“I’m as chilly as I’m going to get,” Eve decided after he’d moved off to join Tibble. She checked the time. “It’s early for anyone who was on Napier’s shift, but let’s take a shot at O’Hara’s.”
Her pocket ’link signaled. “Hell,” she muttered when the readout warned her it was Nadine.
“I’ve made my statement, answered the questions. I’m done, Nadine.”
“I’m not calling as a reporter. Give me five minutes.”
She’d sneak, Eve thought, she’d prevaricate, but she wouldn’t lie.
“Heading down to the garage. Can you get in there?”
The smirk twisted her lips. “Please.”
“Level One, Section Three. I don’t have time to wait for you.”
She didn’t have to wait. Nadine was already there, and the fact that she was idly buffing her fingernails told Eve she wanted to rub it in a little.
“I know this is your slot,” Nadine began. “But since when is this your ride?”
Eve skimmed a hand over the fender of the shiny blue vehicle. Soon, when she was absolutely sure of privacy, she might just kiss it.
“Since my devious partner used the right bribe on the right person.”
“Go, Peabody.”
“It was nothing. A couple vids of Dallas naked in the shower, and we’re cruising.”
“Very funny. What do you want, Nadine? I’m on a tight schedule.”
“Breen Merriweather.” There was no smirk now.
“You have information?”
“I don’t know that I do. I’ve very carefully asked some questions,” she added before Eve could speak. “I know how to ask questions, and I comprehend all manner of things, including we will not discuss or disclose. Asking questions with the idea that Breen was one of this bastard’s targets puts a different complexion on the answers. She made an offhand comment, a few nights before she disappeared, to some of the tech crew.”
“What comment?”
“Coffee-break talk, some of the girl techs. One of them man-hunting. No good men left in the city. No big strong heroes, blah, blah. And Breen said she should come ride home with her some night. There was this big, silent type starting to ride her train. She made some joke about that old horse—you know, the size of a man’s thumbs indicating the size of his equipment. Said this guy must be hung like a bull because his hands were the size of turkey platters.”
“That it?”
“No.” She pushed at her h
air. “They were joking around, just chilling. So there was a lot of how big is he, Breen, and your expected lewd conversation. She—Breen—she said she’d pass him to one of the other girls, because he wasn’t her type. She liked men with hair, and he was probably an asshole anyway, because he always wore sunshades. Middle of the night, and he’s wearing sunshades.”
“Okay.”
“It had to be him.”
“A lot of people ride the subway at night, Nadine. Some of them are men. Some of the men are large. But yeah, it’s possible.”
“Trains have security cams.”
“Yeah, they do.” It was hard to look at hope, insistent hope, in the eyes of a friend. “And the discs are recycled every thirty days. She’s been gone a lot longer than that.”
“But you could—”
“I’ll look into it.”