Desperation in Death (In Death #55)(22)

Now she looked down at her son again, then took a long breath. “They were grooming her. Whoever took her, they were grooming her, for trafficking, for sexual slavery.”

“Why would they want her in traffic?”

Oliver rubbed Ethan’s arm. “It’s not that kind of traffic, baby. Don’t interrupt now.”

“We’re working on that possibility,” Eve told them.

“Could I see the photo of the other girl again?” Rae asked. Then nodded when Eve showed her. “Yes, she’s striking, isn’t she? A strikingly pretty girl, like Mina. You haven’t found this girl?”

“Not yet.”

“Why do you think she and Mina were together when Mina was killed?”

“We’re not going to share certain details with you at this time, but we believe she was.”

“Maybe they were friends, Mom. Mina liked her girlfriends. She talked to them all the time.”

“Yes, maybe they were friends. Maybe she wasn’t alone.”

Eve stayed where she was after Peabody escorted them out. They’d held up better than she’d expected. She could be grateful for that, just as she was for the opportunity to see and judge the family dynamic.

Close, tight, but not smothering.

Peabody came back with tubes of Pepsi and Diet Pepsi. “I didn’t program your coffee into the AC in here.”

“This is fine, thanks.”

“They’re going to stay, at least a day or two. They’re going to visit the spot where we found her body.”

“Did they tell you that?”

“They didn’t have to.”

Nodding, Eve cracked the tube. “The possibility Mina ran or got into a vehicle with someone was always low. It’s now below zero for me. She didn’t run from that, from them, and everything says she had too many smarts to climb into a ride. The mother? She’s smart, sharp, and observant.”

“She knows her kids.”

“That’s right. The underwear, the manicure—not a choice. Adds weight.”

She pushed up, drank from the tube as she paced. “Roarke’s asking the Miras over for dinner tonight.”

“Oh. Nice.”

Eve shook her head. “Working dinner—consult dinner. I don’t much like the combination, but it got away from me. He got away from me. He keeps popping up here at Central unexpectedly lately. Have you noticed that?”

“Well, not really, but I guess.”

“Projects, meetings.” Eve waved a hand in the air. “Whatever. Bad timing on this. He’s decided he has to worry about me given the circumstances.”

Peabody followed the dots. “Hard to blame him.”

“Not for me it’s not. He—” She broke off when her comm signaled. “Looks like the caseworker got here a little early.”

“I’ll go bring her back.” Peabody stood. “You know, my mom’s pretty smart.”

“Scary about it,” Eve agreed.

“She’s proud of me. She and my dad didn’t really want me to be a cop, much less in New York, but they let me choose, and they’re proud of me. But she worries, and I know it. She says worrying is part of loving.

“So. I’ll bring Truman back.”

“He’s not my mother,” Eve pointed out as Peabody walked from the room.

“But he loves you.”

Yeah, yeah, she thought, then put it away.

She sat, started reviewing the file she had on Dorian as Peabody brought the caseworker in.

Pru Truman looked like a human rag that had been wrung dry too many times and tossed aside. Pale and bony in what even Eve’s unfashionable eye noted as an ugly suit, she clutched an ancient briefcase and kept her thin mouth pursed tight.

If Eve hadn’t skimmed her data, she’d have gauged the woman as early sixties. But her bio claimed a decade younger.

“I’m Lieutenant Dallas. Thanks for coming in, Ms. Truman. Have a seat.”

“Can I get you coffee?” Peabody asked her. “A soft drink?”

“I don’t consume caffeine, faux or otherwise. Still water, please.”

Because she found herself taking an instant dislike, Eve took a slow sip of her Pepsi.

“This is all very inconvenient,” Truman began.

“What’s that?”

“Being obligated to come all the way into New York. I had to reschedule several appointments.”

“I have a thirteen-year-old girl who’ll never have to worry about appointments again, seeing as she’s dead.”

“This unfortunate girl wasn’t one of my charges.”

“Dorian Gregg is.”

“Yes.” Truman reached into the briefcase, took out a disc file. “I have all my files on minor female Gregg, going back nearly five years. As you’ll see, I conducted numerous home visits over that length of time, arranged meetings and interviews with the teachers in her schools. I recommended, I believe you’ll find three years ago, for the custodial parent to attend and complete an addiction program, which she did.”

“You did all that?” Eve said, very pleasantly. “Oddly, we found a number of illegal substances in Jewell Gregg’s apartment, along with cheap wine and brew.”