Abandoned in Death (In Death, #54)(101)

Very, very thorough, she thought.

He’d taken photos of them as they slept in captivity, photos of the tattoo he’d replicated—included precise measurements of the butterfly, the colors of inks used.

He noted down what they’d eaten and when, what drugs he’d given them and when.

And he’d taken more photos after he’d killed them, cleaned them, dressed them, styled their hair and face. Included a list of the products, the wardrobe chosen for each.

“Cops should avoid terms like slam dunk,” Peabody commented. “But.”

Eve just nodded. “Numbers instead of names. And it looks like he worked in groups of three. He had four, five, and six lined up.” She moved closer. “And he had four ready to go. See this? He completed his research, had his plan for number four. He planned to grab her tonight.”

She moved across the room, bypassing, for now, the workstation and electronics for the board devoted to Lisa McKinney/Violet Fletcher.

“Got her mug shot, the stripper ad. Date of birth, all family connections. The date she disappeared. Clippings of her wedding to Joseph, and plenty of others through the years. Charity work, garden clubs. Birth announcements—and you can see he’s documented Violet’s three children over the years. He’d have gone after them eventually.”

She turned back to the victim board. “If one of them suited him, or well enough, if one of them worked, he could shift his focus to his mother’s other kids. She should never have had them. They got her, and that big house, the good life.”

As she took another turn around the room, Roarke watched her face.

“The lieutenant’s considering another angle of approach on your slam dunk.”

“Yeah, I am. Look at this—and tag Baxter, Peabody, I want him and Trueheart in here to help Reineke and the e-team. We’re going to go over every inch of this place. But look at it. The precision, the details, the focus, the skill. Timelines. He’s even got the patrols, the beat cops assigned to the area he hunted. I’m betting everything he purchases—the clothes, the makeup, everything—is logged on that comp. The where he got every item, the cost, the date of purchase.”

She turned to Roarke. “I’m going to have his electronics from the lab brought in, and every single device from this house. Maybe you want to give Feeney a hand with all that.”

“I would, yes. An entertaining evening for me, I expect.”

“Yeah, a geek party.”

“Sorry, boss.” Reineke stepped in. “We got a safe in the bedroom back here, the one Dawber used. Feeney said Roarke could probably get into it quicker than he could.”

“More fun for me.”

“The other thing. Guy’s got Spider-Man pajamas. Four pairs of Spider-Man pajamas.”

“Spider-Man?”

“You know, Loo, the Amazing Spider-Man. Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

“I know who it is because—” She jerked a thumb at Roarke. “Kid size?”

“Nope. For himself.”

“According to the police report, that’s what he was wearing when they found him.”

“Bowlful of nuts,” Reineke said as he went out again.

Roarke gave Eve a light rub on the shoulder. “I’ll go have my fun.”

“Do that. I want to get to Covino, get her statement so we can send her home.”

“Let me know when you leave. I’ll stick with Feeney and company.”

Eve nodded absently as Roarke left the room.

“Maybe we give Dawber a round tonight. I want Mira in the box with us on this one. We’ll keep Reo on tap, but I don’t think we’ll need her right off.”

“Because?” Peabody wondered.

“Is he going to lawyer up? We’ll see. But look how smart he is—how smart he thinks he is. How careful, how attentive to details. I’m betting we find contingency plans on the comps. Plan A goes wrong—not because he screwed up, not that, because it’s never going to be his fault—but the target changed some element on the target date. He’d factor the variables.”

“Okay.”

“Jesus, Peabody, open up.” Eve gestured to encompass the room. “So he’s crazy, and he’s got some nasty little five-year-old demon inside him. But you can’t look at all this and conclude he doesn’t know right from wrong. Insanity defense? That’s a legal deal, and we’re going to rip that to shreds with all this. He knew exactly what he was doing, how he intended to do it. He had six women—so far—as targets, and disposed of them when they didn’t fit his criteria.

“The why he did it? Yeah, that’s the crazy. But it’s not going to be enough, even if the shrinks and the courts give him the insanity, we’re going to make damn sure he’s held responsible. No five or ten years of treatment and therapy, and he’s all good to go again.”

She saw her way, saw some angles. “Let’s go talk to Covino.”

As they started out, Jamie came running, an evidence bag in his hand.

“Man oh man, Roarke cut through that safe like a katana. Just swipe, slash. I gotta learn how to do that.”

Ignoring the intern’s dazzle over the skills of a former thief, Eve pointed to the bag. “Is that for me?”

“Reineke said to get it to you asap. It’s a letter from Dawber’s bio mom, dated a couple days before she self-terminated. Bunch of paperwork and docs in there, too. Deed to the house, bank accounts, tax stuff. He said they’ll bring it in, but you’d want this now.”