The Herd(61)

“He always seemed like a great guy,” I wrapped up. “Eleanor was really ready to meet someone—she even set a deadline and said she was going to manifest a partner by whatever date. And then they seemed happy together. Our gang is kind of a…girls’ club, we don’t often bring our partners around when we’re together, but he’s, you know. Good people.”

Ratliff glanced down at her notepad. “Okay. Let’s talk about anyone you think might have had a problem with Ms. Walsh, a grudge against her.”

Involuntarily, my eyes flicked onto my coat, with the blackmail note shoved deep in a pocket. Picturing it shot my chest with coldness, fresh as mint. Had someone from Jinny’s family gotten it in their head that Eleanor was responsible for Jinny’s death? But of course I couldn’t bring it up.

“The graffiti,” I said. “I mentioned it again last night. Someone broke into all the Herd sites, spray-painted profanities on the wall, and later stole her phone. I’m sure you have this somewhere.”

“We’re still looking into that,” Herrera said.

“Well, thank you.” I sighed and looked around the room. “Who else? She has internet trolls saying terrible things to her all the time, of course. I think there are even dedicated message boards. But nothing lately, no stalkers or threats or anything.” Except the blackmail letter, which was a kind of threat, I supposed. “I’m also curious if the Titan acquisition will go through with Eleanor gone. I’m not really clear on who was supposed to benefit from it, other than Eleanor. I forget her lawyer’s name, but Aurelia—she’s sort of the number three, I know you talked to her—she should be able to connect you.”

“That’s very helpful. Thanks.”

“Anyone else?” Herrera prompted.

“The one thing is—” I faltered, fell silent.

“What is it?” He leaned forward.

I sighed. “I don’t even think it’s worth bringing up.”

“Sometimes the tiniest details or even intuitions turn out to be helpful,” Ratliff said.

“Okay. It’s probably nothing, but…her friend Ted, his name’s probably come up, right? Ted Corrigan.” I swallowed; suddenly my heart was thrashing around in my rib cage like a baby bird. “I just keep thinking about how much access he had to the Herd. More than any other man I can think of. He was Eleanor’s go-to handyman-slash-IT-guy, so he was in there maybe a few times a month. After hours.”

I scratched at my eyebrow. “He came in a few days before she went missing to reset the router. And I guess they now think that’s what kicked the new cameras offline. Which seems like a big coincidence, right?”

“Are you saying you think he shut down the cameras in anticipation of attacking her?” Herrera set a fist on his hip.

“No, that’s—now that you say it, that’s ridiculous. I know Ted; he wouldn’t hurt a fly.” I shrugged. “I was just thinking…I don’t know, he always seemed to carry a torch for her. And you know how in the news, you’re always hearing about these guys who go berserk after a woman romantically rejects them? I just…I wonder if she rebuffed him at some point.”

“Do you know for a fact that she rejected him?” Ratliff asked. “Was there an incident?”

“No, nothing like that. Forget I said anything.” Guilt whooshed up through me. Why had I sicced them on Ted?

“We’ll look into it,” Ratliff said. “Now I need you to do something difficult. Can you walk me through last night again, from the moment you went up onto the roof?”

I sighed, exhaustion and gloom filling me up from the inside, from my bones, but I squeezed my eyes shut and repeated it, frame by frame. When I got to the part about seeing the gash in her neck, Herrera jumped in.

“You saw a line cut along her neck?”

“Yeah, a line. At least, I think it was a line.” My brain cued it up, an image projected on a massive screen, and I felt a wild pitch of nausea and despair. “She keeps a knife in her office, you know.”

“We’re still looking for the murder weapon,” Herrera replied, and then he tapped near his Adam’s apple. “See, it’s actually less of a slash and more of a stab. We’re still waiting for the coroner’s report, but on sight he thought it looked less like a knife or scissors and more like a scalpel.” He punched his fist toward his neck.

“A scalpel,” I repeated. “Why would anyone have…” I froze. I knew exactly one person who worked in a medical center—a bustling, sprawling spot with stockrooms around every bend. I’d sat on his couch and sipped his water this very morning.

“Something like a scalpel,” Ratliff explained. “And scalpels are easy to get your hands on—you can pick one up at the Rite Aid down the street, believe it or not. But for someone to have been carrying it…”

“That would mean it was premeditated. You think someone went there to murder Eleanor.” My voice had swooped into hollow amazement, like I should punctuate it with a whistle.

“We’re still—”

“Exploring all possibilities, I know, I know,” I finished.

“Ms. Bradley, is there anything else you think we should know?”

I thought about it. “Maybe someone was bitter about not getting in? The Herd gets way more applicants than they have spots for. And women were really rabid about it, there were online forums about trying to get in and stuff. Maybe you’ll find something there.” I clicked my tongue. “Eleanor pissed a lot of people off. Just by being fabulous, by being an ally and a champion. And she was so calm about it, so brave. Took it all in stride. Never asked for…for support.” My voice cracked and I inhaled sharply.