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Then began, systematically, adding the staff of The Sanctuary.
“That’s considerable,” Roarke said when he joined her.
“They all need to be run. Peabody should have started on it.” She shot him a glance. “Do you have stuff?”
“This and that, nothing pressing.”
Which likely meant more this and a whole bunch more of that than most people handled in a week.
“If you’ve got time, and feel like it, you could contact her, see how far she’s gotten.”
“And take a few off her hands?”
“You probably shouldn’t, technically, but it would save time.”
“And I do love poking in other people’s business. I’ve time to do a bit of it.”
“I really want to go through the list of residents who fit the pattern. I can eliminate any I find who’re alive and well, or on record as deceased.”
“And get a clearer idea who might be among the remaining nine.” He touched a finger to Lupa’s photo. The sad eyes. “Will you notify the aunt?”
“Tomorrow. It’s not going to change tonight for anyone. And I’m going to take a pass on the residents—older, male. Maybe I’ll ring some bell.”
“Then I’ll play with Peabody.” But he drew Eve against him first, just held her. “It already rings bells, for both of us.”
“Yeah.” She closed her eyes a moment. Held on. “It could’ve been me. And cross the ocean to some building, it could’ve been you.”
“Were we just too smart? Or just too mean?”
“A little of both, but even the smart and mean can fall through a trapdoor. Still.” She lifted her face, kissed him. “Let’s stay smart and mean.”
“We couldn’t be otherwise.”
He went to his adjoining office, left the door open.
She went back to her desk, rubbed her hands over her face. And got down to it.
Within an hour she’d eliminated all but eighteen on the list. Some had gone on to lead what appeared to be normal, even productive lives. Others had served time, or were currently serving it as guests of various states or the feds. Some were dead, and everyone who’d died had done so violently.
Some of those eighteen, she imagined, had changed their names, forged IDs, and some had just dropped off the grid altogether.
She’d enlist EDD, or maybe Roarke, if she needed to hunt for them. But for now, she’d work with what she had.
Using the back of her board, she posted what she thought of as potentials.
She decided to copy DeWinter and the reconstructionist—maybe it would boost things there. Then she settled in to take a hard look at the male residents.
Children killed, she thought. Maybe not as often, rarely as cleverly as most of their adult counterparts. But they killed.
She’d done so herself at eight.
Not the same, she reminded herself. Stop pulling that into the mix.
She shook it off, started digging into the male residents.
She was on her second hit of coffee, had made her first dent in the list, when Roarke came back in.
“Peabody had a good start,” he began, “so we’ve got the lot done.” He laid a disc on her desk. “She’ll send your unit a copy, but I thought you’d want this as well for the file.”
