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“We can’t know what might help.”
“It breaks my heart, Dallas. Instead of going to their daughter’s wedding, they’ll go to her funeral.”
“Then let’s make damn sure it’s the last funeral he’s responsible for.”
18
WHEN EVE FOUND ROARKE IN HER OFFICE again, she frowned. “Why are you still here?”
“They don’t need me in EDD at this point. I can deal with some of my own work as easily from here as anywhere, with the benefit of being with my wife.”
“I’m going back in the field. I have to go by the morgue, then track down the student who sold the suspect his gear.”
“I’ve nothing more interesting to do.”
She considered it. She could leave Peabody to write and file the reports, nag the lab, run the probabilities on which target might be next.
“Fine. You’re with me.”
“My favorite place.”
With the work dumped on Peabody, Eve took the morgue first.
“You don’t need to go in. I don’t expect any surprises here, no revelations. It’s just procedure.”
“In any case.” He continued down the white tunnel with her. “I remember when we brought Nixie here,” he said, speaking of the little girl whose family had been slaughtered in a home invasion. “Brutal. But then, I suppose, it always is. She’s doing well with Elizabeth and Richard, and young Kevin. They’re making a family. I think she’s able to do that because you gave her resolution.”
“She’s tough. She’ll make it okay.” She paused outside the doors to Morris’s suite. “The one who’s responsible for what’s in there? He didn’t have to crawl through his mother’s blood like Nixie did, he didn’t have his entire family slaughtered in their own beds. He doesn’t have half Nixie’s spine. He’s weak, and I’m going to give him one hell of a resolution.”
There, Roarke thought, there she was. She could feel the blame, and the pain—perhaps she needed to—but she could and would always come back to purpose.
Morris wore mourning black today, with a shirt of deep red. Music wove quietly through the air as he closed the Y-cut on Karlene with sure strokes.
“You’re done with her?”
“I started on her immediately. Hello, Roarke.”
“Morris. How are you?”
“Better than I was. I hoped I wouldn’t see either of you until the wedding, and under much happier circumstances. I pushed the tox screen,” he told Eve. “And found the same combination, though I might have missed it if I hadn’t been specifically looking. She’d been dosed approximately six and a half hours prior to death, and in a lesser amount than our first.”
“He realized he didn’t need her to be out as long,” Eve concluded. “And he didn’t have as much time to work on her. Or didn’t want to take as much time.”
“Other than that, and the use of elasticized cord rather than police restraints, his method remains the same. Bound, ankles and wrists. Ankle restraints removed and reapplied. Multiple rapes, vaginal and anal, an almost casual beating considering the violence of the rapes. Sporadic smothering and choking. COD manual strangulation. She fought. As evidenced by the abrasions, lacerations, contusions on her wrists and ankles.”
“He varies in small ways to suit the circumstances, but sticks with the overall method.”
“There’s one other variation,” Morris said. “She was pregnant.”
“Shit.” It punched straight through her. “Goddamn it.”
“Under a week along. She may not have known.”
Eve shoved at her hair. She didn’t bother to curse again. “Her people are going to come in. Her parents, her cohab. They were getting married Saturday.”
Morris released a long sigh. “Fate’s a cruel bastard.”
“Fuck fate, people are cruel bastards. There’s no need to tell her people about the pregnancy, unless they ask. Not yet anyway.”
