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“That’s not the plan. Easterday has to suffer first. They have things to say to him, things to do to him. He has to beg, the way they begged. He has to know, the way they knew, begging won’t stop what’s coming.
“Hold here a second.”
She moved over to where Uniform Carmichael stepped in.
“Sorry to pull you back,” she began.
“It’s how it goes, Lieutenant.”
“It’s how this is going. I want you to supervise the canvass. We need to wake up the whole fucking block, Carmichael, dig down for any information. They had transportation, most likely a van, light colored, on the new side. Make sure every uniform has copies of Yancy’s sketches of the suspects. You’re going to need to coordinate with and work with the local PSD.”
“No problem. I’ve got a cousin on the job here. Already gave her a tag, let her know. She’ll help smooth the way if I need it.”
“Good. Let the locals secure the scene. But keep an eye. I don’t know them.”
She walked back to Roarke, Peabody, McNab.
“We’ve done a first pass on the electronics,” McNab told her. “Nothing that hits on this. I’ve got an EDD team taking everything in. You want me on that?”
“No. We’re going to hit Blake’s residence and office. You and Peabody will take the office, and the civilian and I the residence. That way we’ve each got an e-man. Anyplace to land the damn copter near Blake’s office?”
Since she would have objected, perhaps physically, to an ass pat, Roarke patted her shoulder instead. “There’s always a place.”
“Then you’ll fly back with us, and get there from wherever that place is.”
“Copter ride. Woo!” Peabody shrugged. “You had to know it was coming.”
“Reo’s working on the warrant for the electronics. Stickier when it’s a law office, but we’ve got more than enough to get it now. Until we do, turn the place inside out, but don’t touch the electronics or files.”
“Got that.”
“We’re done here for now.” She gave the hallway a last glance. “Let’s move on.”
—
On the short flight back to Manhattan, Eve kept in touch with Reo via ’link texts, read what she could of Baxter’s and Trueheart’s and Peabody’s runs on MacKensie and Downing.
“You can see it now, knowing where to look. They all travel on the same shuttle to Elsi Adderman’s memorial—coming and going. They all made annual contributions to a women’s crisis or rape center—not the same amounts, not the same center, but every one of them put some money where their issues are. None of them are in relationships. All but Downing went to Yale, and we’ll find her connection. All but Blake either dropped out or hit some skid during college. She hit hers later, that’s how it reads to me.”
“Lipski at the crisis center recognized Su, Downing, and MacKensie,” Peabody added.
“And
we now know Blake served as legal consultant there. We show Adderman’s sketch to Lipski, she’ll recognize it, too. They had their convergence there, or through the support group either before or after the memories came tumbling back.”
She turned around as Roarke touched down on a rooftop.
“This is only a block or two from the office, and another two from the apartment.”
“It’ll do.” Eve got out, reminding herself she only had to get back in once more.
She turned to Peabody and McNab as the wind buffeted around them, and Roarke bypassed security on the roof access door.
“Wait for the warrant before you hit the electronics. By the book. However you feel about it, these women are serial killers, and the last vic they can get to is already in their hands.”
“Sorry about before,” McNab began.
“Before what?” Eve said, making him smile a little as they went in and started down the stairs.
