Survivor In Death (In Death #20)(89)

“Mrs. Turnbill, it's very important that I locate Mr. Kirkendall. If you could tell me if you've had any contact--”

“I haven't, and I don't want any contact with him.” Her voice was strained, like a wire snapped tight. “How do I know you're who you say you are?”

Eve held her badge to the screen. “Can you read my ID and my badge number?”

“Of course I can, but--”

“You can verify by contacting Cop Central in Manhattan. I can give you a contact number that won't cost--”

“I'll get the number. You'll have to hold.”

“Careful,” Peabody noted when the screen went to holding blue. “And a little pissy.”

“Not just careful, not just pissy. A little scared on top of it.” As she waited, Eve considered. She began to calculate how long a round trip to Nebraska, including interview time, might take.

Roxanne came back on screen. “All right, Lieutenant, I've verified your information.” Her face was pale now. “You're with Homicide.”

“That's correct.”

“He's killed someone. Dian--” She broke off, bit down on her lip as if to block words. “Who has he killed?”

“He's wanted for questioning in the murders of at least seven people, including two police officers.”

“In New York,” she said carefully. “He killed people in New York City?”

“He's wanted for questioning for murders that occurred in New York.”

“I see. I'm sorry. I'm very sorry. I don't know where he is, I don't know what he's doing. Frankly, I don't want to know. If I did, if I knew anything, I'd tell you. I can't help you, and this isn't something I want to discuss. I have to get back to my children.”

The screen went black.

“She's still scared of him,” Peabody commented.

“Yeah. And her sister's still alive. That's what she thought, just for an instant there. Oh God, he finally got to Dian. She may know more than she realizes. She needs a face-to-face.”

“We're going to Nebraska?”

“No, but you are.”

“Me? Just me? Out there in the wilderness?”

“Take McNab. Backup and ballast.” And, Eve thought, as someone who'd keep Peabody from overdoing. “I want you there and back tonight. You'll do better with the mother type, the family type, than I would first shot. She'll trust you faster.”

Eve used the house 'link, interrupted Roarke in the computer lab.

“I need fast, secure transpo.”

“Where are we going?”

“Not we--Peabody. Nebraska. I'm sending McNab with her, so something that'll hold two. But quick and small. They shouldn't need to be there more than a couple of hours. I've got the exact location.”

“All right, I'll arrange it. Give me a minute.”

“Wow, just like that.” Peabody gave a little sigh. “What's it like being with a guy who can snap his fingers and get you pretty much whatever you need?”

“Convenient. Use the sister on her if you have to. Show her the dead kids.”

“Jesus, Dallas.”

“She's got kids. It'll help crack her if she's hiding anything. We can't play nice. Have McNab take the edge if you need one. Can he handle bad cop?”

“He does it really well during personal role-playing games when I'm the reluctant witness.”

“Oh crap.” Eve pressed her fingers to her eyes and prayed the image wouldn't form. “Just work her, Peabody. She must know where to find the sister. Kirkendall's ex would be a valuable tool in this investigation.”

Roarke walked in, handed Peabody a memo cube. “There's your transpo. The pilot will be waiting for you.”

“Thanks.” She gathered her file bag. “I'll contact McNab, have him meet me there.”

“I want to know when you arrive, when you leave, and when you get back,” Eve told her.

“Yes, sir.”

“Safe trip,” Roarke said, then turned to Eve when Peabody headed out. “I've got some bits and pieces, but I'm going to need the unregistered to pull them together.”

“Show me what you've got.”

“Let's take it in there.” He ran a hand down her arm as they walked. “You're tired, Lieutenant.”

“Some.”

“It's been a stressful, emotional day.”

She jerked a shoulder when he unlocked his private office with palm and voice ID.

“And Nixie?”

“Mira came by on her way out. She said the kid was doing a little better. That the trip to the morgue . . . Jesus.” She covered her face with her hands. “God, I didn't think I was going to be able to hold it together in there.”

“I know.”

She shook her head, struggling even now to maintain. “The way she looked at her father, touched him. What was in her eyes when she did. Sorrow, something beyond sorrow. And you knew, seeing that, how much she loved him. That she was never afraid of him, never had to worry if he'd hurt her. We don't know what that's like. We can't. I can find the man who did this, but I can't understand what she feels. And if I can't understand, how can I make it right?”