Eve wasn't surprised to arrive on scene ahead of Peabody, but she was grateful. One look at the parlor, the blood smeared on the hearth, and the possessive and protective way Zeke kept his hand on Clarissa's shoulder had her stomach sinking.
Oh shit, Peabody, she thought. What a hell of a fix.
"Where's the body?"
"I got rid of it." Clarissa started to her feet on legs that were visibly shaking.
"Sit down, Clarissa." Zeke said it softly while easing her back into the chair. "She's in shock. She should have medical attention."
Shoving sympathy aside, and for the moment doing no more than filing the bruises on Clarissa's face away, she stepped forward. "Got rid of it?"
"Yes." She drew a deep breath, locked her hands together. "After—after it…I sent Zeke out of the room, asked him to get me some water."
She glanced toward the glass still sitting untouched on an inlaid table, the water that had sloshed out of it ruining the finish. "When he was gone, I got one of the droids to carry—to carry it out, drive it away. I programmed the droid. I—I know how. I instructed it to throw the body in the river. Off the bridge and into the East River."
"She was upset," Zeke began. "She wasn't thinking. It all happened so fast and I—"
"Zeke, I need you to sit down. Over there." Eve indicated the sofa.
"She didn't do anything. I did. I pushed him. I didn't mean…he was hurting her."
"Sit down, Zeke. Roarke, would you take Mrs. Branson in another room? She should lie down for a few minutes."
"Of course. Come on, Clarissa."
"It wasn't his fault." She began to weep again. "It was my fault. He was just trying to help me."
"It's all right," Roarke murmured. "Eve will take care of it. Come with me now." He sent his wife a long, silent look as he led Clarissa away.
"We're not on record yet, Zeke. No," she continued with a quick shake of her head. "Don't say anything until you listen to me. I have to know everything, every detail, every step. I don't want you to even think about leaving anything out."
"I killed him, Dallas."
"I said shut up." Damn it, why didn't people listen? "I'm going to read you your rights, then we're going to talk. You can call for a lawyer, but I'm telling you now—as your sister's friend—not to do that, not yet. You give it to me straight, then we go in and do a formal interview. That's when you lawyer up. I'm going on record here in a minute, and when I do, you keep looking me dead in the eye. You got that? You don't evade, you don't hesitate. I'm seeing self-defense here, I'm seeing an accident, but when Clarissa ditched the body, she put both of you in jeopardy."
"She only—"
"Quiet, goddamn it." Frustrated, she dragged her hands through her hair. "There are ways to get around that. That's what the lawyer's going to be for. And the psych tests I'm going to order. But right now, on record, you're going to tell me everything, leaving nothing out. Don't think by smoking any details you're protecting Clarissa. You won't. It'll only make it worse."
"I'll tell you what happened. All of it. But do you have to take her in? She's afraid of the police. She's so fragile. He hurt her. If you could just take me."
She moved forward, sat on the edge of the coffee table to face him. Jesus, she thought. Sweet Jesus, he was little more than a boy. "Do you trust your sister, Zeke?"
"Yes."
"And she trusts me." Eve heard the commotion in the foyer and rose. "That'll be her now. Are you going to be able to hold it together?"
He nodded, got to his feet as Peabody burst in. "Zeke. God, Zeke, are you all right?" She nearly leaped into his arms, then yanked back to run her hands over him, face, shoulders, chest. "Are you hurt?"
"No. Dee." He pressed his brow to hers. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"It's all right, it's okay. We'll take care of everything. We'll take care of it all. We need to call a lawyer."
"No. Not yet."
Peabody whirled to Eve, eyes damp and terrified. "He needs representation. Jesus, Dallas, he's not going in a cage, he's not going into holding."
"Suck it in, Peabody," Eve snapped. "That's an order." The tears were already rolling, causing Eve to feel a slick sense of panic. Oh God, oh God, don't fall apart on me. Don't do it. "That's an order, Officer. Sit down."