Page 165 of Random in Death
“I want the sex in or on all of the first three, and elsewhere.”
“I’m in.” Munching on pizza, she looked up at her board. “He wanted sex, but not the intimacy, the unity, the sharing of bodies, minds, certainly not hearts. He’d have killed her after, because that—destroying, eliminating, punishing—that’s the main thing. He hates them, the girls. Women, females. He feels superior to the boys—men, males—but he hates the girls.”
“He’d have hurt this one. Del. Before he used that second syringe, he’d have hurt her. That’s what he is. She? An attractive vessel for his hate and rage.”
“Mira will sort through the whys—I’ve sent her a request to observe when I have him in the box.” She shrugged. “But the whys are pretty clear. What he made Del say and do, allow him to do? He’s entitled. He’s better and smarter, comes from money and privilege, and he’s psychotic. They should all do what he wants, when he wants. If they don’t? They deserve to be forced, and they deserve to die.”
“Not yet seventeen,” Roarke murmured. “And planning to kill his father.”
“It puts the money in his hands. The power of it. He doesn’t love. He’s incapable of genuine feeling. So I want a sense of the father. Didn’t he see? If not, why not?
“Nobody’s using Interview, so I’m going to put the father in there. I want to set it up. I want to show him what we found in that lab, on those comps, in that journal.”
“Are you thinking of charging him? Neglect, accessory?”
“I want to get a sense,” she repeated.
He helped her set up as she wanted in Interview A, then stepped back as Peabody and McNab returned. She laid out her strategy.
Her comm signaled.
“Send him up,” Eve responded. “He’s here. Alone. I wondered if he’d talk a lawyer into coming in with him. Peabody, you can handle the e’s?”
Peabody shot two thumbs up.
“Any trouble there,” McNab put in, “just signal. We’re in Observation.”
When the men walked off, Eve laid down her files, unsealed evidence boxes. Then she went out to wait for the elevator.
When it opened, Bryce rushed out. He wore khakis, a pale blue golf shirt, and looked both harried and stressed.
“Dr. Bryce. Lieutenant Dallas.”
“I want to see my son. I want to see Francis.”
“He’s locked down for the night. I can arrange for you to see him at eight tomorrow morning.”
“He’s not staying in a cell overnight! I’ll pay his bail until this horrible mistake is corrected.”
“Dr. Bryce, he won’t have a bail hearing until tomorrow, and my experience tells me bail will be denied. Do you understand the charges against your son?”
“I don’t understand anything!” Against a golden summer tan, his light green eyes glittered with anger and fear.
“If you’ll step in here, we’ll explain it to you.”
Bryce drew himself up, a tall man who hadn’t passed his height to his son. “Francis is only sixteen. You can’t lock him in a cell.”
“He’s charged with two counts of first-degree murder, one count of attempted murder, one count of sexual assault and attempted rape.”
“That’s just ridiculous. Francis is—”
“Also charged with multiple counts of creating, possessing, and using illegal substances, lethal substances, on others without their consent. Please come with me.”
She led him to Interview. “This is my partner, Detective Peabody. Have a seat, Dr. Bryce. Francis has an exceptional knowledge of chemistry, correct?”
“He’s brilliant, but that hardly—”
“Please sit.” Eve did so herself. “When’s the last time you were in his home lab?”