The In Death Collection Books 21-25 - J. D. Robb [552]
“Fifty.”
“Fifty what?”
“I got fifty that says I’m right, you’re wrong.”
“You want to bet on a murderer?”
“It’s just money.”
“All right,” Mira said after a moment. “Fifty it is.”
“Done. Now I’ll tell you why she didn’t do it. The school’s her core, her pride, her vanity. Maybe she could kill, but she’d do it off school grounds. She wouldn’t bring that kind of publicity, that kind of smear to her beloved Sarah Child. This is costing her students. And it’s probably going to cost her her job.”
“A good argument, but self-preservation supersedes even a treasured job. If Foster knew about her relationship with Williams, he was a direct threat—and may have told her he intended to report her. Williams, by her own statement, did just that, in an attempt to blackmail her into keeping him on.”
“Want to make it a hundred?”
Before Mira could answer, Eve’s communicator signaled again. “Okay, what now? Dallas.”
“Dallas, Allika Straffo’s on her way to the hospital. OD’d. Her condition is critical.”
“Where’s the kid?”
“The au pair took her. They left right after the ambulance, took a cab to Parkside, it’s the closest. I missed this by minutes, again. First on scene said the kid was hysterical.”
“I bet she was. You in the penthouse?”
“I came up to talk to the cops who responded to the nine-one-one. MTs were called in by the au pair. Reported overdose, which sent out the uniforms.”
“I want the diary. Find it. I’m headed to the hospital.”
“This isn’t your fault.” Mira shifted in her seat when Eve whipped the wheel. “If this woman couldn’t face the idea that her daughter killed and tried—or succeeded—in self-terminating, it isn’t on you.”
“The fact that I didn’t figure the kid would kill her own mother is on me. If Allika Straffo swallowed a fistful of pills, it’s because that little bitch gave them to her. Goddamn it.”
She punched the gas. “If she was going to do herself, she’d have left a note. Going to protect the kid, she’d have left a note confessing. If she was just going to give it up, can’t face it anymore, why did she call the kid home?”
“Rayleen realized her mother knew, and might be a threat.” Mira shook her head. “Induce her to take an overdose, and the threat’s removed. Her own mother.”
“She shoved her little brother, who was wearing footie pj’s, down the steps on Christmas morning. Pumping Mom full of pills isn’t much of a stretch.”
“If Allika Straffo dies, you’ll never prove it. Even if she lives, she may not implicate her own child.”
“She’ll be counting on that. She’s going to be wrong.”
Eve strode into the chaotic misery of the ER, scanned the bruised, the bleeding, the broken. She snagged a hustling nurse, then flipped out her badge to cut through any bull. “Straffo, Allika, OD. Where?”
“Trauma Room Three. Badge or no badge, you can’t go in. Dr. Dimatto’s a little busy trying to save her life.”
Louise Dimatto. Eve smiled. Sometimes it actually paid to have friends.
“You can get in there. So go in, tell Louise that Dallas needs a status report on her patient. Where’s the kid? The Straffo kid?”
“In the A chairs, with her nanny, father’s on the way. You know Doctor D?”
“Yeah, we go back. A chairs?”
“Follow me.”
Apparently claiming Louise had grease, and slid Eve and Mira straight through the general area to the trauma section. In an alcove across from a set of double swinging doors sat Rayleen, huddled against Cora.
The kid’s face was splotchy from weeping, eyes red and swollen. Eve thought: Good job. Drama Club paid off.
Cora spotted Eve first, and her eyes went weepy. “Lieutenant Dallas. It’s…it’s the missus.”
But Eve’s eyes were all for Rayleen. The girl’s body stiffened. Didn’t expect me to drop in, did you? Eve thought. Then Rayleen pressed closer to Cora.
“I don’t want to talk to her. I don’t want to talk to anybody. I just want