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“I think she’d have passed through the phase where everything her parents said, wanted, expected was—or seemed to be—exactly the opposite of frosty. And you really want to be frosty at that age.”
“She made a mistake—I’ll show them I can do what I want when I want. I’m not a kid, they can’t boss me around—and she never got a chance to fix it. That’s how it feels.”
“But you’re going to dig down into the Penbrokes anyway.”
“They loved their kid, and never hurt her. But . . . you talk to the detective who caught the case, and I’ll poke a little deeper. It’s better to be sure.”
She dumped Peabody two blocks from the lab, continued on—then considered.
She used the in-dash ’link to contact Roarke.
He answered, and quickly. “Lieutenant.”
As she’d suspected, whatever meeting he might be in, whatever meetings he might have next, his mind—like hers—was focused on the girls.
“I appreciate the data you’ve been feeding to us. We’re using it. Wanted to update you. We think—hell, I’m sure—we’ve ID’d the first victim.”
“What was her name?”
He would ask that, first. He would want to put the name in his memory. “Linh—that’s L-i-n-h—Penbroke. The probability it’s her is very high. I’ve just come from notifying her parents, and getting DNA samples so we can confirm. But—”
“As you said, you’re already sure.”
“Yeah, I am. I’m heading north now to talk to a potential wit/suspect. I’ve got Peabody on other angles, so if you’re interested in standing in, have the time—”
“Give me the address. I’ll meet you.”
• • •
She beat Roarke there, but opted not to wait. Instead she used her master to buzz her way into a sturdy four-level building, veered past the gate of the elevator, and took the stairs up to the third floor, southwest corner unit.
And knocked.
When the door opened, Eve adjusted her eyeline down.
The kid—male—was in the neighborhood of ten, she calculated, and boasted a solar system of freckles over his round face—and some sort of purple goo at the corners of his mouth.
“I don’t know you,” he said, firmly, and started to close the door.
Eve stuck her foot in, which resulted in causing the kid to holler, top of impressive lungs: “Mom! Mom! Some lady’s breaking in!”
“I’m not a lady. See?” Eve jerked out her badge as running footsteps pounded from the upper level of what she saw was a spacious loft-style that took up two floors.
“Mom! There’s a police lady!”
“Trilby, get back!” The woman, blond ponytail, carpenter pants, plaid work shirt, nudged the kid away as she glanced at Eve’s badge. “Go wash your face, for God’s sake, Trilby, you’ve got grape jelly everywhere. And go finish your homework. Leave your sister alone.”
“Jeez! I gotta do everything!”
“Yeah, your life stinks. Sorry,” she said to Eve as the boy sulked away. “Can I help you?”
“I need to talk to Brodie Fine.”
“We just got in, and he beat me to the shower.” She glanced around to check on her son, lowered her voice. “Is this about the building on Ninth? The bodies? We heard on the news,” she said when Eve said nothing. “Brodie and I were sort of half-ass dating when he did handiwork there. We’ve been talking about it most of the day. I’m one of his carpenters,” she explained. “And his wife. And the mother of his children.”
“I’d still like to talk to him.”
“Sure. Sorry. I don’t mean to keep you out in the hall. You can—” She paused as Roarke walked up to Eve.
