Page 167 of Bonded in Death

“He will, as we all know, have to serve out his sentence—life, no parole—where those previous crimes were committed.”

Eve just gulped more coffee. “And?”

“Even with extradition in the works, you’d have full authority to interview him here for crimes committed here. We, of course, have an absolute right to try and, unquestionably given the evidence, convict him of those crimes. And those crimes carry an equally heavy weight.”

Eve went for more coffee. “And?”

“As I said, I know when a deal’s going to go through. This will. The rest is up to you.”

“I want the rest. I can make it happen. I’m going to call him up soon, get started.”

“When’s the last time you slept?”

“I honestly can’t tell you. But I’ve hit some point where that just seems irrelevant. I want to wrap him, so we’re going to wrap him. Then I’ll sleep.”

She went straight to the conference room. “Tag Summerset, let him know we’re bringing Potter up inside an hour.”

“Is it set?” Peabody asked.

“Reo’s confident, so we’ll be confident. Let Mira know. And Whitney. I’ll book the interview room.”

“Already done,” Peabody told her. “We’ve got A. I really don’t have to be good cop?”

“Be as mean as you want. But smart mean.”

“They’ll be on their way as soon as possible.” Roarke pocketed his ’link. “Go do what you need to, both of you. I’ll finish this.”

She went back to her office, ordered uniforms to bring Potter to Interview A, cleared the group to come to Homicide and go into Observation.

She wanted a shower, but she’d already used the spare shirt in her locker, so one more thing to let go.

Instead she sat a moment, in the quiet, and looked at her board.

Before she slept, she thought, she’d contact Rossi’s family, let them know Potter was in custody. And she was bound and determined to inform them of his payment for Rossi’s death.

“It won’t go unanswered.”

Though she had no investigative need for it, she added Devin McReedy’s photo to her board.

“It won’t go unanswered.”

She wanted cold, so programmed for a Pepsi, and guzzled half the tube before she heard the click of heels. Not Reo, she decided. Mira.

And Mira had dressed for the occasion in a severe dark suit and single strand of pearls.

“You’re so pale,” Mira said. “And there’s blood on your shirt.”

“I’m good. My bloodstream’s a hundred percent caffeine, but I’m good. He’s on his way up.”

With a nod, Mira looked at the board. “That’s the boy he took. Poor little guy had a rough go.”

“Potter had the gas rigged, so it would’ve been a lot rougher. And Potter’s going to pay for it.”

“It’s set then?”

“Reo says it’s going to go through. Obviously I don’t need a confession on the kid—though I want one. And I’ll get one on Rossi. We’ll do our part, and the Brits better do theirs. That’s Reo now,” she said when she heard the next set of heels.

Reo stepped in, smiled. “Done. Some paperwork, but done. My boss and Tibble gave it the last push.”

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