Delusion in Death

  When they stepped outside the room, Teasdale glanced back. “They’ll grieve.”

  “A lot of people will.” Eve pulled out her ’link, nodded. “Peabody’s back. I need to talk to her, and we need to keep the Callaways under wrap. He’s going to be here any minute.”

  Mira came out of Observation. “I’d like to go in and speak with them now.”

  “Could you give me some time first?” Teasdale asked. “In this first wave of grief, they may tell me more.”

  “Callaway’s coming in soon,” Eve told Mira, “and I need you in there. Why don’t you observe for a few minutes, and if you think Teasdale’s got in, come to the conference room. I’ll signal you when we’ve got him set,” she told Teasdale. “Here’s how it’s going to work.”

  Once Eve laid it out, she went straight to Peabody in the conference room. “Give me what you got, make it quick.”

  “Boiled down, Fisher wasn’t a Callaway fan. She bitched about him to the roommate. Main beef? He had her do some grunt work on one of his projects. She came up with a fresh angle, created an entire ad—tags, visuals, market projections. He took the credit.”

  “Did she tell Weaver?”

  “No. But the next time he dumped something on her, she dated and initialed all her work. And she ran it all by Weaver first, like she was looking for a second, more experienced opinion.”

  “Smart. She got the credit, and he had to swallow it.”

  “He never used her again. Plus she got a bonus, and got to head another, smaller project. Fisher was friends with one of the people she chose for the project team. I went to see her, too. She corroborated the roommate’s story.”

  “We’ve got the Callaways in Interview. Teasdale’s doing a second pass.” She paused when Mira came in.

  “Has Teasdale got it?”

  “Yes, she’s very good. I’ll talk with them later.”

  “I need to run this through for Peabody, and I’d like your opinion,” she told Mira. “It’s looking like they moved around a lot because Callaway got into trouble as a kid. He punched his mother in the face when she caught him stealing from the house bank.”

  “Nice,” Peabody muttered.

  “For shoes. The father tore him a new one, first physical discipline according to the father. Destroyed the shoes. The timing coordinates with them staying put, staying in one place, until he went to college.”

  “Factoring in what else we know and believe, this incident taught him that authority, or those stronger than he, could punish or hurt him,” Mira said. “He went under—that is, changed the face, the surface in order to blend. Violence brought violence on him.

  “Their hearts are broken,” Mira added, “because in those hearts they know he’s capable of doing what he’s done. And because they love him, and did the best they could.”

  “He made his choice. It’s not on them.”

  “Parents always feel the pride, and the responsibility.”

  “It’s going to get tougher on them, so you’ll help them there. A lot of stories are going to come out once we take him down. Things he did, trouble he caused, people he pissed off.” Eve checked the time, cutting it close. “Additionally, he found out about his connection to Menzini a few months ago. The trigger.”

  “Yes, I agree.”

  “The mother kept documents, photos, journals—and I want a look at those. She had them stored away. Whatever’s in there has to include the formula.”

  “That not only gave him means,” Mira commented, “but permission.”

  “I’m sending a team over to his place. They’ll find it, and that’s the smoking gun. If the PA can’t build a solid case from what we’re stacking for him, he’s useless. But I want Callaway to tell us. I want him to need to tell us. We’re frustrated, missing pieces, basically nowhere, and under pressure from the media, from the brass.”

  “We’re a bunch of women,” Peabody put in, “who need his help.”

  “That’s how we start it. Give me five to set up the search team. I’ll bring him in when he gets here, so look busy and baffled.”

  “Take off your jacket,” Mira told her.

  “What?”

  “Leave your jacket on the back of the chair. You’ll appear more desk work–oriented, and it exposes your weapon. He’ll resent the fact you have a weapon. You’re an authority figure, capable of violence, yet he’s smarter, so much more clever.”

  “Got it.” Eve tugged it off, stood in a black sweater and shoulder harness. “Teasdale’s coming in after he’s here. We don’t like her.”

