Kindred in Death (In Death #29)(90)

“Will somebody just give me the progress. In English?”

“Picture’s worth a thousand. Put it up, Jamie,” Feeney ordered.

“Roger that.” Using a remote, Jamie displayed an image on screen.

Eve shifted, stepped back. There, on screen, Darrin Pauley was captured in midstep as he climbed the stairs to the victim’s front door. He wore a cap, which she identified as from Columbia, shades, and a shy smile. Deena, young, pretty, beaming, stood in the open doorway, her hand held out for his.

“Excellent,” Eve murmured.

“Bloody brilliant,” Roarke stated.

“I wouldn’t’ve thought of it if you hadn’t started the ball.” Jamie nodded toward Roarke. “And you were the one who actually did the conversion and—”

Roarke shot a finger at Jamie. “Bloody brilliant.”

“Well.” Though he shrugged, pleasure shone on Jamie’s face. “Yeah.”

“The PA will have to be a complete screwup not to cage this bastard for First Degree. But we have to catch him first. Can you do the same with the SoHo security?”

“Now that we’ve identified the virus, have the process?” Feeney bared his teeth in a smile. “We’ll have all of the MacMasters and the SoHo vids for you before end of shift.”

“Nice work, all of you. Damn nice work. He’s wearing a backpack, handy for holding his supplies. The same shoes the wit ID’d from the park.”

“That brings me to retail,” Peabody put in. “I’ve got a strong lead on the shoes, and the rest. An outlet right on campus, which unfortunately screwed my downtown hunch. The shoes, the sweatshirt, sweatpants, cap, shades, backpack, airboard, several T-shirts, and a windbreaker were purchased there by a Donald Petrie, on March thirty-first.”

“Address?”

“The address that came up is in Ohio, and actually is the home of one Donal Petri, age sixty-eight, who was pretty steamed when he got the charges for a bunch of stuff from a college outlet in New York. He reported the fraud in mid-April upon getting the bill. I’ve got the name of the clerk whose ID number was on the sale. I haven’t yet been able to contact. She’s a student at the university.”

“We’ll run it down. Tomorrow’s memorial,” Eve continued and outlined the plan.

Toward the end of the briefing, Eve received word the Robinses were being escorted into Central. Because she wanted privacy, she directed them to be taken to Interview A. She gathered the case file on Irene Schultz and the mug shot.

She found them sitting together at the table, hands linked. She supposed the best term for the way they looked would be shell-shocked.

“Mr. and Mrs. Robins, I’m Lieutenant Dallas. You remember Detective Peabody. We want to thank you for coming in like this, and to offer our sincere sympathy for your loss.”

“I talked to her yesterday morning.” Jaynie’s voice quavered. “When she was on her way to . . . that appointment. I wanted to tell her my sister and her family were getting in this morning. My niece, her cousin, is one of the bridesmaids. We were going to have a get-together tonight. She was so excited. About the wedding, and she was so confident she’d make this sale. She was so happy.”

“She talked to you about this man?”

“Not really. She just said it was the perfect client for the perfect property, and the sale would be the perfect wedding gift. I have her dress, her wedding dress.” Disbelief swirled with the grief in Jaynie’s eyes. “I’m keeping it because she doesn’t want Tony to see it. It’s in the closet in her bedroom at home.”

Peabody put a cup of water on the table, laid a hand on Jaynie’s shoulder before taking her seat across the table.

“He didn’t care about her, Mrs. Robins. But I do.” Eve waited until the woman looked at her again, focused on her. “I care about Karlene, and with your help I’m going to find the person responsible and see that he pays for what he did to her.”

“She didn’t do anything to him.” Owen Robins stared out of shattered eyes. “She never hurt anyone.”

“He doesn’t care,” Eve repeated. “Not about Karlene, not about sixteen-year-old Deena MacMasters. He cares about what he sees as payback. He cares about hurting everyone he believes took something from him. Irene Schultz. That’s all he cares about.”

Eve took the photo from the file, laid it on the table. “I need you to try to remember her.”

“I looked back at my archives. It was so long ago. I believed in the work, believed in putting the welfare and best interest of the child above all. Still, it was never easy to remove a child from the home, even when it was best. I lasted almost ten years. A long time. Then we moved to Brooklyn, and I counsel families. I try to help. I always did.”

“I understand.”

“I don’t really remember her, this woman. Not clearly, I’m sorry. There were so many. Too many. My notes, I brought them. You can have them. I made note that the living conditions seemed very good, and the child well-cared for. Temporary removal was based on the mother’s arrest, and the suspicion that the father was complicit. There were no friends or relatives, so the boy was placed with a foster family. And he was returned to the father within forty-eight hours. I don’t understand how he could take my child’s life because I put him in a safe place for two days. He wasn’t harmed.”