Джеймс Паттерсон - NYPD Red 6

“We got her.”

Minutes later, Kylie and I were in Benny’s office. “Most of the cameras are pointed at the stables,” he said. “But this one is mounted above the stalls, and it picks up a nice wide swath of the park. I cued it up at a minute before we see them just so you can get the feel of things.”

He rolled the footage. It hardly seemed like we were watching a crime surveillance video. The day was sunny, the resolution was excellent, and the park was lush and green.

And then they appeared. Erin was in what McMaster had jokingly called the standard celebrity disguise. It was about as effective as putting a Groucho Marx mustache on George Clooney. She was entirely recognizable.

Next to her, as big as life, was her stalker, the man three judges had ordered to stay away from her—Bobby Dodd. Not only were he and Erin in the same frame, but they were talking, laughing, and holding hands.

Benny froze the image, and I could imagine it splashed across every front page around the world.

“She’s playing him,” Kylie said, practically yelling at the screen.

Diaz smiled, proud of his contribution.

“Good police work, Benny,” I said. “But it doesn’t prove a thing.”

The smile faded fast. “Why not? It’s two weeks before the kidnapping, and I just showed you a picture of the two of them together.”

“And I can show you pictures of Trump and Hillary together,” I said.

“But not holding hands and frolicking in the park,” Kylie said.

Diaz laughed out loud. “So you agree with me,” he said to Kylie.

“No. Unfortunately, I have to agree with Zach. It sure as hell looks like she’s prepping him, plotting out the kidnapping and everything else that came down the pike, but any first-year law student could get up in front of a jury and fill their heads with reasonable doubt.”

Diaz looked at the image on the screen and then turned back at Kylie. “I don’t know,” he said. “It looks pretty damning to me.”

Kylie cleared her throat. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” she said, her eyes drilling into Diaz. “Erin Easton was an international media star who was about to marry an incredibly successful, powerful, and wealthy man. Why would she suddenly throw that all away to team up with a lowlife who had preyed on her for more than a decade?”

“The ransom money?” Diaz said meekly.

“Twenty-five million?” Kylie said. “Chump change. Jamie was heir to half a billion.”

Benny’s head nodded as he processed what she was saying.

“I sense reasonable doubt creeping in,” Kylie said.

“Look, I’m a computer cop. I watched the video. It hasn’t been doctored, and my takeaway is that Erin is hiring Bobby to kidnap her. But you make a pretty good lawyer. I’m starting to think I could be wrong.”

“You’re half wrong. She wasn’t hiring him. She was seducing him. Telling him all the things he wanted to hear, spinning the same pipe dreams he’d written about for years. I think somewhere along the way Erin must have found out that Jamie wasn’t as rich as she’d thought. His mother had all the money, and the only way Erin would ever see a nickel of it would be over Veronica’s dead body.

“Erin knew Jamie wouldn’t be able to come up with the ransom money. She also knew that Veronica wouldn’t cough up a cent. It all played out just as she’d scripted it, and by then Bobby was in so deep, the only way he could get enough money to keep the woman he loved was to kill the woman she hated. And as soon as he did that, Erin killed him.”

Benny’s mouth hung open. He looked at me. “Where are you on all this?”

“She’s right. Chief Doyle always suspected Bobby had an accomplice. It just didn’t occur to us that it could be Erin. The problem is, we still don’t have what we need to prove anything.”

“So how do you stop her from getting away with it?”

“Give us a minute,” Kylie said. “We just cracked the code. Zach and I haven’t come up with a game plan yet.”

“Whatever we do,” I said, “we’ve got to do it fast.”

“Why’s that?” Benny said.

“Because Jamie Gibbs just inherited half a billion dollars. If anything should happen to him, that money goes to Erin. Even if Jamie leaves some of it to his unborn child, for the next eighteen years, Erin Easton will call the shots on how every penny of Veronica’s fortune is spent.”

CHAPTER 78

INCREDIBLE,” CAPTAIN CATES said after we’d caught her up. “The woman’s gone from victim to hero to suspect in less than a week.”

“That’s show business,” Kylie said. “One minute you’re riding high, the next minute you’re in the back of a patrol car on your way to Central Booking.”

“From your lips,” Cates said, “but right now you don’t have enough to charge her.”

“Not yet. But she’s coming in at noon. We’ll give her a shovel and hope she buries herself.”

“I’ll be watching on the monitor,” Cates said. “With my finger hovering over the chief of Ds’ direct line.”

Erin’s version of noon turned out to be three forty-five.

“You look fantastic,” Kylie said, gushing like a fangirl and giving her a big hug. Next came the outpouring of love and concern: How are you? How is the baby? How are you sleeping? It must be so comforting to have a strong man like Jamie at your side. And how is he doing? His mother’s death was such a blow. It’s so good that you can be there for each other .

My turn next: So sorry to drag you in after all you’ve been through. One final interview so we can tie it up in a bow for our boss. We all want to put it behind us .

Erin responded as if she were doing a late-night talk-show interview. She opened up immediately, thrilled to fill us in on her favorite subject—herself.

“So tell us when you first met Bobby Dodd,” Kylie said, easing into the interview.

We’d already heard every detail from McMaster, but we listened intently as Erin recounted a time when she truly was a victim.

“Prior to your wedding day,” I said, “when was the last time you’d seen or heard from Dodd?”

“Oh God, it must have been at least a year—maybe more,” she lied. “I was finally starting to think he was gone for good.”

“Prior to June ninth, did he ever hurt you?”

“No.”

“Touch you?”

“No. He couldn’t get close. I always had my security people.”

“Were you ever alone with him?”

“Never.”

“Did he ever manage to get past security and talk to you directly?”

“Not until he kidnapped me.”

“We were told he broke into your house in Aspen,” I said.

“And my apartment in New York. And the villa in Tuscany, twice. Four separate times, but I was never at home.”

“Why do you think he was so interested in seeing where you live?” I asked.

“He was obsessed. He was a voyeur.”

“Any other reason?”

“The man was batshit-crazy, Detective. I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

“This is going to sound strange,” I said, “but I have to ask—did you and Bobby Dodd ever go house-hunting in the Berkshires?”

“House-hunt—no! How could you people even come up with such a ridiculous idea?”

“Erin,” I said, “we didn’t come up with it. We read about it in Bobby’s diary.”

Her eyes screamed in panic: What diary? But she managed to keep her voice under control. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand. What diary are you talking about?”

“Let me explain,” Kylie said. “You’re right about Bobby being obsessed with you. In fact, he was so obsessed that he kept a detailed diary of your life together.”