Kindred in Death (In Death #29)(69)

“Show me.”

“Hold on. Neither of them saw his eyes, because of the shades. Those and the cap hid part of his face. I’ve projected the most likely, probability eighty-seven and change, for those features. Eyes, eyebrows, forehead. Marta got a glimpse of the forehead, the upper face when he pulled off the cap, but—”

“Show me,” Eve demanded.

“Coming through, on screen and hard copy, projected, and with cap and shades.”

She leaned over her unit, studied the images that popped in split screen. Roarke walked to the printouts sliding out its slot.

Young, she thought. Early to mid-twenties by her cop gauge. Caucasian male, with even, attractive, somewhat feminine features. Small, straight nose, full lips, soft eyes, a bit heavy-lidded. The face was oval, almost classically so, and the hair dark, shaggy, trendy.

She studied the image with it, where the features were obscured by the cap and shades. And nodded.

“You gave me good, Yancy.”

“If you’re confident with it, we can send it out.”

“No media. Team members only for now. He’s going to come to the vic’s memorial, odds are. I don’t want to alert him, scare him off. Get this to the other members, with a lock on it. I’m going to start an image search, see if I can ID the bastard.”

“Good luck.”

“You gave me more than luck. This could make the difference. Send it out, Yancy, and go home.”

“You can count on it.”

When Yancy signed off, Eve considered her options, then contacted Jamie.

“Hey, Dallas.”

“You’re going to have an image coming through,” she said without preamble. “Take it and get over to Columbia. I’m going to set it up for you. I want you to start using their imaging program, see if you can get me a match.”

“It’s him.”

“It’s what we’ve got. This is locked, Jamie. Nobody but you, or McNab if you need him. It doesn’t go to any of your e-pals.”

“I get it. I know. I’ll work it, Dallas.”

“I’ll get you cleared. Work good,” she said, then blew out a breath and once again contacted Peach Lapkoff.

“Well, Lieutenant, we’re getting to be best friends.”

“I apologize for interrupting your evening. We have an image, and I’m sending Jamie over to the university, as an expert consultant, civilian, to work with your imaging program.”

“Now?”

“Now. I need you to clear this, Dr. Lapkoff, and to keep it confidential. I can’t afford a leak.”

“I’ll take care of it personally.”

“You’re making my job easier.”

“My grandfather would expect no less.”

“She’s okay,” Eve mumbled as she broke transmission. “So.” She nodded at the images on screen. “There you are, f**ker. Now who are you? Computer, initiate search and match, all data on individual in current images, begin with New York City residents.”

Acknowledged. Initiating . . .

“Auxiliary search, same images, same directive, for match with students listed in File Lapkoff-Columbia-C.”

Acknowledged. Initiating Auxiliary search . . .

“Could get lucky there, find him on the short list before Jamie’s halfway to Morningside Heights. Okay. Now when I get the data you’re running, I can add that into the mix and—”

He nudged her aside, tapped a quick series of keys. “It’s finished, a few minutes ago. And yes, we did an upgrade on that system the third week in March. You want a third search, with this data, I take it.”

“Affirmative.”

He ordered the task himself. “I’d say it’s time for more coffee, and I should take myself off to the lab to have mine.”

“We may not need—”

“That’s not the point, is it? I’m not going to let that git beat me. Carry on, Lieutenant, and so will I.”

She got her own coffee, then added both sketches to her board. As her computer worked, she circled the board and considered Roarke’s theory. Hacking or ID theft. A boy had to hone his craft, didn’t he? And a younger version of the man on her board might have made a couple of mistakes. Slipped a little as he learned all the ins and outs.

A little smudge on his juvenile record, she mused. We can add that in, yes, we can. We can add that possibility. Maybe back home, wherever the hell home was.

Sticks close to the truth, she recalled. He’d told Deena he’d had a little brush with the law over illegals. Maybe he’d had them with cyber crimes instead.

She let the computer continue its search and sat with her PPC to run criminal, focus on juvenile offenses, with the data she’d accrued from Roarke and Columbia.

It didn’t surprise her to find so many. The cop in her was more surprised when anyone got through life without a smudge or a bump or a bust.

She began the laborious process of scanning, eliminating, separating into possibles. Once again, she lost track of time, and nearly bobbled her third mug of coffee when her ’link signaled.

“Dallas.” Jamie’s face told her what she wanted to hear. “I’ve got him. I think I’ve got him. It’s a ninety-seven-point-three probability match. It’s from five years back, and he only had a semester and a half in but—”