  “Actually, I kind of do.”

  “Peabody, catch on.”

  “Oh, we act like we don’t.”

  “Five minutes,” Eve said and hurried out.

  She contacted Jenkinson and Reineke first, ordered them to coordinate with Cher Reo for the warrant and move on it immediately. As she contacted Roarke she grabbed one more cup of real coffee.

  “I figured I’d get your admin,” she said when he came on himself.

  “I happen to be free at the moment.”

  “I’ve got Callaway coming in to help the inept females, and a search warrant for his place. He found docs his mother had stored away. I need them. Maybe he’s got some docs on where he’s getting the drugs, the fixings. I need his source. Jenkinson and Reineke are getting the warrant and implementing it. If you want in—”

  “It sounds like fun.”

  “If you’re busy with—”

  “Aren’t I entitled to a bit of fun?”

  “You’re right. It’s the least I can do for you. I’m going to see if Feeney can join in, or send McNab. I want all his electronics, and if he’s not a complete idiot, he’s got a hide in his place. Somewhere the cleaning people or a casual guest wouldn’t stumble on his work. He has to cook up the substance somewhere.”

  “Even more fun.”

  “I’m going to get mine by twisting a confession out of him.”

  “We’ll plan to celebrate later.”

  “How?”

  He smiled, slow and wicked. “I’ll think of something. Kick his ass, Lieutenant.”

  “Count on it.”

  When she got the signal Callaway was on his way up, she strode back into the bullpen, caught Carmichael and Sanchez on their way out.

  “We caught a fresh one,” Carmichael told her.

  “Let it hold a minute. Give me grief.”

  “Sorry, what?”

  “Suspect’s coming up. Give me grief, put on a show, storm out. Mostly you,” she said to Sanchez. “He sees women as weak and expendable.”

  “Is that so?” Carmichael muttered.

  “What the hell do you expect?” Sanchez demanded, his voice bordering on a shout. “I’m running this department, working damn near around the clock.”

  “Hold it down, Detective,” Eve ordered, but wearily.

  “I am holding it down. Holding it all down, while you’re dancing with the feds, giving the media face time, and running in circles.”

  “We are carrying a lot, Lieutenant.”

  “We?” Sanchez rounded on his partner. “I’m carrying you, sister, just like always. And while I am Dallas sucks up all the manpower, all the resources. Every case we’ve got, that you dumped on us, is backed up because the lab’s put everything else on hold—on your authority.”

  “I’ve got a mass murderer who could strike again at any time, anywhere in the city,” Eve began.

  “Yeah, and you’re nowhere. You’d rather see this department go to hell than step back and let the feds take it. Get this, and get it straight, when you go down for screwing this up, I’m not going down with you.”

  He strode out, bulling by Callaway. Carmichael hunched in. “He hasn’t had much sleep, Lieutenant.” With a last nervous look, she hurried out after Sanchez.

  Eve let out a long sigh, dragged her hands through her hair as she turned. She jolted, wished she could pull off an embarrassed blush, but thought her expression accomplished the same thi
ng.

  “Mr. Callaway, thanks for coming in.”

  “Your detective made it sound important.” He glanced back in the direction Sanchez and Carmichael had taken, didn’t quite mask the smirk before he sent Eve a sympathetic look. “It must be a difficult situation for you.”

  “Everyone’s overworked and on edge. If you’ll come with me, we’re set up in a conference room.”

  “I’m not sure what I can do,” he said as Eve led the way. “How I can help.”

  “You knew several of the victims, of both attacks. You’re familiar with both locations—the layout, the employees, the neighborhood. My sense, when we talked before, is you’re observant, and the fact you were actually in the first location may help.”

  “Believe me, I’ve gone over that evening countless times.”

  “We’re hoping if we talk you through it again, you may remember some small detail. I’m not going to lie to you—” Oh yeah, she thought, I am. “We’re in a bind.”

