Faithless in Death (In Death, #52)(89)

“And Larry—the fuck? He washed up in the kitchen sink—they know that because the cleaners polished that up, including the drain. But when he changed his clothes, the blood on the old ones, just a trace, transferred when he brushed against the bedroom closet door. Inside the door. Cleaners missed it.”

“Our guys are better than theirs,” Peabody said.

“Damn straight. No sightings of his vehicle from the APB I put out. He’s in that compound.”

“We sure as hell have probable cause to look for him there.”

“And we will. I need to check with Carmichael and Shelby.”

Cops started to filter in while Eve walked back into the hall, checked in. And took time to speak to Shelby, ask a few more questions.

She broke it off when she saw Whitney heading her way with a fed she knew, with one she didn’t.

“Commander, Special Agent Teasdale.”

“Lieutenant. I look forward to working with you again. This is Special Agent Conroy. He’s well versed on Natural Order.”

“Tony Quirk is a friend of mine.” A well-built man in his early forties, Conroy held out a hand. “We worked on Natural Order the last two years. He went in, as I’m mixed race and wouldn’t qualify.”

“I’ve read your reports, and his. I want to say that the murder of Ariel Byrd has blown this open.”

“I hope to hell we can close it, and it’s not too late for Tony.”

“We’ve gathered considerable information just in the last few hours. We’re going to close it. If Special Agent Quirk is alive, we’ll find him. We’re waiting for EDD. APA Reo will join when she’s finished interviewing two new witnesses. A police artist is also working with those witnesses. I haven’t had time to write this up. It’s moving fast.”

“I’ll take you in,” Whitney said to the agents. “We’ll get some coffee.”

“I’ll be in shortly, Commander. I’ve got a communication coming in. Dallas. What’ve you got?”

“A damn good wit,” Yancy told her. “We’ve got the recruiter—Gina said she’d never forget, and she didn’t. I got good enough for facial rec, and we’ve got her.”

“Show me.”

When he did, she just nodded.

“You don’t look surprised.”

“I’m not, but you just nailed it shut. I need to start the briefing, but I need you to finish there, get all you can. I’ll read you in when you get here. You’re in this, Yancy, all the way.”

“Understood, and I’m good here until it’s done.”

She needed Mira, she thought. And even as she thought it, Mira hurried down the corridor in her perfect pale blue suit, pale blue heels with their blue-and-white needles.

“I’m so sorry. Traffic.”

“You’re fine. I’m waiting on EDD, and any other data that comes through in the next two minutes.”

“Eve, you look exhausted.”

It surprised more than irritated because she felt revved. “No, I’m good.”

“There are shadows under the shadows under your eyes.”

“I’m good,” she repeated. “Here’s Feeney and Roarke. Get a seat, and we’ll get this started.”

“I got McNab and Callendar in the lab,” Feeney said, brisk now. “I put them on the Dawber e’s. They already hit on what’s listed as potentials. Women, Dallas. Girls—sixteen to twenty. Either in college or in trouble. Halfway houses, college campuses, foster homes, street kids. He’s got a list of those he refers to as recruits.”

“And names of finders—they call them finders,” Roarke said in disgust. “Jane Po’s on there in the New York system.”

“This is good, this is perfect. Be ready to brief on that.”

“He needs to go into a very cold cage for putting that shocker on a child.”

“We’re going to put him in one,” Eve assured Roarke. “We’re going to put a whole bunch of them there. Go get a seat, get coffee. I just need a minute to organize my thoughts.”

When she’d had her minute, she walked in. Cops milled, drank coffee, studied the board.

So many places to start, she thought, but she looked at the board. She knew where, who, and why.

“Take a seat,” she ordered. “This is going to be long. Ariel Byrd. This didn’t start with her, but her murder is the turning point. We’re going to get justice for her, and when we do, we’re going to take down not just her killer, but the culture that fostered it.”

She took them through the murder, Gwen Huffman, the Natural Order connection. From there she wound her way to the block in Tribeca, the missing brother, before asking the feds to brief on the missing agent.

Baxter’s comm signaled at the end of that portion.

“Sorry, LT, we caught one.”

Whitney signaled for Baxter to hand him the communicator. “I’ll transfer it, and any others for the duration of the briefing.”

Rising, he stepped out to handle it.

Eve stepped back up, continued with the interviews and observations in Connecticut, and onto Ella Alice Foxx.

She had Feeney brief on the EDD input in that area.

“They wiped her out.” Carmichael studied Ella—Yancy’s sketch, the ID shot—on the board. “Just disappeared her. Her caseworker, the admin from the halfway house, didn’t file reports? Doesn’t pass the stink test.”