Abandoned in Death (In Death, #54)(59)

A rug that looked old and valuable lay over the polished floors.

Mosebly gestured to the chairs, then took a seat on the end of the sofa.

“I’d so hoped you’d found her. I know how hard you’re working to do just that. I hadn’t read The Icove Agenda—so distressing—but after meeting you today, I downloaded it. I’ve only just begun, really, but I understand you’re very good at your work. How can I help?”

“You and Mary Kate are close.”

“Yes, we’re a close-knit group at Dowell’s. It makes it a pleasure to go to work every day.”

“And you often took her, and others, out socially—to celebrate, for instance, a successful campaign.”

“That’s right. Team leaders often do, and we try to gather socially as a full team—the Dowell team.”

“I wonder if you brought Mary Kate, or others, to venues here, in this neighborhood, for those social interactions.”

“Yes, now and then.”

“Here, to your home?”

“Yes. No point in having a home you enjoy and not sharing it.”

Eve took out her ’link, brought up Elder’s photo ID.

“Do you know this woman?”

He took the ’link, frowned over it a moment, then let out a gasp. “This is the young woman who was killed. I saw the reports, saw this photo. It was so upsetting, I turned it off.”

“Have you ever seen her before the reports?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Have you ever been in Arnold’s—it’s a bar in the neighborhood.”

“Yes, I know it. A few times, but it’s a little … stiff, I want to say.”

Eve took the ’link back, brought up Hobe.

“How about this woman?”

“I don’t know that I’ve— Oh yes! Yes, I recognize her. Mike’s Place, such a good voice. Anne, Annie?”

“Anna.”

“That’s it. I’ve dragged a lot of people onto the stage at Mike’s.” He smiled at the thought. “That isn’t a stiff sort of place, and more the sort I’d take a team for fun.”

“Anna Hobe has been missing for seven days.”

“What?” He jerked back. “No! Like Mary Kate?”

“You haven’t been in Mike’s in the last week?”

“No, no, not for a couple of weeks, at least. We were working on the campaign, and I brought work home. What does this mean? The first girl…”

His color went nearly as gray as his hair.

“Oh my God, you think that could happen to Mary Kate?”

“All three of these women live within blocks of here. You’ve lived here for a number of years. I’m sure people are used to seeing you, think nothing of it. You have a nice view of the street from those windows.”

He still held the ’link, and his hand shook as he stared at her.

“You think I … I’m a suspect? Why would I … I could never … I—I need a glass of water.”

“Why don’t I get that for you?” Roarke rose.

“I— Thank you. Ah, the kitchen…”

“I’ll find it.”

Mosebly closed his eyes when Roarke walked away. His rapid breathing worried Eve a little. She sure as hell didn’t need a panic attack or a heart event on her hands.

“I’ve never hurt another person in my life.” Mosebly hitched in a couple more breaths, let them out. “I avoid conflicts, to be honest. And hard news when possible. I would never harm Mary Kate. I love her.”

“Tell me about your mother.”

His eyes popped open. “My mother?”

“Yes.”

“She—she died last February after a long, difficult illness. I don’t understand what—”

“You loved her, too.”

“Of course. She was my mother.”

“She lived with you here for several years.”

“Yes. I convinced her to come to New York and live with me after my father died. I don’t know what this has to do with anything, but if it somehow helps…”

“You left home fairly young, and there are some gaps in the first couple of years after you came to New York. Can you fill those in?”

He closed his eyes again. “We can never escape them, can we? Never really escape the sins of the past.”

He looked at Eve again, and she saw sorrow, not guilt, not fear. He shifted when Roarke came back with a glass of water. Taking it, he handed Roarke Eve’s ’link.

He drank slowly before setting the glass down on the table.

“I’m gay,” he said simply.

“Okay. That has no bearing on—”

“You wanted the gaps filled. It’s unremarkable to you, my sexual orientation, but it was anything but when I was growing up, a PK in rural Kentucky.”

“PK?”

“Preacher’s kid. All those years ago, Lieutenant, if you know anything of history, you understand homosexuality wasn’t widely accepted. In that time, in that place, I was an aberration, a sin, a freak. I stayed closeted—my shame, my instinct to avoid confrontations. When I finally screwed up the courage to tell my parents, they were shocked, hurt, and couldn’t accept me or support me. My father…”