Kindred in Death (In Death #29)(58)

Warning . . . Extracting data by year will delay results.

“Can’t be helped. Command given.”

She topped off her coffee and left for the conference room while the computer worked.

She’d hoped Peabody would be back so she could palm off the setup on her partner. Instead, she loaded the data in the room comp, began updating the board.

She muscled out a second board and began to write.

Crime mirrors previous event?

Connection—MacMasters to killer—killer to person unknown killed by same MO. Search in progress.

UNSUB—organized, focused, ability to acclimate.

She continued, listed the salients of Mira’s profile.

Two wits with possible sightings of UNSUB currently working with Detective Yancy.

Columbia connection. Student and staff files accessed.

Shoes ID’d by wit, Columbia sweatshirt, long shots.

Attendance with vic, Columbia public performances and/or lectures, long shot.

She was still writing when Baxter and Trueheart came in.

“Report.”

“Neighborhood canvass, zip. If we get a sketch, I think we’d have better luck. We hit her known haunts, got zip there. Kids in and out, who pays attention? Plenty who recognized her, but nobody who put her with a guy who matches what we know.”

He passed to Trueheart. “Well, we didn’t really do any better with the canvass of the area your wit states she spotted them. We had a couple people who thought maybe they’d seen her, but wouldn’t commit. We had one who thought he’d seen her and with a boy around twenty. But he couldn’t give us any more than that. Not even coloring, build, clothing. Just maybe. We have his name and data, when we get the sketch.”

“We’ve started going through MacMasters’s cases, working from current back,” Baxter added. “Anything that even squeaks, we’re ru nning.”

“Split it, work from each end and meet in the middle,” Eve ordered. “We’re stalled on the more currents, so let’s start hitting further back, all the way back and working forward.”

“Back to files from about a quarter century ago?” Baxter rubbed his nose. “You’re the boss.”

“That’s right.” She glanced over when Peabody came in carrying a large box. Trueheart hurried over to take it from her.

“My boy’s a real gentleman,” Baxter commented.

“More than the cops on the elevator when I had to squeeze in with that sucker. Have to be fifty playbills,” Peabody continued. “And programs and posters. Saw where you were going and went through her things, added show and concert tees and other memorabilia.”

“Good. I got the list from Dr. Lapkoff, detailing performances and lectures at the university since April. Odds are if the vic attended, the killer went with her. We match the paraphernalia to the list.”

She turned to the murder board where she’d put up a map. “Red pins show the three locations we know they were together. The park, the Second Avenue location, and her home. We’re going to keep digging until we add more.”

She checked her wrist unit. “Where the hell is EDD?”

“I tagged McNab on my way in. He said they’d be here.” Peabody scanned the conference table. “No food, no beverage. Anybody want? Stupid question,” she said before anyone answered. “Be right back.”

“Well, while your refreshments are being arranged,” Eve began, breaking off when Feeney and McNab walked in. “Nice you could make it.”

Feeney shot a finger at her. “Neck-deep. Gonna need a transfusion for the blood I lost leaking out of my freaking eyes.”

He sat, circled his neck. Eve heard the pops and cracks from across the room.

“Son of a bitch used some new virus. Nothing like we’ve seen before. I’ve got men working on identifying it, piecing together the elements.”

“New viruses pop up every day,” Eve said. “Comps are supposed to be shielded anyway. CompuGuard’s supposedly on that.”

“They’re busy trying to regulate, screwing around with privacy issues, unregistered. The new shit crops up every few weeks, really good new shit every year or two. This is really good new shit.”

Eve considered. “How long would it take you to come up with really good new shit?”

He put on a sober face. “I’m an officer of the law.”

“Yeah, and?”

He shrugged. “Depends on how much time I’ve got to work it, how much damage I want to do.”

“Something like this?” McNab put in. “You’d have to have a good hundred-fifty dedicated hours in it. More if you’re a hobbyist and not cued in. Plus you’d have to do it shielded. CompuGuard’s got spotters. They don’t catch everything, that’s for frigging sure, but if they slap you, you’re slapped hard.”

She started to speak, but he anticipated her. “We started a run on CG’s known infractions and fines. The trouble is they don’t like to share, so we have to get an official go every time we hit a flag.”

She thought of Roarke’s skills, and his unregistered equipment. There, she considered, she might be willing to blur the line if necessary.

She turned back to the board, wrote: New comp virus, possible e-education or employment.