“We don’t have much, and nothing that adds at this point.”
“Baxter?”
“Stewart, Adam. You’ve got him up there. Sister, Amie Stewart’s one of the vics.”
“Trust fund babies.” Eve flipped through her list of victims. “She was in-house legal for Dynamo. And he’s currently unemployed, and borrowing heavily from the trust.”
“We got some of that,” Baxter continued. “Plus he buzzed. He’s got something going. He’s off, Dallas. And he was jittery, trying to pull off the grieving sib, comfort the parents. It didn’t play. We earmarked him, too.”
“Bring him in. Toast him some.”
He gave her two more, another of which crossed with hers.
She called on Jenkinson and Reineke, got four with three crosses.
“Prioritize the board, Peabody. Stewart, Adam—connect to Stewart, Amie. Berkowitz, Ivan—connect to Quinz, Cherie. Callaway
, Lewis—connect to Cattery, Joseph. Burke, Analisa—connect to Burke, John. McBride, Sean, connect to Garrison, Paul. Add Lester, Devon, manager of the bar, and Lester, Christopher, his brother, a chemist.
“These are the next wave of interviews. Work them. Dig in for a connection to the Red Horse cult, the cover-up. I want their financials and electronics gone over in detail. Peabody and I will take the Lesters.”
She handed out other assignments, legwork, drone work, to uniforms, scheduled a briefing at four.
Whitney stood. “We’ll issue a statement to the media this morning, and hold a media conference at thirteen hundred. I’ll need you to meet with the liaison, Lieutenant, in an hour.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Handpick two more uniforms or detectives to assist in the search for sources of the chemicals and illegals. You’re cleared for it.”
“I’d like Detective Strong from Illegals, Commander, if she’s up for it.”
“Make it happen. You’ll need more to run the tip line after the media breaks this. One hour, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir. Get moving,” she told the team. “Peabody, contact Lester, Devon. Ask him to come in. Just a follow-up.”
“And the brother?”
“Not until Devon’s in the house. We’ll send a couple of stern-faced uniforms to bring him in. I need to reconnect with Morris, with Dickhead. And I want to go back to the scene. Get Devon in here asap, and we’ll take him after I meet the liaison, shift to the brother, then go out in the field.”
“On it.”
Eve turned back to the board, started toward it.
“Eve.” Mira moved to her. “You have an hour now. Why don’t we go to my office?”
“I really should—” Get it over with, she reminded herself. “Sure. I’ll be there in five.”
7
Eve approached the dragon who guarded Mira’s office expecting her to sniff in disapproval and tell her to wait. Instead the woman spared Eve a brief nod.
“The doctor’s expecting you. Go right in.”
With no choice, no reasonable excuse, Eve stepped into Mira’s sunny, comfortable office.
“You’re very prompt.” Mira stood by her little AutoChef. “I’m just getting tea. Sit down, relax a minute.”
“I’m kind of pressed.”