Abandoned in Death (In Death, #54)(29)

“I do.”

When they reached the kitchen area, McNab poured wine into disposable cups, and Leonardo mixed some sort of sparkling drink for Mavis.

“To welcoming friends who are family into our home.” Leonardo hauled Bella onto his hip, handed her a sippy cup.

“And when it’s finished,” Mavis continued, “Leonardo, Bella, Peabody, McNab, and me? We’re going to throw the mother of all parties.”

Eve watched Bella’s eyes go dreamy as she sucked on the little protrusion on the side of the cup. “What’s in that thing?”

“Water.” Leonardo nuzzled his girl. “With a vitamin fizzy tab.”

Conversation headed into tile samples, and choices of sinks, and, oddly to Eve, doorknobs. She didn’t object when Mavis tugged her outside.

“I know you gotta book it.”

“Yeah, but when you throw the mother of all parties, I’m going to use the power of my will to put a moratorium on all homicides, suicides, and suspicious deaths for one damn night.”

“Bet you will. Don’t worry about me, Dallas. I’m heading out tomorrow for a gig in Atlanta the next night. Security team’s with me,” she added. “And because he’s still a little freaked, Leonardo’s going, too.”

“I’m sorry I freaked him.”

“He freaks if I break a nail these days. My honey bear loves me. And don’t be sorry, it means Bella’s going so I don’t have to miss her for a couple of days. I’m going to miss this, though—the house, the crew, the big magalicious mess of it. I’m so into it. Who’da thought, right? But the gigs are part of why I have it to get so into. I feel abso-poso forking serene.”

She turned to Eve, beaming. “Another who’da thought.”

“It looks forking good on you.”

“Totally does.”

When Mavis wrapped an arm around Eve’s waist, Eve took the moment. And gave it.

When the moment passed, she left her friends with their tile samples and doorknobs.

Roarke drove home so she could check on any progress.

“No other witnesses popping up.” She frowned at her ’link. “We were lucky to hit on one with Hobe.”

“I take it Hobe’s the missing woman.”

“Yeah. We coordinated with the detective who caught the Lauren Elder case when she was reported missing. I had him and Peabody do searches for others in that age group, with that basic physical description.”

Because he invariably provided an exceptional sounding board, she went back to the beginning—the body on the bench of the playground—and caught him up.

“The Bad Mommy message. You held that back from the media.”

“Yeah.”

“And it’s key.”

“Has to be. I pulled Nadine, and she’s doing a deep dive to try to find the original.”

“Who you believe existed, and would’ve been in that age range, with that physical description, shortly after the turn of the century.”

“Due to fashion—how he dressed her, did her hair, makeup—according to Morris, Mira, and Peabody.”

“A long time to mourn, or hate, or obsess.”

“Yeah, it is.”

She watched a small group of tourists, announcing their status in matching I ? NEW YORK tees, gawking up at an airtram—and the street thief who slid through them like butter.

“By the time I stop, you get out, he’d be two blocks gone,” Roarke commented.

Eve looked back, noted he’d already turned a corner. “Yeah.

“They might as well wear shirts that say: I Heart Pickpockets. Anyway. Mira figures some sort of more recent psychic break. Mommy kicked it, or kicked him, or something just snapped.”

He wove his way through traffic—miserable traffic—with far more calm than she would have.

“And both women worked at bars—late shift. So you’d deduce the mother did as well.”

“It’s possible. Or their work, and the timing, made them easier to grab.”

“He had to look for them first, find candidates that suited his specific needs. But, at least for these two women, he didn’t look at other late shifts. Not at licensed companions, at any who work at twenty-four/sevens or building security or maintenance and so on. Which…” He glanced over at her. “You’ve factored in.”

“I factored it in, and deduce the probability the mother worked in a bar, or frequented them regularly, is high. It doesn’t get us closer to finding Anna Hobe before he kills her.”

“A handful of hours ago, no one knew Anna Hobe had been taken, was being held, by the same person who abducted, held, and killed Lauren Elder.”

“He held Elder for ten days before he killed her. He’s had Hobe for seven already.”

Coming fast up on eight, Eve thought.

“He left Elder where we’d find her, and quickly. He has a vehicle. He could have taken the body out of the city, buried her. He has somewhere private enough to hold women. He could have dismembered her, dumped her in a tub of lye. Shit, weighed her down and dumped her in the river. All kinds of ways to dispose of her, to at least stretch out the time between killing and discovery. But he didn’t.

“He wanted us to find her. Wanted to see the media reports.”