J Robb - Imitation in Death

He whirled, with the goggles blinding him now. The bat was in his hand, and he swung out with it, toward the sound of her voice even as he ripped the goggles away.

“Police. Drop the weapon! Drop your weapon and freeze or I will drop you.”

His eyes were huge, blinking madly. But she saw the instant he recognized her and understood. She saw all his plans, his victories, drain out of his head. “Filthy cunt.”

“Come on then.” She lowered her weapon, then stabbed a warning finger toward the doorway when Roarke shoved in with Feeney behind him. “Don’t do it,” she snapped at them.

Renquist howled, threw the bat at her, then leaped.

She shifted, let the metal glance off her shoulder. Because it was more satisfying than a stun, she used her body, tucking to drive that same shoulder into his gut, her knee to his groin. And when he started to fold, her fist found its way to the underside of his jaw.

“That last one was for Marlene Cox,” Eve muttered.

She planted her foot on the small of his back as she pulled out her restraints. “Hands behind you, you bucket of puke.”

“I’ll kill you. I’ll kill all of you.” Blood trickled out of his mouth as he struggled. His eyes went wide and wild when Eve yanked the wig away.

“Keep your hands off me, you revolting bitch. Do you know who I am?”

“Yeah, I know just who you are.” She flipped him over because she wanted him to see her. She wanted him to look at her face. The hate was there, the sort she’d seen before. The kind of bone-deep loathing she’d seen in the eyes of her own mother.

But seeing it now brought her only satisfaction.

“Do you know who I am, Niles? I’m the woman, the revolting bitch, the filthy cunt who’s kicked your sorry ass. I’m the one who’s going to lock the cage on you.”

“You’ll never put me away.” Tears began to shimmer in his eyes. “You won’t lock me in the dark again.”

“You’re already gone. And when Breen writes about this one, he’ll make careful note that it was a woman who beat you.”

He began to wail and to weep. She would’ve said like a woman, but it would’ve been an insult to her entire sex.

“Read him his rights,” she told Peabody, who’d emerged from the bed in full uniform. “Have him transported to Central and booked. You know the drill.”

“Yes, sir. Do you wish to accompany the prisoner?”

“I’ll settle things here and follow you in. I think you should be able to handle him, Detective.”

“I think a ten-year-old boy could handle him in this shape, sir.” She shook her head as Renquist continued to sob and drum his feet like a child in the throes of a tantrum. Then her head snapped up. “What? What did you say?”

“Do I have to repeat a standard order for prisoner procedure?”

“No. No, sir. Did you… did you say ‘detective’?”

“Something wrong with your ears? Oh, by the way, congratulations. Suspect is contained and in custody,” she said into her communicator as she walked from the room. She paused only long enough to wink at Roarke. “All units, stand down. Nice job.”

“Go ahead,” Feeney said to Peabody as she stood shell-shocked with McNab’s kissing noises and applause ringing in her earpiece. “I’ve got this bag of shit.”

With a little whoop, Peabody leaped over Renquist. “Dallas! Are you sure? Really, really sure? The results aren’t posted until tomorrow.”

“Why aren’t you following my direct order re the prisoner?”

“Please.”

“Jesus, what a baby.” But it took every ounce of will to hold back the grin. “I’ve got some pull. I used it. Results will be posted at oh eight hundred. You placed twenty-sixth, which isn’t shabby. They’re taking a full hundred, so you’re in. You could’ve done better on the sims.”

“I knew it.”

“But you did good. All in all you did good. The standard ceremony will be at noon, day after tomorrow. You will not cry during the cleanup of an operation,” she said when Peabody’s eyes teared up.

“I won’t. Okay.” Peabody threw open her arms, lurched forward.

Eve backpedaled. “No kissing! Mother of God. You get a handshake. A handshake.” She stuck out her hand in defense. “That’s it.”

“Yes, sir. Yes, sir.” She took Eve’s hand, pumped it. “Oh screw it,” she said, and wrapped her arms tightly enough around Eve to crack ribs.

“Get off me, you maniac.” But now it was touch-and-go whether she could hold back the laugh. “Go jump McNab. I’ll transport the damn prisoner.”

“Thanks. Oh man, oh boy, thanks!” She started to run for the door when it flew open. McNab caught her-and Eve had to give him credit for keeping his feet-in mid-air.

Rolling her eyes for form, she walked back into the bedroom.

“I’ll load him up,” Feeney told her. “Let the girl have time to do her victory dance.”

“I’ll be right behind you.”

“You’ll be sorry.” Renquist’s eyes were still streaming, but the fury was in them again, lighting the tears. “Very sorry.”

She stepped up, into his face, let the silence hang until she saw fear eat away at the anger. “I knew it was you, the first time I saw you. I saw what you were. Do you know what you are, Niles? Pitiful and weak, a coward who hid behind other cowards because he didn’t even have the balls to be himself when he killed innocents. Do you know why I ordered my detective to take you in? Because you’re not worth another minute of my time. You’re over.”

She turned away when he began to weep again. “Give me a lift, Sailor,” she said to Roarke.

“It would be my pleasure.” He took her hand when they reached the door, and tightened his grip when she hissed and tried to shake him off.

“Too late to worry about such things now. You winked at me during an operation.”

“I certainly did nothing of the kind.” She folded her lips, primly. “Maybe I had something in my eye.”

“Let’s have a look.” He backed her up against the wall of the hallway, and laughed when she swore at him. “No, I don’t see a thing, except those big, gorgeous cop’s eyes.” He kissed her between them. “Peabody’s not the only one who did good today.”

“I did the job. That’s good enough for me.”

– -«»--«»--«»--

Two days later, she read Mira’s preliminary psych report on Niles Renquist. Then she leaned back, stared at the ceiling. It was an interesting ploy, she mused. If his defense team was good enough, he might just pull it off.

She looked to the vase of flowers on her desk-sent that morning by Marlene Cox, via her mother. Instead of embarrassing her as they might have done, they pleased her.

Whatever the ploy, justice would be served. Niles Renquist would never see freedom again. And she had a decent shot at nailing his wife as accessory after the fact.

At least the PA had agreed to press for it, and that would have to be enough.

If she succeeded there, she was orphaning a young girl, deliberately seeing to it that a five-year-old child was without mother or father. Rising, she walked to the window. But some children were better off, weren’t they, without a certain type of parent?

How the hell did she know. She dragged a hand through her hair, scrubbed them both over her face. She could only do the job and hope when the dust settled, it was right.

It felt right.

She heard her knob turn, then the knock. She’d locked it, pointedly, and now checked the time. Rolling her shoulders, she picked up her cap, set it in place.

When she opened the door she saw the rare jolt of shock on Roarke’s face, then the interest, then the gleam that had color rising up on her neck.

“What are you staring at?”