  She opened the door to the conference room, blocking the way for just a moment to make sure her voice carried in. “I have to tell you what we discuss here, what you see here is confidential. I’m trusting you, Mr. Callaway.”

  “You can. Please, call me Lew.”

  “Lew.” She tried for a relieved smile as she gestured him inside. “Detective Peabody, my partner, and Doctor Mira, our profiler.”

  Peabody nodded, continued to work on a computer while Mira rose, hand extended. “Thank you for coming in to consult.”

  “I consider it my duty.”

  “If only more did.”

  “Do you want some crappy coffee, something from Vending?” Eve asked him.

  He gave her an easy smile. “Crappy coffee’s just fine.” He moved forward to the boards, shifted to study the victims. “All of these people. I knew how many. The media’s reported so much. But seeing them like this, all together. It’s shocking.”

  “Those responsible have a great deal to answer for,” Mira stated.

  “You’re looking for more than one person?”

  “We’ve determined it’s not possible for a single individual to pull this off.” Eve spoke briskly as she programmed a pot of coffee. “It’s too complex, involves too much risk, too much planning, too many steps.”

  “At this time,” Mira put in, “we feel it’s most probable we’re dealing with a group.” She gestured to the victim board again. “In each case one of these people sacrificed themselves for the whole.”

  “My God.” He took the coffee Eve offered, ignored her. “But why?”

  “We have a few theories, but foremost, if there’s a group, there’s a head.” Eve took a seat. “Whoever that is, must be charismatic, dominant, and highly organized and intelligent. The target locations catered to businesses and offices like your own.”

  “People who work and live in that area,” Mira continued, joining Eve at the table so Callaway stood in the position of dominance. “We expected, and hoped, he would issue a statement, reveal his agenda or demands. The fact that he hasn’t proves him canny and very, very dangerous. He understands the value of noninformation, of inciting fear and panic. Those who believe in him believe in that agenda. Without that information …” She lifted her hands.

  “Which is where you might be able to help,” Eve told him. “We’ve been able to eliminate some of the victims, through background checks, interviews. We’re taking a close look at survivors of the attacks.”

  “Ah.” He nodded. “Yes, that makes sense. Whoever the leader sent in would have the best chance of surviving—knowing what’s coming, being able to take some sort of defense against it.”

  “Exactly. It helps we don’t have to spell everything out for you.”

  “Just common sense again,” he said to Eve.

  “Now the lab has been able to identify the most probable source, and we’ve reconstructed the attack—again the most probable scenario given the data.”

  “A reconstruction? It may jog something if I could see it.”

  You’d love it, Eve thought. “Let’s hope we don’t have to go there, Lew. Even computer-generated, it’s gruesome.” She opened a file. “This woman.” She tapped her finger on CiCi Way’s photo. “Do you recognize her?”

  “She looks familiar.” He knitted his brows.

  “She’s one of the survivors.”

  He took the photo, studied it carefully. “Yes. Yes, I remember her. She was with the woman you asked us about yesterday evening. Sitting at a table with two men.”

  “If you could think back carefully,” Mira urged him. “Try to visualize the bar, your position, the movements, this woman.”

  “I had my back to the room the majority of the time.”

  “There was a mirror behind the bar,” Eve reminded him.

  “And we tend to see things that don’t really register at the time, but we can bring back.” Mira leaned forward. “I’m trained in hypnotherapy. If you’ll allow me, I might be able to help you remember.”

  “Just give me a minute to think, to visualize.” When he closed his eyes, Eve exchanged a quick glance with Mira.

  “I can see her at the table,” Callaway said slowly. “She and the other three. A lot of laughter, drinking, eating. But she … I see her looking around, and checking the time. Yes, she’s tracking the room, shifting in her chair.”

  “As if she were nervous?” Mira asked.

  “It strikes me that way. I didn’t pay attention at the time. Or I might’ve thought she was nervous to be on a kind of blind date.”

  “Why do you think she was on a blind date?” Eve asked.

