going to be a long haul. I'll be home late."
"Obviously I have quite a bit of work to do here. I'll probably be later. I spoke to the head of Pat Murray's medical team. He's regained consciousness. At this point he isn't able to speak or move his legs, but they believe with proper treatment, he'll make a full recovery."
She knew Roarke would be paying for that proper treatment, and touched his arm briefly. "I've got two uniforms on his room. I'll get over there myself tomorrow."
"We'll go." He spotted Nibb bringing a box of disc files. "Good hunting, Lieutenant."
• • •
In hour five of the interview with Audrey, Eve switched from coffee to water. The simulated caffeine the station house offered its weary cops tended to eat stomach lining on continued use.
Audrey insisted on tea by the gallon, and though she sipped it hour after hour with delicacy, her polish was wearing thin. Her hair was losing its shape and starting to straggle. It was damp and sticky at the temples from sweat. Cosmetics were fading, leaving her skin overly pale, her mouth thin and hard without the softening color. The whites of her eyes were beginning to streak with red.
"Why don't I encapsulate for this session? When your husband was killed—"
"Was murdered," Audrey interrupted. "Murdered in cold blood by that street-rat bastard Roarke, murdered over a little harlot so that I lived a widow and my son lived without a father all his life."
"So you wanted your son to believe. You fed him that, day after day, year after year, twisting his mind, darkening his heart. He was to be your tool for vengeance."
"I told him nothing but God's truth from the day he was born. I was to be a nun, to go through my life without knowing a man. But Liam Calhoun was sent to me. An angel called me to him, and so I laid with him and conceived a son."
"An angel," Eve repeated and leaned back.
"A bright light," she said her eyes gleaming. "A golden light. So I married the man who was only an instrument to create the boy. Then he was murdered, his life taken, and I understood the purpose of his son. He wasn't born to die for sins, but to avenge them."
"You taught him that. That his purpose in life was to kill."
"To take what had been taken. To balance the scales. He was a sickly boy. He suffered to purify himself for his mission. I dedicated my life to him, to teaching him." Her lips curved. "And I taught him well. You'll never find him. He's too smart. A fine mind has my boy. A genius, he is. And a soul as white as new snow. We are," she said with a chilling smile, "beyond you."
"Your son's a killer, a sociopath with a god-complex. And you made sure he got a good education, in the area you'd decided would be most useful."
"His mind was his sword."
And what of his soul? Eve wondered. If there were such things, what had she done to his soul? "You took nearly fifteen years to train him, to mold him, before you set him loose. You're a clever woman yourself, Mary Pat."
"Audrey, my name is Audrey now. It says so on all my records."