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“I know,” Eve corrected. She or

dered the images of Knight and Preston on screen. “He did that. You trained him, but that’s not on you. He twisted his training. But it’s on you if you don’t cooperate, if you don’t assist this department, this investigation. If you hamper in any way our pursuit of Roger Kirkendall, then the next one he kills is on you.”

“Your evidence is far from conclusive at this stage of your investigation.”

“Let me give you some more. And since you look like a woman who does her job, not a lot of what I’m going to give you is news. He owns part of a successful business in Queens, but hasn’t been seen by his partner in six years. Grant Swisher represented his wife in a custody suit—and won. Judge Moss, presiding, was assassinated, along with his fourteen-year-old son, in a car bomb two years ago. Karin Duberry, the case worker from Child Protection Services, was strangled in her apartment last year. I believe when I complete the investigation into the stabbing of the medical authority who testified for Mrs. Kirkendall, we will find that Kirkendall was also responsible for this death.”

“Circumstantial.”

“Bullshit, Major. Jilly Isenberry, former corporal in the U.S. Army, was until recently the roommate of Sade Tully, the paralegal in Swisher’s office. Isenberry spent time in the Swisher home, was considered a friend. Isenberry arranged to meet Tully shortly after the Kirkendall trial, with the happy coincidence of a nice apartment within walking distance of Swisher’s office. She, like Kirkendall, seems to travel a good deal. And I’ll bet my next month’s salary against yours that Kirkendall and Isenberry not only knew each other, but served together.”

“One moment, Lieutenant.” The holo vanished.

“Checking it now, aren’t you? Tight-assed bitch.” Eve caught herself, turned to Whitney. “I beg your pardon, Commander.”

“No need.”

“You’ve been busy,” Feeney said. “Good going, kid.”

“We’re rolling. We don’t really need the military details at this point, but I’m not going to let her stonewall us. I want them.”

“Holes in the ER doc’s case,” Baxter put in. “If you’re looking at them. Guy who went down for it claimed he found her that way, just decided to rob the body—and got himself busted with her wallet and personal effects before he got off the lot. Her blood all over him. But they never found the murder weapon.”

“Anything in his statement? He claim to see anything?”

“He was juiced. Had a homemade stunner in his pocket. No evidence vic was stunned. Already had a sheet. He’d gone down for illegals, and for assault, and for robbery. Cops find him a hundred feet from a dead body, dead body’s possessions and blood on him, they didn’t look elsewhere.”

“I want copies of the case file, the ME’s report, the whole shot.”

“Already done.”

The holo shimmered back on. “The records requested will be made available to you.”

“Add Isenberry’s.”

“Along with former Corporal Isenberry’s. These officers are no longer under military jurisdiction. If either or both are responsible for these deaths, I hope you get them.”

“Thank you, Major.” Whitney gave the holo a nod of acknowledgment. “My department and the city of New York appreciate your help in this matter.”

“Commander. Lieutenant.” The holo faded away.

Whitney settled at his desk again. “I’d like an update while we wait for the data.”

Eve ran through it for him, for the team.

“Patient isn’t the word.” Baxter huffed out a breath. “Patient’s a cat at a mouse hole. This guy’s like a spider who’ll work for years to spin a web from the Bronx to the Bowery. Our retired USMC seemed clean. He was out of town the night of the Swisher murders. Golf tourney in Palm Springs. Transpo checked out, hotel, and he’s got plenty of witnesses.”

“Ours was running night maneuver drills the night of.” McNab spread his hands. “He’s got a whole platoon to back him up. Maybe they had solids because they needed to cover, but they seemed straight.”

“This is our man.” Again, Eve called on Whitney’s computer, and brought Kirkendall’s image on-screen. “Swisher helped cost him his wife and kids. And that wife, those kids, went missing directly after the trial.”

“He got them.”

“Maybe. Maybe. But then why spend years planning and executing the assassinations of those he blamed for the loss? Payback maybe, for the time and trouble, but if you got them back, or punished them, why plant a cohort with Swisher’s paralegal? For six years.”

“Because they got away from him,” Peabody put in. “Whiffed. Vanished.”

“I’m thinking they did just that. She probably planned to go, no matter how the trial came out. So that’s a pisser. She not only gets custody, she gets away, with his kids. He loses his control over them. So, plant somebody with Tully, and maybe she talks about where they went. Except she didn’t know, she figures they’re dead. Only thing left to do is take out the enemy. The people who went up against him, and won.”

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