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How did you tell someone the person she expected to be waiting for her at home wouldn’t be there tonight? Or any other night? Eve remembered. You told them fast, without flourishes.
“It’s regarding your husband, Mrs. Foster.”
“Craig? He’s still at school.”
“I’m sorry to tell you, your husband’s dead.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say to someone. That’s a vicious, terrible thing to say. I want you to leave, right now. I’m going to call the police—the real police—and have you arrested.”
“Mrs. Foster, my partner and I are the real police, and we’re the investigators on your husband’s death. He died today at approximately twelve-thirty.”
“Of course he didn’t. He didn’t. He was at school. That’s his lunch break, and he sent me an e-mail just after noon. I packed his lunch this morning. He’s at school, at the Monday faculty meeting right now. And he’s fine.”
Her breath began to come quick, choppy. Her color was fading even as she fumbled a hand behind to brace the table as her legs went out.
“You should sit down, Mrs. Foster,” Peabody said gently. “We’re very sorry for your loss.”
“No. No. Was there a bomb? Was there a bomb at school? Oh, my God. Is he hurt? Is Craig hurt?”
“He died,” Eve said flatly. “I’m very sorry.”
“But he…But he…You could make a mistake. You must have. I should call him. You’ll see. I should call him. But he’s in his Monday meeting. He’s not allowed to have the ’link on when he’s in his Monday meeting. We’ll go there.” She pushed away from the brace of the table, swayed. “We’ll go to the school and to Craig. I need my coat. I’ll just get my coat.”
She looked around, dazed. “Silly, so silly. I couldn’t remember where I was for a minute. I need…what is it?”
“Sit down, Mrs. Foster.”
“No, we have to go. To the school. We have to—” She jumped at the sound of a knock. A blonde in power red stepped in.
“I’d like to know what’s going on here. Lissette?”
“Elizabeth.” Lissette wore the dull look of sleepwalkers, and survivors. “Am I late for the meeting?”
“Peabody.” Eve nodded toward Lissette, then moved to the blonde. “Who are you?”
“I’m Elizabeth Blackburn, and who the hell are you?”
“Dallas, Lieutenant, NYPSD. I’ve just informed Mrs. Foster that her husband’s dead.”
“He’s…what? Craig. Oh, sweet Jesus. Lissy.”
Perhaps it was the pet name, or the tone of grief in it, but as Elizabeth started across the room, Lissette simply slid to the floor. Elizabeth went down on her knees, gathered Lissette up.
“Craig. My Craig.”
“I’m sorry. Lissy, Lissy, I’m so sorry. Was there an accident?” she demanded of Eve.
“We’ll need to speak with Ms. Foster about the circumstances.”
“All right, all right. My office is to the right, end of the corridor. I’ll bring her there to you as soon as she’s able. She needs a few minutes, for God’s sake. Just wait in my office.”
They left Lissette in the arms of her boss. There were a number of curious looks from offices and cubes, but no comment until they reached the corner office at the end of the hall. At that point a little brunette popped out like a jack-in-the-box.
“Excuse me! That’s Ms. Blackburn’s office.”
“Where she just asked us to wait.” Eve yanked out her badge. “Go back to work.”
Inside was a glossy workstation, a cushy sofa, and two pretty chairs. A fairly stunning flower arrangement stood on the table under the south-facing window.
