Survivor In Death (In Death #20)(72)

When she arrived at the conference room herself, Peabody was already there, setting up. At least she hadn't forgotten the duties of an aide.

“Got three names for you, Dallas, that fit the parameters of our profile.”

“At least somebody's doing what they're supposed to do today.”

Peabody preened a little as she arranged labeled discs. “One still lives in the city, one is still on active and based at FortDrum in Brooklyn. The last, is co-owner of a martial arts studio in Queens and has it listed as business and personal.”

“All still in New York. Handy. What was their deal with Swisher?”

“First one, retired sergeant, was a client--divorced with kids. Swisher got him a decent enough deal, at least when you're looking in from the outside. Reasonable split of marital property and assets, liberal visitation with minor children.”

“And where's the missus?”

“Westchester. Remarried. Spouse was the client with the second. Custody deal. She claimed emotional and physical abuse, and Swisher nailed him with it. Spouse got full custody and a stinging percentage of the guy's monthly as child support. She moved to Philadelphia, single parent status.”

“Lost the wife and kiddies, and had to pay for it. That'll piss you off. The last?”

“Similar deal as the second, with the wife--Swisher's client-- testifying under wraps. Regular and consistent abuse claimed over a period of twelve years. Two minor children. Her documentation was shaky, but Swisher pulled it through. And she went into the wind.”

“She's missing?”

“No record of her or the kids the day after the court decided in her favor. I haven't got all the details yet, but it looks like she ran. Or--”

“He got to her. Any papers on her?”

“Sister filed a missing persons. Actively pursued. Sister and family moved to Nebraska.”

“Nebraska? Who lives in Nebraska?”

“Apparently they do.”

“Yeah, with the cows and sheep.”

“Parents live there, too. The missing woman and her sister's parents. Not the cows' and sheep's--though I'm sure there are lots of parental farm animals in Nebraska.”

The thought actually brought on a shudder. “I don't like to think about those things. Cows banging each other in the field. Bizarre.”

“Well, if they don't, all we've got are manmade--”

“Don't go there. It's almost worse. Some science guy creating them in the lab.” Her voice darkened. “One day they're going to make a mistake--a big one--and mutant clone cows are going to revolt and start eating people. You wait and see.”

“I saw this vid once where these clone pigs developed intelligence and started attacking people.”

“See?” She jabbed a finger in the air. “From vid to reality is one small, slippery step. I hope to Christ I don't have to go to Nebraska.”

“I've been there. It's actually very nice. Some good cities, and the countryside's interesting. All those cornfields.”

“Cornfields? Cornfields? Do you know what can hide in cornfields-- what might be lurking in the corn? Have you thought about that?”

“No, but I will now.”

“Give me a nice dark alley. Okay.” She shook it off, looked at the murder board Peabody had set up for the briefing. “We talk to all three of the guys you popped. We visit the investigators on the Duberry and the Judge Moss cases, and we review the missing-persons report and that case file. I want to talk to the primary on a robbery homicide. ER doc, taken out in the parking lot of her hospital. They got a guy for it, but she popped on this Kirkendall custody deal, too. We reinterview any witnesses to those cases, recanvass. And if we ever get a goddamn composite from Yancy, we find a match.”

“Yancy's sketches are gold,” Peabody reminded her. “If he pulls a decent description out of the LC, we should be able to run it through the system, pop a name.”

“Step at a time.” She glanced over as Feeney walked in with McNab. She caught the suggestive look McNab sent Peabody, and tried to ignore it. They were in a cuddle stage of their relationship--new cohabs. She wasn't sure what it said about her to know she'd be relieved when they got back to sniping at each other.

“Put your hands, or your big, goofy mouth on my partner in this room, McNab, I'll rip those stupid hoops out of your ears so bloody strips of lobe fly around the room.”

In reflex, he lifted a hand to his ear and the quartet of bright blue hoops.

Feeney shook his head, spoke under his breath to Eve. “Hornier now, you ask me, than before they moved in together. Wish they'd start swiping at each other like before. This shit's getting creepy.”

It was good, Eve thought, to have someone on the team who showed good sense. To show solidarity, she gave him a slap on one of his slouched shoulders.

When Baxter and Trueheart arrived, they got coffee, the updated files.

“Detective Yancy should be joining us shortly,” Eve began. “If the wit comes through, we'll have faces. Meanwhile, we've found connections.”

Using both the board and the screen, Eve briefed the team on the potential links between the Swishers and the two other victims.

“If this same person or persons killed or arranged to have killed Moss, Duberry, and the Swisher family, we can see by the time frame that these murders are not only carefully planned, but that the person or persons behind them are controlled, patient, careful. This is no psychopath on a spree, but a purposeful man on a mission. One with connections of his own, with skill and/or the money or resources to hire those with skill. He does not work alone, but as part of a well-honed team.”