“Okay. Let’s move on to Ledo.”
“God! That place was a sty. I don’t understand how people live like that. You and I see a lot of that kind of thing in the work, but I never get used to it. I like how they call us sweepers. It makes me think of cleaning things up. That’s what we do, you and me. We make things cleaner.”
“Tell me how you cleaned Ledo up.”
It took three long hours of listening. Eve asked questions, made comments, occasionally guided the topic back, but for the most part, just listened.
“All right, Lottie, we’ve got what we need. You’re going to be charged with murder in the first, two counts. You have confessed to those crimes on record, waived your right to an attorney.”
“Aren’t we going to talk some more?”
“We’re done now.”
“But you’ll come back.”
Eve rose. No point in saying all the angry things that ran through her head. No point. “They’re going to take you down to Booking again, Lottie. And tomorrow Dr. Mira will talk to you.”
“You like her, Dr. Mira.”
Eve froze. “Yeah. Was she on your list, Lottie?”
“Other people get in the way of a real friendship. You can’t see me when other people are in the way.”
Eve planted her hands on the table, leaned over. “It’s not other people, Lottie. It’s not Mira or Mavis or Nadine or Peabody or any of them. That’s not why I don’t see what you want me to see.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Here’s simple. I see you, Lottie. I see you just fine. And I don’t like you. Dallas, leaving interview. Record off.”
She walked out on Lottie’s wailing scream. She just leaned against the door a minute, pinched her nose to try to relieve pressure.
“I’m taking her to Booking.” Peabody strode up on her silly boots, McNab stride for stride with her in his.
“We are.”
“We are.”
“Okay. Then get out. Go be insane in Times Square.”
“That’s affirmative.”
She’d write it up, Eve thought, and get the hell out herself. And she found Dawson on the bench outside Homicide.
“I couldn’t watch any more of it. Couldn’t do it. But I couldn’t leave until I said . . . Jesus, Dallas, I’m sorry.”
“It’s not on you, Dawson.”
“She’s one of mine. I worked with her. And I . . . didn’t see her.”
“Nobody could see her the way she wanted. Even she can’t. Don’t carry this one. Leave it to Mira, and probably a platoon of shrinks. Crazies out there, Dawson, all over the damn place.”
“Came into my house.”
Eve glanced toward the bullpen. “Mine, too. Sweep it out.”
He let out a breath, half a laugh, nodded. “Yeah. I’m going home. My wife’s going to kick my ass for being late.”
“Bet she won’t.”