Vendetta in Death (In Death #49)(35)

Eve ran the vid through to the end, tuned back in when McEnroy told Rowan to get dressed—and run along now like a good girl. She looked used and confused, but wiggled back into the sparkly club dress. She nodded, eyes vague, when he told her where to walk—away from the hotel, Eve noted—to take the subway back to the club.

When she stumbled out, he picked up his ’link.

“Text to Geena. Hello, darling! I’m about to escape from this tedious meeting. I should be home within the hour. Let’s raid the kitchen, shall we, for a midnight snack. I’m famished! See you soon.”

He set the ’link aside, glanced—smirking—toward the camera.

“Camera off.”

She cued up the next.

By the time Roarke walked in, she’d reviewed six, identified the victims.

After a look at her face, he walked over to open the wine cabinet.

“I’m working.”

He said nothing, simply opened the bottle, poured two glasses.

“How many more do you have to view?”

“Too many.”

He set her wine on her command center. “I have the data for you. Why don’t I take some of the vids, run the face recognition and so forth.”

“I can’t. It’s not right.” She gave up, picked up the wine. “It’s not right to let a civilian view them, even you. These women, their privacy—well, that’s pretty much shot to shit already. But it’s not right.”

With a nod, he turned to her board. “What can I do?”

“He humiliates them.” She took a long swallow of wine. “It’s not just his ugly sexual gratification that gets him off, it’s humiliating them.”

“Of course it is. If it was just to get off, he could and would hire a professional. He could engage a licensed companion who fits his needs. But that would put her on an equal footing, as that’s a kind of partnership.”

He turned back to her. “What can I do?” he asked again.

“You could take the six I’ve ID’d, run them. Check travel, employment, if they live alone, have a spouse or cohab. You can take it down a level, see if any of them have medical—a physical issue, an emotional one—after the date of the attack. It’s a goddamn attack.”

“It is, yes.”

“She worked with somebody,” Eve muttered. “It’s damn near impossible to believe a lone woman pulled this off. She got him in a vehicle—who was driving? Could she trust using full auto? She brought him back to his residence, got him out on the sidewalk. Doing that alone? I don’t buy it. Who is she close to—another victim, a sister, a spouse, a father, a brother? Someone she trusts.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when I look at them. Send them along.”

“Roarke.” She sighed, realized she didn’t know what she wanted to say. “I appreciate it.”

She set the wine aside, cued up the next vid.

While Eve worked, so did Lady Justice.

Once a cheater, she thought as she again checked her appearance. This time she’d chosen a short, spiky wig, a honey blond tipped with sapphire blue. Her eyes matched the tips, as did the skin suit that dipped down nearly to her navel. She’d taken the time—quite a bit of time—to tint her skin in a color called Mocha Riche. She wore an appliance that gave her an overbite and a product that plumped her lips before she dyed them Rebellious Red. Her boots had scalpel-thin heels and lifts.

Thaddeus, she thought, liked tall ones.

She had to stop a moment, sit a moment, as even thinking his name enraged her. After composing herself, she ordered her droid to bring the car around. Before she left, she checked her beloved Grand on the monitor.

Fast asleep, with the medical droid on alert.

It had been child’s play to hack into Thaddeus Pettigrew’s ’link. The only glitch had been a change in schedule. The whore he lived with had left a day early, so the cheater had booked another whore for tonight. Not tomorrow night as expected.

Still, easy enough to change her own plans, to cancel the paid whore and take her place.

Maybe her hands shook a little on the drive, but she wouldn’t fail. Hadn’t she already proven she could follow through?

She had the droid drop her out front. And Thaddeus, a creature of habit, would have disabled the security cams—in case his live-in whore decided to check on him.

Any nosy neighbors would see what she wanted them to see.

When he came to the door of the brownstone, her heart actively fluttered.

“Good evening, Thaddeus.” She made her voice a gravelly purr. “I’m Angelique.”

She offered her hand, and when he took it, smiling—oh so charming—she pumped the drug into his palm from the mini syringe in hers.

“Please, come in.”

“I’d love to.” She watched his face go slack. “But I have a car waiting. Come with me. I have such an amazing evening planned for us.”

“With you?” he said, biddable.

“Close the door, Thaddeus.”

He obeyed, walked to the car with her. Inside, as the droid drove back uptown, she handed Thaddeus the wine she’d already dosed. “Drink up! It’s your favorite red.”

“Thank you. I feel a bit strange.”

“The wine will help.” She tipped it up, toward his mouth.