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

“And the night before?”

“With my daughter. We had dinner out, went to the vids. Then we came home and talked until almost midnight. She believes she’s in love. He seems a nice boy. I hope he is. She’s my world, Lieutenant. I can swear to you, I would do nothing that would hurt her. And if her mother took a life, she would be deeply hurt. Lost.”

With the faintest smile, Natalia turned around a framed photo to show Eve and Peabody a pretty girl with her mother’s eyes.

“My world,” she said again. “Her father left when she was only a baby. I came to America with my parents—they are doctors. They hoped I would follow that path, but I fell in love, and then there was Kendra. It hurt my heart when he left, but I had her. I had my world. And then there was a man, one I thought a good man. I let him into our lives. I learned, when my beautiful girl was just fifteen, he had … touched her. She was afraid to tell me at first, and I was blind. But when she did, finally did, I took her to a doctor. I took her to the police.”

“What happened to the man?”

“He’s in prison. And he will be for a long time more. He had pictures of my child he’d taken when she didn’t know. When she was in the shower, or in bed. I was here, but I didn’t see. He forced himself on my child, told her he would deny and I would believe, told her he would kill me. Told her many things. But he’s in prison now, and my girl is well. She trusted me, and we trusted the police. If ever I had it inside me to kill, he would be dead.”

Peabody rose, held out her PPC. “Do you recognize this woman?”

Natalia studied it, rose, took the PPC to the window to look at it in stronger light. “I think she’s very beautiful, but I don’t think I know her. I don’t think she comes to our group. I would say yes if I did. I wouldn’t give you more, but I would not lie.”

“I believe you. We’ll get the warrant. Have you shared your story in group?”

“Of course.” She lifted her ringless hands. “How can I ask for trust if I don’t trust? But he’s in prison.”

And justice was met, Eve thought.

“If you’d give my partner Mr. Fong’s contact information, we’ll verify.”

Natalia gave it, then rose. “I hope you’re wrong. I hope you find it’s no one who’s come into our circle.”

You can hope, Eve thought. But I’m not wrong.

She headed to the morgue next.

“Push for the warrant, Peabody,” she said as she drove. “First names only don’t give us much, but it’s better than nothing. And I want to talk to whoever booked Pettigrew’s LCs. Let’s see if he had a type.”

“On that. Do you want me to contact Zula’s alibi, see if it holds up?”

“Yeah, we’ll get to it. It’s going to.” When her ’link signaled, she answered through the in-dash. “Dallas.”

“This is Bondita Rothchild, Marcella’s mother. We’re en route to the city, and should be there within the hour.”

“All right, Ms. Rothchild, we’ll come to you.”

“I’m taking Marcella home with me. I don’t want her in that house.” She rattled off an address in Cobble Hill, which meant a trip across the river into Brooklyn.

“We’ll come to you,” Eve repeated. “About ninety minutes.”

“I’ll expect you to be respectful of Marcella’s delicate emotional state,” Bondita added before she clicked off.

Once they’d parked, started down the tunnel, Peabody checked her own ’link. “The warrant’s in the works.”

“See who’s loose in the bullpen. I’d rather a detective, but a uniform will do. Have them serve it, get the data.”

As they approached Morris’s doors, her comm signaled. “What now?” Then she read Commander Whitney on the readout, and had a pretty good idea what now. “Dallas. Sir.”

“Lieutenant. You’re needed in The Tower for a conversation with Chief Tibble.”

That proved a higher what now than she’d expected. “Commander, I’m in the field, currently at the morgue about to speak to Dr. Morris regarding Thaddeus Pettigrew, who all evidence indicates is the second victim in my current investigation. We also have an interview with Pettigrew’s live-in scheduled in ninety minutes.”

“Report to The Tower at thirteen hundred hours.”

“Yes, sir.” She stuffed her comm back in her pocket. “Geena McEnroy.”

“She went straight to the top,” Peabody commented. “At least we’ve got some time to interview Horowitz.”

“He didn’t send for you. You weren’t there for my interview with her anyway.”

“Uh-uh.” Peabody put her stubborn face on. “Partners. You have to risk an ass-frying, my ass is in the pan with yours.”

“I didn’t need the visual of your ass bumped up against mine in some damn pan. Ass partners,” she muttered, and pushed through the doors when Peabody snorted out a laugh.

Morris had one of his favored bluesy numbers going and wore a suit in forest green. Cord, stone gray like his tie, wound through the braid he’d doubled up at the back of his head in a loop.

He currently had his hands in Pettigrew’s open chest.