Vendetta in Death (In Death #49)(71)

“Oh.” Distress rippled over her face. She ran a hand over the hair still drawn back in a tail. “That’s confidential.”

“Not anymore. I need the full name of the recipient.”

“Lieutenant, the entire framework of the group is built on mutual trust. And I don’t see that helping a—an acquaintance applies to this awful thing.”

“Two men connected to women in the group are dead. It applies. From what I’ve already learned, Una needed financial assistance to rent an apartment for herself and her young son.”

“He beat her!” Fury spiked, hot and fast. “She was living in a shelter.”

“Did she go to the police?”

Darla shut her eyes, and when she opened them, sorrow lived in them. But Eve had seen that fury, that fire.

“No, at least not the last I heard. He said he’d kill the boy if she did. She’d gotten a restraining order months before, for all the good it did. She was terrified. I can’t—I can’t talk to you about her private business. It’s not right.”

“Do you want your ex-husband’s killer brought to justice?”

“I—of course I do!”

“Give me her name before someone else dies.”

“You put me in a terrible position.”

“Let’s try this. Where did you transfer the money?”

As she pressed a hand to the side of her face, Darla’s eyes watered up again. “Oh God, how is that not just as bad? I wanted, I just wanted to do something good, something positive. I wanted to end a period of my life where I’d spent so much time wallowing in bitterness and self-pity into something positive.”

“And you did.”

Eve heard Eloise’s voice, saw Darla turn her head, watched her tears spill over. “Oh, Grand.”

“Tell Lieutenant Dallas what she needs to know, Darla. It’s the right thing, and your friend will understand that. Do the right thing, sweetie.”

“Nothing feels right.” Darla closed her eyes again, drew a breath. “She was trying to scrape together enough money for an apartment so she and her little boy could move out of the shelter. She’d gotten a job, but she just didn’t have enough. I paid the security deposit and first and last month’s rent, to give her a start, a chance. A place downtown. I honestly can’t remember the address. I’d have to look up the transfer.”

“Her name. I’ll find her.”

“It feels wrong,” Darla countered. “Una Kagen. Her little boy’s Sam. She’d never hurt anyone.”

“It’s imperative we contact members of the group. Do you have any other names?”

Darla began to rub the spot between her eyebrows. “I had coffee a few times after the meetings with Una and Rachel—they were close in age, both single mothers, and became friends. Una would know her full name. I think she’s the one who helped Una find the apartment. It was in Rachel’s building if I remember right.”

“Okay, that’s helpful. Thank you.”

“Please, Lieutenant, these women have already been through so much.”

“And I’ll do my best to prevent them from going through more. Thank you again.”

“She took back her maiden name,” Roarke said when Eve ended the transmission. “She’s Una Ruzaki since the divorce finalized in February. Hold a moment,” he added, as he continued to work his PPC. “There’s a Rachel Fassley at the same address. One marriage, widowed, one son, age six.”

“You keep being handy.”

“My mission in life. Are we having a trip downtown?”

“It’s always better to deal face-to-face. I’m going to say, first, you don’t have to go with me. Second, a man might skew things. But third, it’d be good to have someone else’s impressions, especially if I can get to both of them. And when you put on Charming Roarke, it usually skews to the positive.”

“It’s easy, darling.” He swept a fingertip down her cheek. “Charming’s my default.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. You drive,” she added as they started out. “I want to look into the restraining order.”

When they got outside, she studied the vehicle he’d ordered out of the garage. Sleek, shiny, and cherry red, with doors that opened up in an arch rather than out.

“What is this?”

“New,” Roarke said easily and got behind the wheel.

Inside, the dash looked like the pilot’s cabin of a luxury off-planet shuttle. “How many vehicles do you need?”

He answered smooth as cream, “I’ve yet to find out.”

When the engine gave a throaty roar, when they flew along the driveway, she wished she’d taken the wheel.

Next time.

She spent her time on her PPC. “TRO against Arlo Kagen, age thirty-one, granted to Una Kagen. We’ve got a history of domestic disturbance reports spanning three years prior. Kagen did three months for misdemeanor assault—out in ninety days with probation, mandatory anger management. Bullshit. Guy’s got a serious drinking issue—it’s clear from what’s on the reports. Tunes up the wife or goes on a rampage. She filed for divorce, got the TRO, and he went at her again. Charges dismissed there, as he claimed she went at him—and they both had injuries.”