Vendetta in Death (In Death #49)(63)

Anger, bitterness, Eve thought. That she could buy. And that didn’t jibe, to her mind, with the floods of grief.

5/60: More interactive, more easily offering support and sympathy to others. Stated, emotionally, the group, the other women have helped her find purpose again, find self again.

7/60: Am told confidentially by Una that Darla gifted her with several thousand dollars to assist Una in renting an apartment. Showing generosity and friendship, a willingness to offer a hand up.

12/60: Brought small gifts for the group for the holiday meeting. Seemed very upbeat—though expressed some concern re grandmother, who is feeling poorly. Left early.



And that was the last entry. Sitting back, Eve thought it through.

She could play it two ways. One, the group support, the healing time, and blah blah brought Darla out of her hole, helped her shake off the negative feelings, focus on the positive. Helped her bond with other women and lift herself back up to a productive life.

Or, as she put her shattered self back together, listening to the other women—the betrayals, abuse—she re-formed into something twisted. Began to see herself as a kind of champion—an avenger.

Finding her purpose.

“And nothing here, just nothing here to push that either way.”

She gathered her things, went back to the bullpen and Peabody’s desk.

“Whatever it is shut it down, or bring it with you to work as we go.”

“Where are we going?”

“To light a fire under Dickhead at the lab. I want to know what Pettigrew had under his toenails.”

Peabody scrambled up, grabbed her coat. “I’ve been crossing the names Jenkinson and Reineke got from Zula with McEnroy’s list of victims and targets.”

“And?” Eve said as they walked.

“Some matches—it’s just first names, so I expected to match some. I thought I’d reach out to Sylvia Brant at Perfect Placement, see if she’d give me full names on the matches. Go from there.”

“Good angle, do that.”

“Just me?”

“If there are more than ten, I’ll take half, otherwise you push this angle.”

“You don’t think it’s going anywhere.”

“It could. Definitely could,” Eve countered as she suffered through the confines of a crowded elevator. “We have two already crossed. On one hand, the odds would say it’s a long shot for another. But offices have gossip trains, and somebody else might have gotten on, tried the group after the two we know of left.”

“Because they’d have mentioned another if they knew another.”

“Right. So it’s worth looking.”

“What’s your angle?”

“I want that substance, then I need to think. Some of the women in that group filed police reports. Not all, not even close, but some did. So I’m going to see what I can dig into there. First names, reported crime or offense, what other information comes out of Zula’s notes. She lists their first attendance, so that gives a time frame. And I’ll push Zula for more if I need to.”

“Do you want me on that?”

“I’ve got Mira on it, actually. You take your angle. Work it here, or take it home.”

“You’re still looking at Darla Pettigrew,” Peabody commented as they—finally—pushed out into the garage.

“Just something there—and Zula’s notes didn’t make me think otherwise.” In the car, Eve paused a moment. “First vic—a rapist, a vicious, ugly son of a bitch who drugged, raped, and threatened women. Second vic—cheated on his wife, then ends up with the woman he cheated on her with. He likes to bang LCs. He manipulated—and we can even say cheated—the ex out of a lot of money. But he doesn’t reach the level of vicious and ugly that McEnroy does. So why is he next on her list? Why is his torture more violent?”

“Okay. You’re going with it was personal because it was Darla.” Peabody considered as Eve drove out of the garage. “But it could just be timing. He was next because she could get to him next. And the level of violence is characteristic escalation. Especially since there was no lull between.”

“Also true,” Eve admitted. “All of it.”

“And it could be the level of the crime or sin or offense—however she looks at it—isn’t the point. It’s all the same to her.”

Eve frowned over that. “That’s good.” Though she hated to admit it. “That could be true.” Still, she picked at it. “And it may be the timing goes to, yeah, who she can get to—and who she felt closest to in the group. Who she felt deserved or needed her brand of justice most. That’s something to add in there.”

“Maybe Natalia Zula would have some insight. Who she feels clicked, or made friends—maybe on the outside. Lester said some of them met for coffee or whatever.”

“Yeah. We’ll look there, or have Mira work with Zula there. Two good angles in a row, Peabody.”

“Woot.” Then she sighed. “I wish I didn’t get this feeling like something was off with Darla Pettigrew, too. I don’t know if I got it on my own or if I picked it up from you.”

“Right now, let’s play the angles.”

When they walked into the lab, the white-coated lab nerds worked busily at their counters, at their stations, inside their glass-walled rooms. Eve headed straight for chief lab tech Dick Berenski—not so affectionately known as Dickhead.