Devoted in Death (In Death #41)(100)

“Some of the cuts and punctures were shallow, and Porter reports the vic’s left foot and ankle were smashed – heavy object. Antemortem. Both knees were broken.”

“Any burns?”

“Not in his report, but the fish…”

Eve turned on her heel, strode to her desk and tagged Morris at home.

He didn’t bother to block video – she’d never known him to. He answered, casually propped in bed, his hair loosely braided, his eyes still blurry with sleep.

“Campbell?”

“No, but possibly related. You’ve got a John Doe – Porter did the autopsy. Male, twenty-five to thirty, mixed race. Floater, surfaced Pier 40, been under six days. Signs of torture, Morris. Face beaten in beyond IDing, fingers severed. COD stabbing, abdomen. I need you on it, now, and I need you to push for immediate DNA. I want him ID’d yesterday.”

“I’ll order the DNA now.” He tossed aside the covers. Eve caught the Grim Reaper tat on his thigh, then a solid glimpse of his very well-toned ass before he moved out of screen range. “You’ll have it within the hour. I’m on my way in.”

“Thanks.”

“I never put it together.” Peabody was on her feet. “I never considered…”

“Peabody, it dropped on you less than twelve hours ago, in the middle of another prioritized investigation.”

“But I never – you thought of it in under five minutes, with just the basics I gave you.”

“And if I’d given you five minutes last night, we’d have moved on it sooner. We don’t know if it’s connected, but we’ll know once the John Doe is ID’d.”

“They’ve never done anything like this – it’s not the pattern. But I should’ve —”

“Should’ves are crap,” Eve shot back, “and who’s the LT here?”

“You are,” Peabody mumbled.

“If you want to beat yourself up,” Eve continued as Roarke came in, “do it later. But you’ve got nothing to take a hit over. It’s something we’re going to check out. Maybe they did something like this before and nobody’s found a body – or put it together, maybe it was the first time. Maybe it’s not connected at all. And maybes are like should’ves. Crap. The point is, there’s some correlation, and they needed a place in New York.”

“So, maybe they’re using the John Doe’s. Sorry about the maybe. We pursue the possibility they killed and disposed of John Doe to get his place.”

Sensing Peabody’s distress, Roarke crossed over, kissed her cheek.

“I screwed up,” she said.

“Did I say you screwed up?” Eve snapped it out this time. “You’ll know when you’ve screwed up because my boot will be up your ass. This DB hasn’t been reported missing. I’ve combed the missings, and nobody in his age range and race has been reported in the last week. You didn’t have Morris. Porter’s decent, but he’s no Morris, who’d have considered this possible connection and pushed on it. We have no previous instances of disfiguration or mutilation of this sort. You’re working the case, and briefed your partner and LT at the first opportunity.

“Is my boot up your ass?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then you didn’t screw up. Get breakfast. For everybody. We don’t have time for moping around. Move.”

“What do you want me to get – for breakfast?”

“Do I look like I give a skinny rat’s ass?”

“You really don’t.”

Moving fast now, Peabody went to the kitchen.

Eve narrowed her eyes at Roarke. “And don’t even think about giving me grief over that.”

“On the contrary.” He moved to her, tapped the dent in her chin. “I was about to say well done. You gave her just what she needed. Now, why don’t you tell me what this John Doe has to do with these murders?”

“Could be nothing, could be everything.” She reeled it off while she went to her desk, checked missing persons again for anyone in the range of John Doe.

“Pier 40 – it would coordinate with your map, or close enough.”

“That’s right. So, possible scenario: John Doe meets Parsens and/or James, or they scope him out while they’re hunting for a nest. John Doe likely lives alone, or he’d have been reported. That’s playing the odds, but they’re good ones. They take him down, in or near his residence. I vote for in. They have some fun with him, then do what they can to make IDing him difficult, they stuff him in a bag, add bricks. Steal those from an abandoned or a construction site, haul in the van, add bricks to the bag. Dump the body in the river, then make a nest in John Doe’s place.”

“Once you ID John Doe —”

“We check out his place. What Morris finds helps determine how we check it out. Could be no more than Doe’s serious bad luck, or it could be the piece we need to take these f*ckers down.”

“You think the latter.”

She had the buzz, right down to her fingertips.

“Feels right.” She paced around her board, then strode to Peabody’s station, began a full review. “Feels really right. Do me a favor?”

“Of what sort?”