Mary Robb - Down the Rabbit Hole

“In custody. All three of them. You dealt with it, Lieutenant, impaired or not. That’s the cop in you.”

“What impaired me?”

“It’s quite a cocktail, according to the lab—as it’s the same, assuredly, as what Darlene Fitzwilliams inhaled. Fortunately, you and Peabody didn’t have more than a whiff or two.”

“Peabody.”

“She’s right here.”

Eve turned around at McNab’s voice, saw her partner curled up with her head on his lap, sleeping. “She’s okay?”

“They said she’d just sleep it off, and a single exposure like the two of you had wouldn’t have any lasting effects.” He stroked Peabody’s hair as he spoke. “But . . .”

“I contacted Louise—as you’d want her to know what happened,” Roarke continued. “She’s on her way into Central, as we are, and she’ll have a look at both of you.”

“I’m fine. I’m starving. I want . . .”

Roarke activated the AutoChef, which produced a large bag of soy chips.

“Oh yeah. Fucker drugged me,” she said with her mouth full of chips. “I hate that. He’s going to . . . Oh, Jesus Christ, there was a woman. In the chair.”

“Andrea Melton,” Roarke told her. “The MTs transported her to the hospital. She was heavily dosed, and likely routinely dosed. But they know what he used, and they’ll treat her.”

“I need to talk to her.”

“Tomorrow, at least, for that.”

“Not for Bright, or whatever his name is. That’s for tonight.”

“And good luck with it.” Roarke pulled into Central. “Want a hand with her, Ian?”

“No, I— Well, maybe.”

Together, they got Peabody out, on her feet, where she smiled cheerfully. “Hi! Did we get ’em?”

“Yeah.” Eve led the way to the elevator. “We got them.”

“Yay! I feel really wooshy.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Are those soy chips? Can I have some soy chips?”

Eve gave her the bag as they got into the elevator. “Don’t you have a headache?”

“No, I . . .” Peabody’s entire face winced. “Ow.”

“Here we are.” Gently, Roarke slipped the pill between her lips and offered her the bottle of water he’d had in his pocket.

“Okay, thanks. He’s so pretty,” she said to Eve.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Mine, too. Sooo pretty. But my head hurts and I’m starving. I’m not supposed to be harsh about my body image, so I’m eating these chips.”

“Take her up to the crib,” Eve advised. “Louise can take a look at her up there. If she’s clear, take her on home. Good job all around, McNab.”

“Thanks.”

Too tired for the glides, Eve rode all the way to Homicide, gave her partner a last look, and got off so McNab could continue to the crib.

“I need to put all this together, then take on the Hatter and his crazy crew. I don’t need Louise.”

“I have some lines.” He kept hold of her hand as they walked. “And one of them is you’ll get checked by a doctor before you finish this. If you argue I’d be forced to mention to your division that you giggled.”

“I did not. Shit. I did. I half remember. Fine, fine. But I want coffee, and lots of it. And that’s my line.”

“Agreed.”

She decided it was just as well she’d made the deal, as both Charles and Louise were waiting in her office.

“Let me look at you. Sit.”

“Coffee.”

Roarke nudged her into her chair and went to the AutoChef while Louise opened her medical bag. She took Eve’s wrist in her hand. “Pulse is strong and regular. Follow this light with your eyes only.”

Eve rolled them first, then obeyed.

“Peabody?” Charles asked.

“Coming around. McNab took her up to the crib. We’re fine.”

But Louise still took out a bunch of tools that made Eve scowl. She poked, prodded, scanned, measured. Then nodded.

“You are fine.” She took Eve’s hand again. “Thank you. Thank you for myself, for Charles, for Henry.”

“I haven’t finished it yet.”

“But you will. He’s staying with us for a while—Henry. We can go home and tell him you have the person responsible. It’ll help. I’ll let you get to it. I want to see Peabody.”

Before they left, Charles leaned over, kissed the top of her head. “Thanks for everything, Lieutenant Sugar.”

“It’s the job.”

She blew out a breath when they left. “I probably need you to fill in some blanks spots. When he turned on the light show, I must have been disoriented enough to turn into that mist, just enough. But I had my stunner on him. I remember that.”

“You did. Callendar dealt with the other man—the little one—and McNab pulled Peabody out of the mist. You’d knocked her back—I saw that as I came in—but she stumbled into it again. I found the controls, shut down the program, and . . . restrained the suspect. I’m assuming you took care of the woman who was laid out on the floor, sporting a hell of a bruise on her face.”

“Yeah, and yeah, okay, I got it. Nice assist, pal. I need IDs on all of them.”

“No ID on record for the Hatter. The woman is Willow Bateman—a few minor bumps prior to 2054 when she lived in New Orleans, then off the grid.”

“I’m guessing that’s when she hooked up, one way or the other, with . . . Okay, the Hatter works.”

“The other man is Maurice Xavier. A number of bumps there, and some time in a cage for aggravated assault. He, too, drops off the grid, three years ago.”

“Same deal, most likely. I’m going to have the head guy brought up. I think the other two were heavily under the influence, so I’ll wait on them. You’re going to hang, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely.”

“Figured. Let me set this up so I can box him in, then shut him down.”

“Looking forward to it,” Roarke said. “I’ll take myself up to EDD, find the money, and help you close the door.”

“Have fun with that.”

“No question of it.”

EPILOGUE

After the Hatter was brought in, Eve took a few minutes in Observation to study him. Tall and skinny, long face, long body, he sat in his prison jumpsuit with a cagey smile on his face and eyes of so pale a gray they seemed almost colorless.

Confident and cocky, she concluded, at least on the outside, but she noted the way his fingers tapped, tapped, tapped on the table as if he played a tune on invisible keys.

“He figures his ability gives him an edge,” she said to Peabody. “That he’ll read us, and use that to tangle things up.”

“Or put the you-know-what on us.”

“You can skip this,” she reminded her partner. “I told McNab to take you home.”

“No way I’m missing this part. Should I think of sex with McNab again?”

“Whatever works.” She pulled out her ’link, read the detailed message from Roarke. “The man is good,” she murmured. “Three hidden accounts, three different names—all leading back to the Hatter—who, according to Feeney’s search, is actually Louis Carroll Ravenwood, born Devonshire, England, in 1999—one sibling, Alice.”

“So he was who he was until the sister self-terminated.”

“Prior to, he and the sister—big surprise—worked the carny circuit.”

Eve looked back through the glass. “Add the money and the false IDs to the whole bunch of drugs Illegals found in his house, and he’s not going to look so happy when we’re done. Let’s go wipe that smile off his face.”

He looked over as they came in, and his smile turned into a grin.

“Dallas, Lieutenant Eve and Peabody, Detective Delia entering interview with Ravenwood, Louis Carroll—”