Kindred In Death

It was a perfectly timed bomb. Reporters scrambled, shouting, checking ’links and PPCs.

“I’m here to answer questions pertaining to the investigation of the Deena MacMasters homicide.”

“And I just gave you one.” Nadine pushed forward. “Isn’t it true that the body of another victim was found only this morning? That she, too, was bound, raped, murdered by strangulation?”

Eve’s stare might have bored through steel. “We have not determined if the two cases are co

“But there are very specific parallels.”

“And there are specific differences.”

“What differences?”

Eve allowed the leading edge of anger to snap out. “I ca

“Do you believe these two women were victims of a serial sexual predator?”

The bomb shot shrapnel throughout the room. Eve shouted over the chaos. “We have drawn no such conclusion. We have drawn no conclusion at this time that these cases are related.”

“But you don’t discount the possibility of serial. Or copycat.”

“I will not speculate. I will not feed you-any of you-speculation or conclusions so you can bump your ratings. Two women-one barely old enough to qualify for the term-are dead. That should be enough to spin your current media cycle.”

She strode away, fury in every step.

“Lieutenant!” Whitney’s sharp command stopped her. “With me. Now.”

“Yes, sir.”

She followed him into the media ready room, where he closed the door.

“Well. Your performance was exceptional. I hope to God it generates exceptional results.”

“We couldn’t keep a lid on the Robins homicide for long. Bringing it out like this, it makes it look like we’re caught flat-footed, like we’re still a dozen steps behind. If he thinks we’re looking at serial or copycat, he’ll feel smug. We have a chance at the memorial tomorrow. And we may be able to get a line on him through the co

“Work it. Brief your team. And consider yourself thoroughly dressed down for allowing a media leak of this nature to get through.”

“Yes, sir.”

She headed straight to her office, putting what she hoped was enough restrained fury on her face, in her stride, to ward off any cops who might approach her to offer support, or to wheedle information.

Roarke turned from the AutoChef as she slammed her office door to punctuate the moment. He held out a mug of coffee.

“Victor, spoils,” he said.

“Huh?”

“Just a little reward for your part in that well-timed duet. I think it should play very well, and be lapped up by most. On the other hand, I know you, and Nadine. She wouldn’t have ambushed you that way, and you’d have taken her down harder if she had.”

“Let’s hope the intended audience does some of the lapping. I don’t like using Karlene Robins that way.”

“It doesn’t diminish the truth, or what you’ll do.”

“A day late for her, and a hell of a lot more than a dollar short.”

She would think that way, he knew. It made her what she was. “I hear-as the grapevine climbs quickly-that you were already taking steps to inform and protect those co

“I knew it was co

“Eve, don’t do this. The data wasn’t there to be found. There was no Irene Schultz to show up on your search of rape-murder victims. The very nature of who these people are-were-may be tomorrow-makes it tricky and time-consuming to find them. Consider the fact you found this co

“I know you can’t save them all. I know it. But when you have to swallow that hours would have made the difference, it doesn’t go down easy. She was getting married on Saturday. Robins.”

“Ah. Well.” Following instinct he put his hands on her shoulders, drew her in.

“I’m standing in that apartment where she lived with the man she was marrying in a couple days, and I’m seeing all that wedding junk. Like at Louise’s. Goddamn it, Roarke.”

He said nothing. There was nothing to be said.

“I know you can’t save them all,” she repeated. “I know you can’t catch them all, and even some you catch will slither through the system. But this one’s not going to. Sick, smug son of a bitch.”

“All right then. What’s next?”

She stepped away. “We interview all those involved in the Irene Schultz matter, and we find out if he’s made contact with anyone’s daughter, son, sister, brother, mother, father, second cousin twice removed. We set up for tomorrow’s memorial. We work the case. We push on the electronics. And why aren’t you huddled with your EDD pals?”

“We’ll discuss that at the briefing.”

“Then let’s get started.”

In the conference room, Eve gave a brief overview of the investigation for the benefit of the members she’d added to the team. She followed it with a report on the early steps of the Robins case.

“Peabody.”

“After the notification to Hampton, I went to City Choice. I spoke with the vic’s supervisor and two of her coworkers. None of them could identify the suspect by the pictures we have. It’s not unusual for a client not to come in to the offices, and in fact, more usual for the real estate agent to meet same at a property or another location.”

“Handy for him.”

“All three individuals I spoke with recall the vic speaking of a Drew Pittering, and one, specifically recalls the vic telling her she’d tapped a new client when he contacted her. Her office log lists a contact from Pittering on May fifteenth, with the note he was looking most specifically for space in SoHo, and his preferences for same. It also lists meeting him at two properties in that sector, and providing him with two virtual tours of other locations. Finally, it lists her appointment with him at the SoHo loft for nine-thirty a.m., yesterday.”

“Reineke, Jenkinson, you’ll follow up with the other properties, knock on doors, show the photo. Peabody,” she repeated.

“EDD has all the electronics from her home and her work space, as well as those from the crime scene. With a grief counselor I notified the victim’s parents.” She let out a breath. “Um. When questioned, Jaynie Robins did not immediately recall Irene Schultz or the case. She agreed to come into Central today to speak with the lieutenant, and stated she would look through her archive of case notes and files to try to refresh herself on the matter. The fact is, she was pretty shaken up, and I’m not sure she was taking in any of the details on this old case. I left them with the grief counselor, and they’ll be escorted in shortly.”

“Okay. Good work. Feeney, progress?”

“I’m going to pass this to the civilian.”

When Eve looked toward Roarke, Feeney shook his head. “Wrong civilian. Brief the lieutenant, Jamie.”

“McNab and I have been putting in some long hours on this, and back with Feeney and Roarke and a couple of the others upstairs. But we just couldn’t figure any way to speed the cleaning process. Not with the extent of the corruption. Then Roarke said something about trying to split another matrix clone on a second JPL and merge texels with the corrupted pixels and stir up the ppi to defuck the bitmapping.”

“Did you say defuck?” Eve asked. “Is that a technical term?”

“Ah, it just sort of expresses the procedure. See, for this particular application, the regions are made up of supixels, and when infected the standard triad-”

“Stop the madness.” She resisted, barely, just slapping her hands over her ears. “I’m begging you.”