The In Death Collection Books 6-10 - J. D. Robb [629]
“Gee, that’s really sweet, Feeney. Maybe you could tell her you want to save it for special occasions.”
“You think she’d tumble for that? Dallas, you don’t understand women.”
“Got me there.” They turned the corner and saw Peabody outside Interview Three talking to another uniform. Eve recognized the tall young cop, sent him a nod when he turned, saw her, flushed.
“Well, it’s Officer Trueheart. How’s it going?”
“It’s going good, Lieutenant. The suspect’s inside.”
“Subject,” Eve corrected. “We’re not calling him suspect at this point.” She watched him process the difference in procedure. She could smell rookie on him as clearly as she could smell Feeney’s cologne. “Did the subject request a lawyer or representative?”
“No, sir. I think—” He cut himself off, stiffened his already soldierly back. “I beg your pardon, Lieutenant.”
“You’re allowed to think, Trueheart. In fact, we encourage thinking around here.” She remembered, with some bitterness, his first trainer who’d not only discouraged thinking, but humanity. “Give me your take.”
“Yes, sir. Well, sir, I think he’s too mad to ask for representation at this time. Mad, Lieutenant, plus he wants to go a few rounds with you. In my opinion. The subject referred to you in . . . inflammatory terms during transport.”
“And here I was planning to be nice to him. Stand by, Trueheart. You can go to Observation if you want. We’ll need you to transport the subject, one way or the other, after interview.”
“Yes, sir, thank you, sir. And I’d like to express my appreciation for your assistance in having me transferred from stiff-scooping detail to Central.”
“The transfer was easy, Trueheart. Staying here will be up to you. Are we set?” she asked Peabody and Feeney.
She opened the door, strolled inside.
Stiles sat at the small table, his arms crossed, his face mutinous. He sent Eve one steely glare. “And what is the meaning of this outrage, Lieutenant Dallas? I want an explanation as to why I was removed from my home by two uniformed officers and shoved into the backseat of a police car.”
“Peabody, make a note to speak with said uniformed officers. No shoving.”
“So noted, sir.”
“Record on,” she said meandering to the table. “Interview with subject Kenneth Stiles, regarding case number HS46178-C. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, as primary. Also in attendance Feeney, Captain Ryan, and Peabody, Officer Delia. Mr. Stiles, have you been informed of your rights and obligations in this matter?”
“The cop with peach fuzz on his chin recited the standard. I want to know—”
“And do you understand these rights and obligations, Mr. Stiles?”
He showed his teeth. “I’m not a nitwit; of course I understand them. I insist—”
“I apologize for the inconvenience.” She settled back, tried out a smile. There was no need to repeat the revised Miranda and remind him he could holler lawyer. “I realize this is unpleasant for you, again apologize for the inconvenience, and will try to expedite this interview.”
Feeney gave a sharp snort so that Eve sent him a quick, worried look that had Stiles shifting in his seat.
“What is this about?” Stiles demanded. “I have a right to know why I’ve been dragged down here like a common criminal.”
“You’ve been read your rights, Stiles.” Feeney’s voice was clipped and harsh. “Now we’re the ones who ask the questions.”
“I’ve already answered questions. I don’t know anything other than what I’ve already told Lieutenant Dallas.”
“I guess you don’t know anything about that poor slob who ended up dangling by his neck a couple feet off the floor, either.”
“Feeney.” Eve held up her hands for peace. “Easy.”
Feeney folded his arms over his chest and tried to look burly. “He keeps pulling my chain, I’m pulling his back.”
“Let’s take a minute. Want some water?”
Stiles blinked at her, baffled. He’d been ready to rip into Eve, and now she was giving him