Visions in Death (In Death #19)(61)

She scrubbed her hands over her face, and put through a call to Morris at the morgue.

He was at his desk, and answered himself.

"What can you tell me?" she asked him.

"I'm about to send you the report, but I can tell you Lily Napier had a short life, that it was ended in the same manner as Elisa Maplewood's, and in my opinion by the same individual. There was more violence to the face and body, which would lead me to believe his rage is increasing."

He shifted, and she could see him bring up a file. "Your on-site was thorough, as always. To that I can add she consumed some pork-fried rice four hours prior to her death, and was mildly anemic. There was no se**n. I found fibers inside the vagina. My guess would be they're from her panties, and were carried inside during the rape. There were other fibers that will likely be identified as textile, and almost certainly be from her own clothing. Grass and dirt under her nails, in accordance with your observation. She dug them into the ground. No hair, other than her own."

"Hair from Maplewood turned out to be from the dog, and a squirrel," Eve told him. "Dog's obvious, and it's probable she picked up the squirrel hair on the grass in the park. Dickhead's report IDs the fibers under Maplewood's nails as man-made, black. Ubiquitous black cloth. We'll match it when we get him, but for now we've got nothing from him."

"Lunatics are, unfortunately, rarely stupid."

"Yeah. Thanks, Morris."

She was about to try Mira's office when she felt her blood sugar bottom out. Since her chocolate supply was tapped for the moment, vending was her only choice. She walked out to the hallway and stared at a snack machine with pure dislike.

"Problem?"

She glanced over, saw Mira. "No. I was just going to grab something, then tag you."

"I had a consult in this section. Thought I'd come to you."

"Good, fine." After a brief hesitation, Eve pulled credits out of her pocket. "Do me a favor? Get me a Booster Bar."

"All right." But she waved Eve's credits away. "My treat."

"Thanks." Eve stuck them back in her pocket, jiggled them. "I'm avoiding contact with machines unless absolutely necessary. It's an experiment."

"Hmm. Fake fruit or fake caramel?"

"Fake caramel. Did you have time to read the report on Napier?"

"Only to scan it, I'm afraid." Mira made the selection, and the machine—in what Eve considered particularly snotty tones—raved about the Booster Bar's delicious flavor, energy snap, and on-the-go convenience before reciting the ingredients and nutritional data.

"There ought to be a mute feature on these things. There really should." Eve ripped the wrapper, bit in. "Do you need more time to study the case file?"

"I'll certainly take it, but I can tell you what you've probably already concluded. He's escalating. Since he killed again so quickly, it's logical to assume he's already selected and stalked more targets. Your on-site indicates no defensive wounds, and a more violent beating pre-mortem."

"She was smaller than Maplewood. Sort of delicate. And he clocked her in the face first off, I'd say. Broke her jaw. Didn't have any fight in her."

"From the pre-mortem injuries, my conclusion would be he was more angry, more frustrated by the fact this victim didn't fight. He can only truly demonstrate his superior strength and power if his victim struggles."

"Beating on somebody's not much fun if they can't feel it."

"In this case, I'd agree with that. She would have been somewhat of a disappointment to him."

"If he's disappointed, he may kill again more quickly. He may need the satisfaction." Eve took another bite of the bar, paced up and down the corridor while Mira waited patiently.

"I've got a media conference coming up. Do I tell women with long brown hair to stay off the streets after dark? Jesus. I feel like I'm building a box around him. I feel that, but I haven't got all the sides steady in place yet. While I'm getting them, while I'm looking for the goddamn lid, he's going to get another one."

"Yes, he probably will." Mira spoke with complete calm. "He may very well kill more than one before you finish the sides of that box and close the lid. And those deaths will be his doing, his responsibility. Not yours."

"I know that, but—"

"But it's hard for you to think there's a woman out there, going about her day, her life, unaware that someone's planning to end it, violently. Horribly. It's hard for you to know he may succeed despite everything you're doing."

"While he's planning it, I'm going to a fricking dinner party tonight."

"Eve." Mira took her arm, eased them a little farther away from the traffic pattern in the corridor. "There was a time you did nothing but the work."

"Dinner party." Eve held her hands out like scales, juggled the right. "Stopping a killer." And dropped the left as if with great weight. "No-brainer."

"It's not that simple or clear-cut, and you know it." The stubborn set of Eve's jaw had her pushing the point. "I'll tell you now that I estimated you had two, maybe three more years before you burned out. Before you couldn't stand over another body and keep your sanity. That would've been a tragedy, for you, for this department, for the city."