The In Death Collection Books 6-10 - J. D. Robb [521]
“Gives me that shit about privacy acts. Politicians.” She set her teeth, flexed and unflexed her fingers as she waited for the last line of bureaucracy to tumble. “Well, son of a bitch.”
“What is it? Who is it?” Peabody craned her neck to see the data on Eve’s display.
“B. Donald Branson’s private line.”
“Branson.” The blood drained out of Peabody’s face. “But, Zeke. Last night . . .”
“Transmit that call to Feeney, get him to run a voice check. We need to know if that was Branson on the call.” She was moving fast as she snapped out the order. “Contact the guard on Clarissa Branson’s room,” she continued as they strode down the corridor. “Tell him no one goes in or out of it until we get there.”
She pulled out her own communicator as they swung outside into the cold. “McNab, get down to Mira’s. I want Zeke brought back up. Tuck him away until you hear from me.”
“Zeke wouldn’t know anything about Cassandra, Dallas. He’d never—”
Eve spared Peabody a look as she jumped into the car. “Toys and tools, Peabody. I’d say your brother was being used as both.”
chapter eighteen
Clarissa was gone. There was nothing to be gained by berating and browbeating the guard on duty, but Eve did it anyway.
“She looks at him, smiles tearfully, and asks if she can go sit in the gardens.” Eve rolled her eyes and tapped the note Clarissa had left behind in her palm. “Then she uses the can I have a glass of water routine she did with Zeke and our boneheaded hero runs off to fetch.”
She circled the conference room, waiting for Zeke to be brought in. “Oops, where’d she go? It takes him thirty fucking minutes to call it in because he’s so sure a sweet little thing like her is still around somewhere. But does he check her room? See the tearful good-bye note?”
Eve unfolded it again while Peabody wisely remained silent.
I’m sorry, so sorry, for everything that happened. It was my fault. All of it. Please forgive me. I’m doing what’s best for Zeke. He can’t be held responsible. I can never face him again.
“So she leaves him holding the bag. Let’s hear it for true love.” Though Peabody said nothing, Eve held up her hand and began to go through the steps and stages. “Zeke hears them fighting through the vent in the workroom. It’s Branson’s house, his workroom. He knows Zeke’s down there. According to Clarissa, he was wild to keep anyone from knowing he knocked her around. So why doesn’t he fix the damn vent? The staff’s all droids, so he doesn’t worry about them. But he’s got a live one now.”
“You think he wanted Zeke to hear?”
“Follow along, Peabody. I’ve been working this out since last night.”
“Last night?” Peabody’s mouth dropped open. “But, Dallas, there was nothing in the prelim report about—”
She broke off, winced, as Eve shot her a cool stare. “You read my prelim, Officer Peabody?”
“Strap me in irons,” Peabody muttered, “and flog me. He’s my brother.”
“I’ll reserve the flogging for a later date. No, I didn’t put anything into the prelim because the main concern was getting Zeke’s story down and putting him in the clear. But the whole deal screamed setup. Slick, organized, damn well-oiled, but a setup.”
“I don’t see it.”
“You can’t see past Zeke. Take the steps here. They pull Zeke in from out west. I don’t care how good he is, they could’ve found somebody to do this work without transporting him in. But they pull him, a single guy, a Free-Ager. Branson kicks his wife to hell and back, but he lets her import a young, attractive man into the house. And he’s diddling with having carpentry work done when, we suspect, he’s laying plans for the biggest terrorist siege on the city since the Urban Wars.”
“None of it makes sense.”
“Not separately, but it does when you connect the dots. He needed a fall guy.”
“But, for God’s sake, Dallas, Zeke killed him.”
“I don’t think so. Why haven’t they found the body? Why did this cowed, terrified woman manage to get rid of it in less than five minutes?”
“But—who died?”
“This time around, I don’t think anybody did.