“Yes. I need open spaces. I’d go crazy, for instance, in your office. You spoke with Louise?”
“She contacted you?”
“No. But you strike me as a thorough woman. I assume you checked my license, my record, my background, and spoke with Louise before deciding to talk to me again. You’d consider it necessary.”
“Louise said you were the black sheep.”
Celina came out, carrying a tray with a squat white pot and two fragile-looking white cups and saucers. She shot Eve a wry smile. “Yes, that’s accurate. My family disapproves, and is mildly embarrassed not only by my gift but that I choose to make a living from it.”
“You don’t need the money.”
“Not for financial security.” She crossed the room to set the tray on the table. “But for personal satisfaction. In your circumstances, Lieutenant, you hardly need the salary the police department pays you. But I imagine you collect it just the same.”
She poured two cups of tea, passed one to Peabody. “I can’t stop thinking about Elisa. I don’t want to think of her. I don’t want to be part of this. But I have to.”
“The NYPSD may hire and attach, at the primary’s request, expert consultants, civilians.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Celina arched one dark eyebrow. “And did I pass the audition?”
“So far. If you’re willing and able to serve as such on this matter, you’ll be required to sign a contract. The contract will include a gag order, preventing you, by law, from discussing any aspect of the investigation.”
“I’ve no desire to discuss any aspect of the investigation. If I agree to do this, I require you to sign a document ensuring that my name, my association with the investigation, will not be given to the media.”
“So you said before. You’ll be paid a fee—standard rate.” Eve held out a hand to Peabody, waited while Peabody took documents out of her bag. “You’ll want to read these over. You’re free to consult a lawyer or legal representative before signing.”
“You’re giving your word, I’m giving mine. I don’t need a lawyer for that.” But she crossed her legs, settled back, and read each document carefully. “I don’t have a pen.”
Peabody pulled one out, offered it. Celina signed both documents, handed the pen off to Eve.
“Well, that’s that, isn’t it?” Celina let out a breath after Eve scrawled her name on each contract. “That’s that. What do I do?”
“Tell me again exactly what you saw.” Eve laid a recorder on the table. “For the record.”
She went through it again, closing her eyes from time to time as she repeated details. Her hands didn’t shake, and her voice stayed strong and steady, but Eve watched her pale, degree by degree as she recounted the murder.
“And where were you when you saw this happen?”
“Upstairs. In bed. My security was on, all night, as always. I have full alarms, and cameras on all doors. You’re welcome to take the discs into evidence, check them.”
“I will. It covers both of us. Have you had any visions since night before last?”
“No. Just a . . . a sense of dread, and a feeling of anticipation. That could be my own nerves.”
“Peabody? Evidence bag.”
Saying nothing, Peabody took out a length of red corded ribbon, sealed. “Do you recognize this, Ms. Sanchez?”
“Celina.” Even her lips had gone white. “It looks like what he used on her.”
Eve unsealed the bag, held the ribbon
out. “Take it. Tell me what you see.”
“All right.” Celina set down her cup, then rubbed her palms nervously on her thighs. She breathed slowly, then took the ribbon.
She ran it through her fingers, kept her gaze fixed on it. “I don’t . . . nothing comes, nothing clear. Maybe I need time to prepare, maybe I need solitude.” Baffled frustration ran over her face. “I thought . . . I expected more. I was so sure that I’d get something since I had this connection. I know he used this to kill her. They both touched it, but I get nothing.”
Eve took the ribbon, resealed it, handed it back to Peabody. “Why do you think you didn’t see his face that night? You saw hers.”