  His eyes opened, stared into hers for a moment. “I must’ve heard her say. I honestly don’t—wait, yes, wait. She and the other woman got up. I think they must’ve gone down to the restroom. I can’t be sure, but they left the table, passed right by us at the bar. In fact, I was standing up by then, starting to leave. She bumped into me. Didn’t even apologize. I think she said something to the other woman about it being a blind date.”

  “So, this woman didn’t actually know the man she was with.”

  “I don’t believe so. But I had the sense the two women were friends. Good God, how could she do that to her friend, to someone who trusted her?”

  “Trust is often a weapon,” Eve said. “But we’re not absolutely certain CiCi Way was a source.”

  “You believe she was.” He shook his head as he studied her picture again. “She’s young. The young are often impressionable, easily swayed. Easily used.”

  “Did you see them come back?”

  “I was getting ready to leave, as I said, but Joe stalled me for a few minutes.” He lifted his face to the ceiling, eyes half shut. “I hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in nearly a week. I was exhausted. Joe wanted me to stay. His wife was away with the kids, and he wasn’t in the mood to go home to an empty house. But I wanted to get home, just crash for the night. I’d gotten up, yes, that’s right. I was standing, telling Joe I’d see him in the morning, when they came back. Passed the bar again. They had to walk right by to get to their table.”

  He lowered his face, widened his eyes at Eve. “She wasn’t watching where she was going.”

  “No?”

  “It was still crowded, and she was looking around again. She shoved at me. Shoved me out of her way as she went by as if she was in a hurry, and she said something rude. Something like, ‘Move your ass.’ I’d forgotten all about that. I’ve been so wrapped up in what happened to Joe, I’d forgotten about that. I walked to the door as they walked to the table. I know I looked back, she’d been so rude—and she … she took something out of her pocket as she sat down. She reached in her pocket.

  “She’s the one.” He laid his hand over the face in the photo. “She has to be the one.”

  As he spoke, the door opened and Teasdale walked in. She hesitated as she spotted Callaway, then sent Eve a hard stare. “Lieutenant, I need to speak with you a moment. Privately.”

 
“We may just have caught a break,” Eve began.

  “I prefer not to have this discussion in front of a civilian.”

  Eve surged to her feet, stomped out.

  “Looks like a power struggle,” Callaway said.

  “You could say so.” Peabody looked up from her computer. “While they’re at it, let’s go over those details again.”

  18

  “I’ve had the parents taken to a safe house. I persuaded them to tell me about a couple incidents in Callaway’s childhood.”

  “Feel free to use them,” Eve told her, “if a door opens. But don’t screw up my timing or the rhythm. We’re working him. He thinks he owns the room. I led him to one of the survivors, tailoring her into the source. He took the bait and ran with it.”

  “Once you take the bait, you’re hooked. Running becomes problematic.”

  “Whatever, he’s adding a lot of details. Too many details.”

  “Pride and pleasure cause people to elaborate as much as guilt.”

  “I’m going to push him on Jeni Curve next. The conflict between you and me gives him the illusion of power. He’s going to pride and pleasure himself right into a cage. So.” Eve hooked her thumbs in her belt loops. “I think you’re a pushy federal shill wrapped in red tape.”

  Teasdale picked a minute piece of lint from her lapel. “I see you as an incompetent, overly aggressive city employee.”

  “That should do it.” Eve opened the door. “It’s still my case.”

  “Not for long. I beg your pardon, Mr. Callaway, but I have strong objections to involving a civilian in this highly sensitive investigation, particularly one with connections to several of the victims.”

  “That connection’s given us CiCi Way, and an angle to push, Agent Teasdale,” Eve reminded her. “You and the HSO are secondary investigators in this matter. You’re basically a consultant yourself until I hear different.”

  Deliberately she turned her back on Teasdale, faced Callaway. “I’d like to move on to the second location.”

  “I wasn’t there.”

  “But you’re familiar with the café, know several of those who were killed or injured. Let’s try the visualization again.”