Naked in Death - J. D. Robb [109]
It made Eve sick to listen.
“In the year 2016,” she said softly, “at the end of the Urban Revolt, before the gun ban, there were over ten thousand deaths and injuries from guns in the borough of Manhattan alone.”
She continued to watch DeBlass sell his snake oil while Roarke laid a hand at the base of her spine.
“Before we legalized prostitution, there was a rape or attempted rape every three seconds. Of course, we still have rape, because it has much less to do with sex than with power, but the figures have dropped. Licensed prostitutes don’t have pimps, so they aren’t beaten, battered, killed. And they can’t use drugs. There was a time when women went to butchers to deal with an unwanted pregnancy. When they had to risk their lives or ruin them. Babies were born blind, deaf, deformed before genetic engineering and the research it made possible to repair in vitro. It’s not a perfect world, but you listen to him and you realize it could be a lot worse.”
“Do you know what the media is going to do to him when this hits?”
“Crucify him,” Eve murmured. “I hope to God it doesn’t make him a martyr.”
“The voice of the moral right suspected of incest, trucking with prostitutes, committing murder. I don’t think so. He’s finished.” Roarke nodded. “In more ways than one.”
Eve heard the thunderous applause from the gallery. From the sound of it, DeBlass’s team had been careful to pepper the spectators with their own.
Discretion be damned, she thought as the gavel was struck and an hour’s recess was called. She moved through the milling aides, assistants, and pages until she came to DeBlass. He was being congratulated on his eloquence, slapped on the back by his senatorial supporters.
She waited until he saw her, until his gaze skimmed over her, then Roarke, until his mouth tightened. “Lieutenant. If you need to speak with me, we can adjourn briefly to my office. Alone. I can spare ten minutes.”
“You’re going to have plenty of time, senator. Senator DeBlass, you’re under arrest for the murders of Sharon DeBlass, Lola Starr, and Georgie Castle.” As he blustered in protest and the murmurs began, she lifted her voice. “Additional charges include the incestuous rapes of Catherine DeBlass, your daughter, and Sharon DeBlass, your granddaughter.”
He was still standing, frozen in shock when she linked the restraints over his wrist, turned him, and secured his hands behind his back. “You are under no obligation to make a statement.”
“This is an outrage.” He exploded over the standard recitation of revised Miranda. “I’m a senator of the United States. This is federal property.”
“And these two federal agents will escort you,” she added. “You are entitled to an attorney or representative.” As she continued to recite his rights, a flash from her eyes had the federal deputies and onlookers backing off. “Do you understand these rights?”
“I’ll have your badge, you bitch.” He began to wheeze as she muscled him through the crowd.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Catch your breath, senator. We can’t have you popping off with a cardiac.” She leaned closer to his ear. “And you won’t have my badge, you bastard. I’m going to have your ass.” She turned him over to the federal agents. “They’re waiting for him in New York,” she said briefly.
She could hardly be heard now. DeBlass was screaming, demanding immediate release. The Senate had erupted with voices and bodies. Through it, she spotted Rockman. He came toward her, his face a cold mask of fury.
“You’re making a mistake, lieutenant.”
“No, I’m not. But you made one in your statement. The way I see it, that’s going to make you accessory after the fact. I’m going to start working on that when I get back to New York.”
“Senator DeBlass is a great man. You’re nothing but a pawn for the Liberal Party and their plans to destroy him.”
“Senator DeBlass is an incestuous child molester. A rapist and a murderer. And what I am, pal, is the cop who’s taking