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They’d toss her into the system, as she’d been tossed. Maybe she’d get lucky. Maybe she wouldn’t. And maybe she’d spend the rest of her life reliving what Summerset had called the unspeakable in nightmares.
She stepped to the window and, looking out, didn’t see the leaves dancing in that rising wind, or the burnished fall color that was already fading toward November dull. She saw the face of the cop who’d stood over her hospital bed when she’d been eight.
Who hurt you? What’s your name? Where’s your mom and dad?
Give me the facts, she thought now. Give me some data so I can help you. I’m not going to feel too much, standing here over this broken kid, because I’ve got to do the job.
She closed her eyes a moment and pulled it back in. So did she have to do the job.
“Start running Kirkendall for known associates, for other family members,” she said without turning. “Do the same on Isenberry. You get any who cross, we push it.”
“Yes, sir. Want coffee?”
“Yeah I want coffee, as I’m still among the living. Thanks.”
She turned just as Roarke came into the room. Something must have shown on her face still, as he stopped, frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“A pile of dead bodies at the morgue. Same old same old.”
“Eve.”
“Leave it, would you?”
He started to speak again, she could see the struggle. Then he gave a quick nod. “All right. Where do I sign up for my assignment?”
“Gotcha covered right here. Suspect, Kirkendall, Roger, former army, rank of sergeant. Swisher repped the spouse in a custody suit, won. Presiding judge was hit a couple years back. Vehicular explosion device. CPS rep was strangled in her bed. Expert medical wit stabbed, and it looks like the asshole they pinched for it might have just been wrong place, wrong time.”
“Looks like you’ve got your man.”
“He’s not in a cage yet. He co-owns a dojo in Queens. Flash place with Master Lu, his partner.”
“Lu the Dragon?”
“Yeah.” She was able to smile now, though it didn’t quite move up into her eyes. “Who says we’ve got nothing in common? You catch him wiping the floor with the Korean to take his third Olympic gold?”
“I did, yes. Front row.”
“Okay, not so much in common, as I caught it on a screen in a bar in Hell’s Kitchen. Anyway, Lu comes up clean. He deals with Kirkendall through the magic of E. Sends required paperwork and profits electronically. Says he hasn’t seen his partner in six years. I believe him.”
“And you’d like me to trace the transmissions and deposits.”
“Check. Lu’s equipment’s in your comp lab. Pickup officer confirmed its delivery.”
“I’ll get started.” But he crossed to her first, stroked his fingers down her cheek. “I don’t like to see you sad.”
“I’ll have a big, toothy smile on my face when I close this case.”
He kissed her lightly. “I’ll hold you to that, Lieutenant.”
Discreetly, Peabody waited until he’d left before coming out with the coffee. “You want me to set up on your secondary unit?”
“Yeah.” Eve took the coffee. “I’m going to take a poke at Yancy’s theory. If Kirkendall’s had major face sculpting, wouldn’t he trust—first—a military surgeon? Guy spends nearly twenty in, it doesn’t seem like he’d go to a civilian.”
“That kind of change has to be recorded,” Peabody pointed out. “You can’t radically change your appearance without filing fresh ID. If Yancy’s right, and he did, we wouldn’t be looking for a surgeon on the up.”
“Covert ops, guys have work done. Temp and permanent. We’ll see if he had any before, and who he trusted to do the job.”
She sat at her desk, called up Kirkendall’s military data. And Mira walked in.
