The In Death Collection Books 26-29 - J.D. Robb [568]
“You sit right down here. I’ll get us some coffee, and we’ll talk.”
Eve ate the muffin—truly exceptional—drank the coffee—not half bad, considering how spoiled she was—and carefully went over every step of the plan.
With the talk of leaky toilets and baked goods, Eve had concerns the woman didn’t fully understand the risk, the seriousness. The tabletop discussion served the dual purpose of fully informing her bait, and relieving Eve’s mind.
The woman asked the right questions, gave the right answers. However homey she appeared in her shiny kitchen with its display board crammed with children’s drawings, she owned a shrewd mind and a steel spine.
“Do you have any other questions? Is there anything you’re uncomfortable with or uneasy about?”
“You need to stop worrying.” Charity patted Eve’s hand. “You’re a worrier like my Serenity. I can see it. Worrying gives you tension headaches and bad digestion.”
“Mrs. Mimoto, I have to ask you. Aren’t you afraid?”
“Why should I be afraid when I’ve got the police all through the house?” Those soothing and exotic eyes peered out of the old face. “Are you going to let him hurt me?”
“No, ma’am, I promise you he won’t hurt you. But we are asking you to open your door to a murderer. And I also have to tell you, again, we could take him outside. We have enough for an arrest.”
“But it’s going to help slam-dunk your case down the road if you take him inside, and after he tries to drug me. I’ve got a judge for a daughter, and plenty of lawyers in the family. Cops, too. I know what’s what.” She leaned forward. “Do you know what I want, honey? I want you to take that little fucker down, and take him hard, and I want a piece of it.”
Eve’s lips twitched at the sound of the expletive in the pretty suburban kitchen.
“That’s what we’ll do.”
“Good. How about another muffin?”
“No, really.” Eve pushed back from the table just as MacMasters came in.
“Sorry to interrupt. Mrs. Mimoto, your husband wondered if you could give him a hand with something when you had a minute.”
“Can’t find his lucky socks.” She shook her head as she got to her feet. “Seventy years, and he can never put his hand on them. You help yourself to that coffee.” As she walked by MacMasters, she patted a hand on his arm. “We’ll get him today, and your girl can rest easy.”
MacMasters’s face tightened as he stared at the floor.
“That’s part of it,” Eve said as she crossed to him. “It’s what we do. The best we can do. I need to ask you something, Jonah, and I need to hear the truth. Is getting him going to be enough?”
MacMasters brought his gaze back to Eve’s. “You need to know if you can trust me.”
“I need to know if I can trust you. I’m not in your position, but that doesn’t mean I don’t understand the conflict.”
“I’ve thought about killing him, how easy it would be. You know I’ve thought of it.”
“If you said you hadn’t I wouldn’t believe you.” She couldn’t read his face, his eyes. He was too good a cop to show what was in his mind. “I like to think you’d have weighed the satisfaction of it against the consequences. Leaving your wife alone when she needs you most. There are plenty of other consequences, but they’re not going to weigh real heavy for you right now.”
“I want to kill him. I want him to suffer. I wish I could say the badge, what it stands for, what it is to me would stop me from killing him. I wish I could say knowing you’d take me down for it, and I’d leave Carol alone would stop me.”
“What will?”
“I want him to suffer. I think I’ll wake up every morning of my life, and my first thought will be my girl’s gone.” He took a breath, slow in, slow out. “I want to wake up every morning for the rest of my life with the second thought of knowing he’s still paying for it. Every day, every hour for the rest of my life I’ll know that. So will my wife. I need to be here when that suffering begins. You can trust me. And if that’s not enough—”
He reached for the weapon on his hip, offered it.
“You gave me the answer,” she told him.
Nodding, he holstered his weapon.
Eve went upstairs as