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DeWinter aimed a cool look out of sharp green eyes. “I have connections, and ways to use them. Which I’ll be doing right now. I’ll need a full report on this investigation, the profiling, and the previous victims.”
“I sent it to you about fifteen minutes ago.”
“Oh.” This time DeWinter huffed out a breath. “We really need to learn how to communicate better.”
“Right. I’ll get on that.”
“If you do, I will.”
Eve struggled back an impatient retort, mainly because DeWinter had a point. “Fine. Review what I sent you. Any questions, tag me. Morris will be working with you, and Mira’s going to make the time. I need to know everything I can know about the two vics. The feds don’t group them in with this. I do. Prove me right.”
“I prove you right, you buy me a drink.”
“Sure, whatever. I’m pressed here.”
“So am I now. I’ll get back to you.”
Eve took a moment, pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. Thought: Coffee.
She started to rise when Peabody’s pink boots clomped toward her office.
“I’ve got data on Jansen – our potential first vic.” Her gaze flicked to the board where Eve had already added his photo.
“Based in Columbus, Ohio. He was an efficiency expert. Businesses hired him to come in, give them advice on, well, efficiency. Where to cut expenses, where to add stuff. Age forty-three, divorced, no kids. Nobody had reported him missing for about a week because he worked independently for the most part, and had just finished a job in Fort Smith. He was on his way to Bentonville, and had a few days off in there. He’d rented a pewter Priority sedan in Fort Smith. 2060 model, Shining Silver exterior. That’s apparently in the wind. A lot of traffic bumps, no criminal. Made a good living, had a good rep, spent about thirty-six weeks a year on the road, and apparently liked it. More colleagues and clients than friends – my take – and boxed a little in college. Kept in shape.”
“Put up a fight, more than expected. You see a guy in a nice car, traveling alone. You want the nice car, and don’t figure to have much trouble. He gives you trouble, ends up dead. More colleagues and clients than friends,” Eve mused. “Less likely to stop for a couple or another man. So the woman still leads my theory there. I’m betting she’s got some looks. He got out of the car. If she’d been hitching, or just flagged him down, no need to get out.”
“A breakdown, or she pretends she’s hurt so he gets out to help her.”
“Breakdown leads. They had to get to where they were, and it’s not easy walking distance to anywhere much that I can see. Did anyone know what he might have had on him, with him?”
“Luggage – an efficient packer, as you’d expect. Two good suits, some shirts, ties, underwear, toiletries, workout gear. Two pair dress shoes, two pair running shoes. A tablet, a PPC, two ’links, some cash – he’d withdrawn eight hundred from the autobank in Fort Smith the afternoon of his departure. His immediate supervisor said they all carry a decent amount of cash for tips. Good tips, apparently, lead to more efficient service. Business credit card and two personal. None have been used since he left Fort Smith. He had a good wrist unit. I’ve got the make and model, and started a search. Same for his electronics.”
“Get sizes.”
“Sorry?”
“On the clothes, the shoes. If they didn’t sell them, and likely within a few days along the projected route, then they used them. If they used them, we’d have a body type, a shoe size.”
“Huh. Who’d have thought of that?”
“I thought of that. Get the sizes, see if one of those colleagues or clients can zero in on descriptions of the clothes he’d have packed. If not, try his hotels. He’d have used laundry service somewhere.”
“On it. Ah, Dallas?”
“What? I need to finish updating Whitney.”
“I got a civilian liaison to show Banner around – and told him about The Eatery, such as it is.”
“Okay, great. Go away.”
“Dallas, he doesn’t have anywhere to stay – in New York.”
“There are a zillion places to stay in New York.”
Peabody’s puppy-dog eyes should’ve warned her, but Eve was distracted.
“Yeah, he asked if I could recommend a hotel, maybe close to Central. He’s been going for about thirty hours straight now, and, well, he’s on his own nickel. I get the impression deputies in Silby’s Pond are more underpaid even than detectives in New York.”
