Home > Books > Abandoned in Death (In Death, #54)(121)

Abandoned in Death (In Death, #54)(121)

Author:J. D. Robb

“I know. I know. Okay.” She pulled back, swiped at the tears, then looked at Eve. “What’s next?”

“I need your statement, on record, with as much detail as you can provide. Can you tell me if you knew or had contact with Andrew Dawber before your abduction?”

“Is that his name? He insisted I call him baby darling. Made me sick, but I did it. No, I didn’t know him. I don’t think I’d seen him before, but I’m not absolutely sure. When he first came into that horrible little room, I was sort of sick and dizzy, and I thought he looked a little familiar. But I don’t know, and I don’t know that name.”

“Okay. Why don’t you…” Eve broke off when Mira came in. Rather than one of her fashionable suits, she wore slim black pants, a flowy white top with a black linen jacket over it. “Mary Kate, this is Dr. Mira.”

“I get two doctors?”

“I’m very glad to meet you, Mary Kate.” Mira extended a hand. “I work for the NYPSD.”

“Shrink. Head shrink,” Eve supplied.

“Oh. Okay.”

“Dr. Mira’s profile helped us identify and apprehend Dawber.”

Mira bounced off Eve’s statement as she sat. “You’ve been through an ordeal.”

“I get a little shaky, but mostly I’m just really pissed off.”

“Sounds healthy.”

“I’d like Mary Kate to start at the beginning, take us through it. As many details as you can,” Eve reminded her.

“All right. I planned this romantic getaway with this jerk dog of an asshole I got stupid over.”

She had a good head for details, Eve concluded as Mary Kate told her story, finished the soup along the way.

How he’d looked, how he’d sounded, what he wore. The rumbling sound that signaled departure or return. Garage door, Eve thought.

They took a break when Peabody escorted her family in. Eve stepped away from the tears, the embraces, gave them the space they needed.

“He hasn’t asked for a lawyer yet,” Peabody told her. “But he’s finally stopped yelling for his mommy and crying. He’s just sitting quietly in his cell now.”

“Good. I’m close to letting Covino go, then we’ll bring him up.”

“The search turned up a case of pressure syringes locked in the van—loaded ones. Zip ties, a stunner—police issue—a gurney, a ramp. And he put together his own lab on the third floor of the house—probably to make what’s in the syringes, and whatever drugs he put in their food. McNab says he kept really good records in there.”

“He would. He wouldn’t be able to help himself. Contact Dickhead.”

“Crap.”

“Yeah. He’s going to go off about this—Dawber worked under him. Shut him down, tell him to get his ass into the lab, and identify what’s in the syringes, what we send him from the home lab. If he gives you any grief, tell him the commander and the chief are already informed and involved—and you’re happy to inform them of his lack of cooperation.”

“That actually might be sort of fun.”

“Take what you can where you find it. Book an interview room first, and have Dawber brought up. He can sit in the box while we finish up.”

Eve walked back across the room.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’d like to get the rest of Mary Kate’s statement so we can let her go.”

Mary Kate’s mother leaped up, threw her arms around Eve, and basically squeezed the breath out of her.

“You saved my girl, my precious girl. You’re an angel. A goddess!”

“I’m a cop, Ms. Covino. If I could just—”

Ms. Covino pulled back, eyes very like her daughter’s, red-rimmed but fierce. “I want you to hurt this man who took my girl.”

“I understand, but we’re the police. I’m not allowed to physically harm a suspect.”

Now Ms. Covino gave Eve a poke. “I saw the vid. Twice!”

“Mom. Let Lieutenant Dallas finish.”

“Finish him,” the woman whispered in Eve’s ear, then went back to stand behind her daughter like a palace guard.

“All right, Mary Kate, you said tonight when he came into this new space where he’d put you, he was in a bad mood, but you were able to placate him.”

“That’s right. I’d decided I had to do whatever I could to string him along until somebody found me, or I found a way out. He went into that little brat mode—with the accent like I told you before? And he got mad at me. So I pulled this one out.”