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“He targeted her because of Alex?”

“He and Alex had words, before Max went down and right after. Yeah, he thought about payback there for a long time—hell, he promised Alex he’d pay. Coltraine was the payment.”

“You contacted her that night.”

“Max set it up. Had Sandy persuade Alex they needed to come to New York for a while, deal with some business here. Sandy knew Alex had some regrets about Coltraine, and he played on them—nudged him into contacting her, asking her over. After that, it was easy. Sandy talked Alex into going out, taking a walk. I tagged her, told her I had a solid on the Chinatown case, needed her to come. Max told me how he wanted it to go down, and I did exactly what he wanted.”

“You waited for her in the stairway.”

“Just a stun there. Max wanted it done a certain way, so it was done a certain way. I carried her down to the basement, brought her back so I could give her Max’s message. ‘Alex is killing you, bitch. Alex is taking your own goddamn weapon and pressing it to your throat. Feel it? You don’t walk away from a Ricker and live.’ He wanted her to die thinking Alex ordered the hit. If Alex went down for it, so much the better. Either way, it was payback. And the kicker was it would happen on your turf. A little needle in your arm.

“He thinks about you a lot.”

“So will you,” Eve said.

EPILOGUE

WHEN it WAS DONE, WHEN EVE Felt As MUCH DISGUST As satisfaction, she ordered the uniforms to take Cleo to booking.

“Do you want to walk it through?” Peabody asked her.

“No, I really don’t.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Peabody offered. “It leaves you a little bit raw. She killed over a dozen people for him. Just because he said to.”

“No, not just because. That’s only part of it. The rest? It’s just in her. God knows why.”

“I’ll write it up. I’d like to,” she added before Eve could speak. “For Coltraine.”

“Okay.”

Alone, Eve simply sat down in the conference room. Too many things churning, she realized. Too many thoughts buzzing.

Morris came in quietly, sat across from her. “Thank you.”

For reasons Eve couldn’t name she braced her elbows on the table and pressed her fingers to eyes that stung.

“You feel some sympathy for her.”

“I don’t know what I feel,” she managed.

“Some small seed of sympathy for a woman whose father could have such contempt for her. I saw her face when he spoke to you about her. His words cut her to pieces. I was glad of it, and still I felt it, too. That small seed of sympathy.”

Eve dropped her hands. “She deserved it. All of it. More of it.”

“Yes. And still. That’s what makes us different than she is, Eve. We can feel that, even though. I’m leaving tonight for Atlanta. I’d like to tell her family her killer—her killers—have been brought to justice. I’d like to do that myself.”

“Yeah, okay. Sure. Are you . . .” She was nearly afraid to ask. “Are you coming back?”

“Yes. This is my place, this is my work. I’m coming back.” He put a box on the table. “This was hers. I want you to have it.”

“Morris, I can’t—”

“It’s a small thing.” He opened the lid himself. Inside was a glass butterfly, jeweled wings lifted. “She told me it was the first thing she bought herself when she came here. That it always made her smile. It would mean a lot to me if you’d take it.”

She nodded, then laid a hand over his. “It wasn’t just the job this time.”

“I know. But then, for you, it never is.” He rose, crossed over. He took her face in his hands and kissed her softly on the mouth. “I’ll be back. I promise,” he said and left her with the jeweled butterfly.

She lost track of the time she sat there, waiting for herself to settle, to smooth out. Lost track of the time alone before Roarke came into the room.

Like Morris, he sat across from her. He studied her face in silence.

“I’m tired,” she told him.

“I know you are.”

“I want to feel good about this, but I can’t quite get there. It was good work, I know that. Everybody did good work. But I can’t feel good about it. I just feel tired.”

She took a breath. “I wanted her cut to pieces, and