“I’ll give you one now. That unfailing moral center of yours. So very solid and true.” He laid his hands on her shoulders, drew her in. Kissed her softly. “And then there’s the sex.”
“Figured you’d work that in.”
“As often as humanly possible. Well then.” He gave her shoulders a rub, stepped back. “There’s one thing I can do now, and that’s order in lunch for the team. Don’t,” he continued, lifting a warning finger, “give me any lip.”
“I thought you like my lip—the set of them. Look, I don’t want you to—”
“I was thinking pizza.”
Her eyes slitted; she huffed out a breath. “That’s hitting below the belt, pal.”
“I know your every weakness, Lieutenant. And this one’s topped with pepperoni.”
“Just don’t make a habit of it. The food. They’ll get greedy.”
“I th
ink your team’s steady enough to handle a few slices. I’ll take care of it, and start on the employee list.”
When he left, she closed the door behind him. She wanted to work in the quiet for a while, with minimal interruption. To think and theorize before she went back to the noise and pressures of the war room.
She brought up the files on the first investigation.
She knew these women. Their names, their faces, where they’d come from, where they’d lived, where they’d worked or studied.
A diverse group, in all but general appearance. And now she would look for one more point of origin.
Corrine, would-be actress working as a waitress, who’d squeezed in acting, dance, and vocal lessons when she could afford them. He could have played her, yes, he could have in several ways. Come to this location to audition for a part—what hungry young actress wouldn’t bite? Or come to this address on this date and time to help serve at a party. Pick up some extra cash. Possibilities.
She went down the list of names. A secretary, a grad student working on her master’s in foreign studies, a clerk in a gift shop who dabbled in pottery.
Following the string, she began to make calls, questioning people she’d interviewed nine years before.
There was a quick knock, then Peabody stuck her head in. She had a slice of pizza, half eaten, in her hand. “Pizza’s here. They’re pouncing on it like wolves. You’d better get out there if you want any.”
“Minute.”
Peabody took another bite. “You got something?”
“Maybe. Maybe.” Eve wished the scent of pizza wasn’t so damn distracting. “I’ll bring it in. Get whoever’s in the field on a headset. I want to brief everyone at once.”
“You got it.”
“Get the vics from the first investigation up on screen, with data.”
Eve gathered her notes, her discs, then tagged Mira. “I need you in the war room.”
“Ten minutes.”
“Sooner,” Eve said and clicked off.
When Eve strode into the war room, she noted that two pizzas had been demolished along with most of a third. After setting down her notes, she marched over, grabbed a slice.
“Got Jenkinson, Powell, Newkirk, and Harris on the line,” Peabody told her. “Everyone else is here.”
“Mira’s on her way. I want her take on this.” Even as Eve bit in, Feeney was coming toward her.
“You’ve got something. I can see it.”