Survivor in Death (In Death 20)

“It has to do with the earth turning on its axis as it orbits the sun and . . .” She trailed off, catching Eve’s narrowed glare. “You’re right. Everybody should run on the same time. Dallas time. I’d vote for it. Are we going to Nebraska?”

“I’m going to do everything in my power to avoid it.” Going out in the field didn’t mean she wanted to go out in actual fields. With hay or grass or spooky corn. “Let’s try the wonder of the ’link first.”

She opened Dian Kirkendall’s file, found her sister’s data. “Turnbill, Roxanne. Age forty-three. Married to Joshua, mother of Benjamin and Samuel. Professional Mother status. Okay, Roxanne, let’s see what you know about your brother-in-law.”

The face that popped on her screen was a child’s—a boy, Eve thought, despite the sunny halo of hair. He had a big, wide open face with the dazzle of green eyes. “Hello, hi, this is Ben. Who are you?”

“Is either your mother or your father”—or any rational adult—“at home?”

“My mom’s here, but you’re supposed to say who it is, then say if you can—if you may,” he corrected, “speak with somebody.”

Now kids were lecturing her on manners. What had happened to her world? “This is Dallas. May I speak with your mother?”

“Okay.” There was a blur and a jumble on-screen, then a piercing shout. “Mom! Dallas is calling you. Can I have a cookie now?”

“One cookie, Ben. And don’t shout near the ’link. It’s rude.” The mother had the son’s curls, but in a deep brunette. Her smile wasn’t as open, but polite, and just a little annoyed around the edges. “Can I help you?”

“Mrs. Turnbill?”

“Yes. Look, we’ve blocked solicitations, so I’m sorry, but if you’ve—”

“I’m Lieutenant Dallas with the New York City Police and Security Department.”

“Oh.” Even that polite smile faded. “What is it?”

“I’m calling regarding your former brother-in-law, Roger Kirkendall.”

“Is he dead?”

“No, not to my knowledge. I’m trying to locate him for questioning in connection with a case. Do you have any information as to his whereabouts?”

“No. I can’t help you. I’ve very busy so—”

“Mrs. Turnbill, it’s very important that I locate Mr. Kirkendall. If you could tell me if you’ve had any contact—”

“I haven’t, and I don’t want any contact with him.” Her voice was strained, like a wire snapped tight. “How do I know you’re who you say you are?”

Eve held her badge to the screen. “Can you read my ID and my badge number?”

“Of course I can, but—”

“You can verify by contacting Cop Central in Manhattan. I can give you a contact number that won’t cost—”

“I’ll get the number. You’ll have to hold.”

“Careful,” Peabody noted when the screen went to holding blue. “And a little pissy.”

“Not just careful, not just pissy. A little scared on top of it.” As she waited, Eve considered. She began to calculate how long a round trip to Nebraska, including interview time, might take.

Roxanne came back on screen. “All right, Lieutenant, I’ve verified your information.” Her face was pale now. “You’re with Homicide.”

“That’s correct.”

“He’s killed someone. Dian—” She broke off, bit down on her lip as if to block words. “Who has he killed?”

“He’s wanted for questioning in the murders of at least seven people, including two police officers.”

“In New York,” she said carefully. “He killed people in New York City?”