Delusion in Death

according to the father. Destroyed the shoes. The timing coordinates with them staying put, staying in one place, until he went to college.”
    “Factoring in what else we know and believe, this incident taught him that authority, or those stronger than he, could punish or hurt him,” Mira said. “He went under—that is, changed the face, the surface in order to blend. Violence brought violence on him.
    “Their hearts are broken,” Mira added, “because in those hearts they know he’s capable of doing what he’s done. And because they love him, and did the best they could.”
    “He made his choice. It’s not on them.”
    “Parents always feel the pride, and the responsibility.”
    “It’s going to get tougher on them, so you’ll help them there. A lot of stories are going to come out once we take him down. Things he did, trouble he caused, people he pissed off.” Eve checked the time, cutting it close. “Additionally, he found out about his connection to Menzini a few months ago. The trigger.”
    “Yes, I agree.”
    “The mother kept documents, photos, journals—and I want a look at those. She had them stored away. Whatever’s in there has to include the formula.”
    “That not only gave him means,” Mira commented, “but permission.”
    “I’m sending a team over to his place. They’ll find it, and that’s the smoking gun. If the PA can’t build a solid case from what we’re stacking for him, he’s useless. But I want Callaway to tell us. I want him to need to tell us. We’re frustrated, missing pieces, basically nowhere, and under pressure from the media, from the brass.”

    “We’re a bunch of women,” Peabody put in, “who need his help.”
    “That’s how we start it. Give me five to set up the search team. I’ll bring him in when he gets here, so look busy and baffled.”
    “Take off your jacket,” Mira told her.
    “What?”
    “Leave your jacket on the back of the chair. You’ll appear more desk work–oriented, and it exposes your weapon. He’ll resent the fact you have a weapon. You’re an authority figure, capable of violence, yet he’s smarter, so much more clever.”
    “Got it.” Eve tugged it off, stood in a black sweater and shoulder harness. “Teasdale’s coming in after he’s here. We don’t like her.”
    “Actually, I kind of do.”
    “Peabody, catch on.”
    “Oh, we act like we don’t.”
    “Five minutes,” Eve said and hurried out.
    She contacted Jenkinson and Reineke first, ordered them to coordinate with Cher Reo for the warrant and move on it immediately. As she contacted Roarke she grabbed one more cup of real coffee.
    “I figured I’d get your admin,” she said when he came on himself.
    “I happen to be free at the moment.”
    “I’ve got Callaway coming in to help the inept females, and a search warrant for his place. He found docs his mother had stored away. I need them. Maybe he’s got some docs on where he’s getting the drugs, the fixings. I need his source. Jenkinson and Reineke are getting the warrant and implementing it. If you want in—”
    “It sounds like fun.”
    “If you’re busy with—”
    “Aren’t I entitled to a bit of fun?”
    “You’re right. It’s the least I can do for you. I’m going to see ifFeeney can join in, or send McNab. I want all his electronics, and if he’s not a complete idiot, he’s got a hide in his place. Somewhere the cleaning people or a casual guest wouldn’t stumble on his work. He has to cook up the substance somewhere.”
    “Even more fun.”
    “I’m going to get mine by twisting a confession out of him.”
    “We’ll plan to celebrate later.”
    “How?”
    He smiled, slow and wicked. “I’ll think of something. Kick his ass, Lieutenant.”
    “Count on it.”
    When she got the signal Callaway was on his way up, she strode back into the bullpen, caught Carmichael and Sanchez on their way out.
    “We caught a fresh one,” Carmichael told her.
    “Let it hold a minute. Give me grief.”
    “Sorry, what?”
    “Suspect’s coming up. Give me grief, put on a show, storm out. Mostly you,” she said to Sanchez. “He sees women as weak and expendable.”
    “Is that so?” Carmichael muttered.
    “What the hell do you expect?” Sanchez demanded, his voice bordering on a shout. “I’m running this department, working damn near around the clock.”
    “Hold it down, Detective,” Eve ordered, but wearily.
    “I am holding it down. Holding it all down, while you’re