Eve didn’t wait for the bag and tag. What was the point? Instead, she walked into the bedroom where Laurence headed up what looked to her like a thorough and meticulous search.
“Anything?”
“High-dollar sheets, towels, nice fluffy duvet. We can trace them. Some he took with him. He’s obsessively organized, everything in its place, so we can see some sheets and towels are missing. Some clothes, some shoes.”
He gestured toward the closet. “He’s got a dozen ties in there, and from the way he had them stored, took another dozen with him. Who needs two dozen ties?”
Eve crossed over to look for herself. “He likes clothes, likes to collect. But . . . some of these ties are exactly the same. Or is that just my crappy eye for fashion.”
“If it is, it’s mine, too. Same pattern, same designer.”
“That’s not like him. And there’s too much here, not just to leave behind but too much in the first place. This isn’t so much collecting as it is—”
“Hoarding,” Laurence finished. “That was my take. Could be he needed to hoard to compensate for a dozen years in prisonwear.”
“Could be. But it’s another break in pattern. That’s interesting.”
“Yeah, it is, isn’t it. So. We’ll take the laundry in for anal. The only toiletries left are the partner’s. Had to be a D-and-C there on that desk, so he took that. Had a monitor in the bathroom there so he could watch his holding room when he jerked fucking off. Sorry,” he said immediately. “The kid, she got to me.”
“Understood.”
“He left a supply of syringes in the bathroom, again some missing.”
“He doesn’t use, so he wouldn’t need as many of them. He’s not going to hook up with a partner yet.”
“Partner had a couple drawers, and it looked like he took a quick pass through, making sure she didn’t have anything that linked back to him. He didn’t check behind or under the drawers.” He gestured to the bags, sealed and tagged for evidence. “She kept stashes—a freaking pharmacy.”
She’d done the same long ago, Eve thought, as quick, blurry flickers of memories ran through her head. “She’d need to know it was there, in case he ran low or tried to cut her off.”
“And she liked variety. What we’re finding, so far, is more of her than him. And we can judge where something was and isn’t now, and what it likely would’ve been. Forensic-wise, we’ll have enough to put the bastard away for twice as long as we already did, but nothing right yet to tell us where he’s running.”
“Maybe he said something to one of the vics,” Eve speculated. “Maybe he didn’t figure on them getting out, not alive, and he likes to show his intellect. I’m going in to talk with them, maybe I’ll get something.”
She walked out and up to Roarke who’d found a corner to work on his PPC.
“The feds should be getting the data about now,” he told her. “Feeney and I have a long jump on them, though I’ll do better when I’m back at the hotel office, using that equipment.”
“We’re done here, for now. You can go back, dig into it.”
He tracked his gaze to hers, held it. “I’m with you, Lieutenant. I’ve already made that clear. You need to stop at the hospital, talk with Melinda and Darlie.”
“Yeah, but I want to do something first.” She shook her head to hold off questions. “On the way.”
Outside, she took a scan of the street. The lookie-loos and bystanders had dispersed—by boredom, she expected. Cop work was long and tedious, and most civilians lost interest pretty fast.
But not her civilian.
“Did you pay off the kid, the airboard kid?”
“I did, yes, and someone named Ben for the loan of his truck.”
“Put in a chit for expenses. I’ll make it good.”
“One way or the other,” he said casually as they got in the car. “Where are we going?”
“I need to go back to her place. They’ll have done a search by now, taken the electronics, whatever other evidence they turned up. But people miss things, especially when they’re not sure what they’re looking for.”
“And you do?”