New York to Dallas

do murder. He’s maybe a prick, but he ain’t no killer.”

“Tell that to the medical’s widow and kid. Has he been by to see you, Deb?”

“Shit no. I’m old news to him.” She frowned into her coffee. “Prick.”

“You visited him in The Tombs.”

“Yeah, so what? It’s not against the law. Some cop framed him, set him up so she could get some flash. So he liked kiddie porn. Everybody’s got their quirks, right? Anyway, I just went in a couple times to talk to him, give him some company.”

“Eleven visits is more than a couple,” Peabody pointed out.

“What’s the difference? I haven’t seen him in, like, two years. He gave me the boot. Get that? He’s in the joint and he gives me the boot. Prick.”

“How did you and McQueen get acquainted?” Eve asked her.

“What’s it to you?”

At Eve’s nod, Peabody took a file from her bag, handed it to Eve. She walked it over, set it on the tiny, crowded counter. Opened it. “Take a look. This is what he kept in a locked room in his apartment twelve years ago.”

Bracken’s face paled, but she shook her head again. “It was a frame-up.”

“I was in that room. I found those girls.”

“You’re the one who set him up?”

“I didn’t set him up, but I took him down. And I will again. Here’s what he did yesterday, so I’d know he was back in business.” She showed her the evidence photo of Julie Kopeski. “She and her cohab live in that apartment now. McQueen broke in. He beat the crap out of her, raped her. I wonder, Deb, if he’ll decide to look you up, renew your acquaintance.”

“I wanna sit down.”

“Go ahead.”

She made her way through the clutter, dropped into a chair. “This isn’t bullshit?”

“Do you want to see a picture of the medical he cut up?”

“No. Christ no. I liked the guy. I mean I really liked him. He talked to me like I was special, said real sweet things. And he’s nice looking, you know? He just seemed so sad, and like he needed somebody to talk to, to care about him. It really hurt my feelings when he said he didn’t want to see me anymore. And he took me off the visitor’s list, wouldn’t answer my messages.”

“You didn’t start visiting him out of the goodness of your heart.”

“See I was in this program. I had some issues with . . . substances. It was like community service, supposed to be good for me. And okay, I’m clean now. You can do a test. I’ve been clean for almost nine months. But maybe back then I still had issues, and I got a hundred for the visits. I did it for the money at first, but then I really liked the prick. You know?”

“Who made the arrangements?”

“I don’t like to get him in trouble.”

“Deb, McQueen had a steady stream of women visiting him. Women like you,” Eve added, “with issues. McQueen liked to work with a partner. A woman with issues.”

Spots of color bloomed on her cheeks as her mouth dropped open. “Fuck me! I’d never do shit to a kid—to anybody. Okay, maybe when I had issues I skimmed a few pockets, ran a few games, but that was part of the issue. I never hurt anybody. I wouldn’t have helped him do anything to a kid. Christ sake.”

“Which is probably why he gave you the boot. Who set you up?”

“Stib. That son of a bitch. I’ll kill him. I don’t mean for real,” she said quickly.

“Randall Stibble?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She shoved at the mess of her two-toned hair. “He headed up the program, was like the counselor, and he did that stuff for inmates. I got messed up when Isaac cut me off, and I dropped out of the program, got sort of deeper into the issues awhile. I’m clean now. Swear to God.”

“I believe you. Did he ever talk to you about his plans?”

“Well, sometimes he talked about finding a way out, and when he did how he’d set the record straight with the cop who set him up. I guess that’s you.”

“Did you ever smuggle anything in to him?”

“Look, look, I’m clean. Nine months clean, and I got a regular job. It may not seem like much to you, but I haven’t been clean, not really, since I was fifteen.”

“I’m not going to hassle you about it,” Eve told her. “But”—she tapped Julie’s photo again—“I need to know.”

“Okay, well, maybe, sometimes, I’d pass stuff to Stib, or to this guard—”

“Lovett?”

“If you already know why ask me?”

“What stuff?”

“Well, maybe, sometimes, some kiddie porn. He had a weakness, who was I to judge?”

“Is that all?”

“Maybe electronic stuff.”

“Such as?”

“I don’t know—hand to God—I don’t know much about that shit. He’d give me lists, and I’d go get it. Even paid for it mostly. Prick! He said how electronics was a hobby, and they wouldn’t let him have the stuff he wanted inside. I mean, what was the harm? He was so nice. He called me baby doll. Nobody ever called me baby doll. And he sent me flowers. Twice.”

“A real romantic.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I thought.” Slumping, she sulked into her coffee. “Then he gave me the boot, and now you’re saying he really did that to those kids. Maybe I should’ve known it, but I had those issues back then. You see things different when you’re clean.”

“If McQueen contacts you, contact me. If he comes to the door, don’t let him in. Alert nine-one-one and contact me.”

“You bet your ass I will.” She took Eve’s card.

“Do yourself a favor. Don’t contact Stibble.”

“I got zip to say to that son of a bitch. Jesus, I really liked the guy. Sick fuck.”

“Your take?” Eve asked Peabody as they headed back to the car.

“Same as yours. She was telling it straight. I don’t think McQueen’s given her a thought in the last two years. I can’t see him paying her a visit.”

“No, but the thought he might will have her telling us anything else she thinks of, and it confirmed Stibble as the liaison.”

“And we’ve got a lot more than zip to say to that son of a bitch.”

“Bet your ass.”

5

They found Stibble in a shoe-box storefront he used for addiction counseling. He looked, Eve decided, even more like a ferret in person than in his ID documents. The short, curly beard he sported didn’t do anything to soften his pointy chin, and the rosetinted shades on his short hook of a nose only added an element of silly.

Those, the skinny braid down the back of his white, hooded tunic, and the pair of leather bracelets around his bony ankles combined to fall somewhere between affected Free-Ager and urban monk.

Which, she supposed, was what he’d aimed for.

He sat with three people on the floor in a circle. Some sort of pyramid-shaped paperweight stood in the center. Harps and gongs trilled and bonged.

He paused, beamed a welcoming smile at Eve and Peabody.