“I was never there. You’re the liar.”
“Two hundred and twenty-three hairs and a thumbprint,” Eve said. “Oh, and you haven’t seen Loco for years, didn’t know he was recently deceased? Murder by stabbing. Our sweepers are really good, too.”
Eve took a bagged steak knife out of the evidence box. “And yet this knife, found in your kitchen drawer, has traces of blood still on it. People think they clean it all over, but almost never do. Our ME—he’s a genius, as your attorney knows, I’m sure—matches this knife with the stab wounds on Lucas Sanchez’s body.”
“Marsh must have used it. Taken it, used it, put it back.”
“Not a balanced relationship,” Peabody repeated with a sad shake of her head. “Poor old Marsh.”
“Yeah, poor old Marsh,” Eve agreed. “You should have walked a few more blocks before catching the cab when you left Cosner’s apartment, Steve. You only gave it a block, then took said cab to your cousin’s garage. You left fingerprints on the keypad, on the door, on the scooter. We actually check these things.”
“You think you’re so smart.”
“Yeah. I think you’re not as smart as you think—but a hell of a lot smarter than your dead school pal.”
She slapped a hand on the table mostly for the satisfaction of seeing him jolt. “You were the brains behind this. He went along with you, the way he always did. Like when you beat Miguel Rodriges, put him in the hospital.”
“Who?”
“I don’t doubt you don’t remember him. He remembers you, and your pal documented the beating—and the consideration of just killing the kid—in this book.”
She took it out of the box. “You missed this when you went through Cosner’s place.”
“That’s not proof of anything.”
“It starts adding up, as your attorney knows.”
“Be quiet, Stephen. Put your cards on the table, Lieutenant.”
“It goes back to Gold Academy, to Grange. Your father had a sexual relationship with her. It didn’t bother you she had sex with some of the teachers, some of the other fathers. But yours?”
She took a photo of Whitt’s father and Grange out of the box. “You didn’t send this one to Greenwald because you didn’t, at least then, want your father ID’d. But, like the one you sent, you took this—kept it in your hidey-hole. But I’m guessing Cosner took this one.”
And pulled out another, one of Lotte Grange with Stephen Whitt.
“My client was a minor, and this woman an adult, and the headmistress of his school.”
“Agreed, and that will be addressed, take my word. You wanted to punish her for doing your father, your own father, while she was doing you, didn’t you, Steve? You made sure you got one of Grange with your father’s face turned away, obscured.”
Pausing, she pulled a copy of what she described out of the evidence box. “You sent it to Grange’s husband. The divorces, your parents, Grange, that was just fine. But you didn’t expect Grange to leave the school. She was your shield, plus sex. Seriously teacher’s pet, right?”
“As a minor—”
Eve cut Kobast off with a vicious look that jolted him as much as her slap on the table had Whitt. “This is where it started.” She jabbed a finger on the photo of Grange with Whitt—a teenager, a student.
“Right here. But it didn’t end until today. Grange cut her losses, took another position in another city. Then the next thing you know, Rufty’s in there laying down new rules. That son of a bitch. You’re getting pulled out, but at least you’ll still be with Grange, still have that shield, probably the sex. But you lose the girl.”
Eve rose, walked around the table. “You didn’t love the girl, you’re not capable of it. But she belonged to you, she did what you said, what you wanted. She was nearly beautiful and obliging enough to be worthy of you. And all of a sudden, she moves on. She just let you go. You can blame her parents at first, but Jesus, she doesn’t even try.”
She leaned down, close to his ear, whispered, “That stupid, spineless cunt.”
Eve watched his hands fist as she eased back.
“Then what does she do? She gets tight with the mother who separated you, she goes off and starts a business. Then, the final blow.” Eve reached into the box, took out the bagged clippings from the evidence box. “She gets engaged, and not to just anyone, but to someone important, to the son of someone really important. She had no right.”
Eve rapped a fist on the table, whipped out the words. “Isn’t that how you saw it? Nobody walks away from you like that. And whose fault was it?”
She took the printout of the kill list, tossed it on the table. “Theirs. It’s just not as simple as hitting delete, Steve. You didn’t want to kill them, not the ones responsible. You wanted them to suffer, to lose, to never forget. The academy had been your golden goose, and they killed it. So you killed Rufty’s husband, Duran’s wife. You killed Sanchez when you didn’t need him anymore, and you killed your partner in this, your best friend, so you could shovel all the blame on him and walk away.