Desperation in Death (In Death #55)(54)

“Haven’t we though?” He laughed, then leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Adds the spice, doesn’t it? Smooth gets boring after a while, and I do enjoy the spice. And the hall matron? The medical?”

“Both terminated. I won’t tolerate that sort of incompetence on staff.”

“I told you investing in the crematorium would pay for itself, and more.”

“You did. I should always leave the investment decisions in your hands. I have a candidate for the medical position. We’re screening and vetting her now.”

“And I leave the staffing decisions to you. Which reminds me, I’m ready to trade in Athena. No fault of hers, really, but she’s becoming a bit of a bore. It’s time for a change there.”

“Of course. I’ll need to check the records, but she’s … about twenty-five, twenty-six now?”

He didn’t have a taste for the Kiddies or Chicklets, she thought as she tried to form a mental picture of his current sex slave.

“You’d know better than I.”

“I’ll take a look at her before I leave, get an estimate of value in a trade. Tell me what you’re looking for as a replacement.”

“Oh, perhaps something a bit more interesting. Something with some of that spice.”

“I’ll check the market. With the auction coming up, we can work a deal, especially since you prefer the experienced, slightly older type.”

“Send me one to try out.” He patted her hand. “Let’s go into dinner. I’m famished.”



* * *



Eve added more girls to the pattern. When she hit twenty, she started a second board and transferred all of them there.

She shifted regions and began again.

She was about to get up, just walk off the sitting, when her ’link signaled.

Willowby.

“Dallas. What have you got?”

“I’ve been cruising the dregs. EDD deepened my cover, so I moved up a few slots. I’m getting some chatter about an auction, a major one, multiple sellers. And a couple of them did some previews, like advanced marketing.”

“Do you have faces?”

“A few. Like I said, a preview. I’ve got two—so far—in our age group. One Chicklet, and one Ripe. Ripe’s like fifteen to twenty, maybe twenty-two, depending. One Full Flower—those usually go up to maybe thirty, usually for trades or a tagalong. Ripe and Full Flower go as Breeders, depending.”

Jesus, Eve thought, but only nodded. “Let’s see the ones from our age range. Let’s start there. I’ve got twenty-odd potentials. Maybe we’ll get a match.”

“Sending now. Can you send me yours? I can look out for them as the marketing gears up.”

“Yeah.”

When they exchanged data, Eve studied the photos on her screen.

“The second girl—the blonde,” Eve said. “They changed her hair—cut it, dyed it. But I’ve got her. Jaci—J-a-c-i—Collinsworth, age twelve, Detroit, missing since April. The first one hasn’t popped for me yet, but I’ll run her through.”

“Got it, I’ll pull her file and dig in.”

“When’s the auction?”

“We’ve got three days. If I can work it, I’ll get some shipping, transfer, and/or delivery locations. Problem there is, a winning bidder gets a special code sent to their comp to access that data. We can spread it out, bid on some, but we’re never going to get them all that way. Most of these buyers are going to be plenty rich and plenty savvy, so they’ll get around CompuGuard like it was nothing. It ain’t that much anyway.

“We can bust some of the dumbasses, but what we’re after? They’re not going to sell to the dumbasses.”

“Let me think about that.” Eve glanced toward Roarke’s office, then glanced at the time. “Pretty late, Willowby.”

“Is it? I guess. Or it’s considered late if I had anything resembling a social life. Which, at the moment, I don’t. More, I want to get these fuckers, Lieutenant.”

“We’re going to. Lots of little cracks now, and little cracks make big breaks. Keep in touch.”

“Count on it.”

Eve sat, studying Jaci’s photo.

“Did those bastards bring you in from Detroit, or did you get scooped up by some other asshole? Cut your hair, made you a blonde, painted you up so they can sell you to the highest bidder.

“We’ll fucking see about that.”

“Eve.”

“Jesus! Make some noise!”

He’d come up behind her, and now laid his hands on her shoulders, rubbed at the knots.

“All of those?” He nodded at the new board.

“Yeah, going with the pattern. The one on-screen? Willowby got wind of an upcoming auction, and she’s one of the previews. I had her, so we matched her.”

He kept rubbing, felt her give a bit under his hands. “I have roughly eighty properties that hit the highest probability. Another twenty or so that skim just under.”

“Still a lot, but more workable. Send them to me, okay?”

“I will. One hour more. It’s near to midnight now.”

“Willowby said three days. We find Gregg, pinpoint the location, bust down this auction, or Christ knows how many get sold. This kid, this one who played softball and the piano, sure as hell will be.”