Abandoned in Death (In Death, #54)(67)

“I think there’s more bruising, deeper lacerations on her wrist than on Elder.”

“Yes, there is. Why do you think?”

“Maybe she struggled more. I think…” Peabody took microgoggles out of her field bag. “It looks to me like the more are fresher. Like she started struggling more in the last day or so.”

“Why do you think?”

Peabody sat back on her heels. “She might’ve figured out she wasn’t getting out alive unless she got herself out.”

“That, or she and Covino figured how to communicate. Hope tends to make you fight harder. Or she saw some way to get out. Could be any or all of that.”

“Should I contact the morgue, the sweepers?”

“I did on the way here. Gave Morris the heads-up. See this? The skirt, the shoes? Just a little big on her, where the jeans and the shoes were a little snug on Elder. He gets close though. He gets close.

“Stay with her. I need to go have a word with the mother of the nine-one-one caller. Lives right down there.”

“Okay. His mother?”

“He’s about sixteen, snuck out to have a bang-o-rama with his girlfriend. But he called it in and stayed with her, so I’m going to have a word with his mother.”

She rose and spotted McNab and Roarke leaning against her ride drinking coffee.

“Dallas, I’m here to serve.”

“No e’s on her,” she told McNab as she locked her field kit in the trunk. “There’s a door cam, but he’s going to be smart enough to have jammed it. Still, get whoever runs this place down here to open up and let you check the feed.”

“You got it.”

“I need to talk to the wit’s mother a minute.”

Roarke pushed off the car. “I’ll walk down with you.”

He didn’t take her hand for comfort—she wouldn’t want it. But as they walked down the block, he glanced down at her.

“Is there a point in me reminding you that you did all you could?”

“Wasn’t enough.” She shook her head. “And I know doing all you can isn’t always enough. Can’t be. I just feel I went in the wrong direction with Mosebly, and ate up that time.”

“You didn’t. You eliminated him, as you needed to.”

“I did. You’re right. You have to look at it straight on and, when I did, I knew if he upped his schedule by even one damn day, we wouldn’t have enough time. He did. We didn’t.”

She turned to look back down the street at the scene. The dead wagon pulled up. A couple of people poked their heads out of their doors to watch.

“Just outside the patrol area. Is that bad luck for me, or smart planning for him? Anyway, I’m going to go into Central when I’m done here.”

“I’ve a car coming.”

“Figured you would. Shit, you were running that search overnight.”

“And I’ll send you the results.”

She took another moment. “Wow, it’s like—how do you say it?—about half-five. Well heading toward six now. I bet you missed buying a whole chunk of the universe already this morning.”

“The lovely thing about the universe is, it’s still there. Take care of my cop,” he said as an elegant black sedan slid to the curb. “And feed her.”

“Right. Sure.”

He walked to the car, and she walked to Kylo’s door.

Ten minutes later, Eve walked back to the crime scene with a fat, still-warm blueberry muffin.

McNab stood jawing with one of the sweepers who must have rolled up while she’d been inside.

“I got to the director,” he began, then sniffed the air. “Is there a bakery?”

“No.” She’d already known this was coming, so split the muffin in three parts. “Apparently the wit’s mother makes them on the weekends, stocks the AC, so her boys don’t starve to death in the mornings.”

“Thanks. Good,” he said as he popped his third into his mouth. “Director’s coming in. She’s all whacked about having a body in front of the place. You know, kids.”

Eve nodded to where Peabody talked to the morgue team. “It won’t be here long.”

She popped her own share, and McNab was right. Good. “Let me know if the gods smile on us and there’s anything on the feed.”

“Old cam, not much range, and an easy jam. But you never know.”

Eve walked to Peabody, handed off the last of the muffin.

She spoke with the head sweeper, the dead-wagon driver, and had a word with the two uniforms when they came out of a neighboring building.

So far, the gods hadn’t smiled enough to land a witness in her lap.

“He dumped her after midnight and before zero-four hundred,” Eve said as she got in the car. “I’m putting the probability at closer to the four hundred than midnight. It took time to clean her up, dress and make her up. Plus, you aim for somewhere around three in the morning, most bars have closed, most people who hang for last call or work closing shift are home by then. In bed by then.”

“You’re still risking an insomniac, somebody with a kid or baby who’s having a rough night. Or somebody like the nine-one-one caller, heading home after a let’s-bang session.”