New York to Dallas by J. D. Robb

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