Delusion in Death (In Death 35)

“We haven’t got a line on him, Feeney. He’s scored over a hundred and twenty dead, and we haven’t got a line.”

“Start at the top, work it through again. There’s always something there, kid.”

“Yeah.” She let her gaze skim over the heads of the crowd to the buildings. Somewhere around here, she thought. You’re somewhere around here, you fuck.

Reineke jogged over. “Lieutenant, there’s somebody over here you’re going to want to talk to.”

She walked through the busy medicals to where Jenkinson stood with a plump blonde. Tears and tissues had smeared her eye makeup into black and lavender bruises. She wore New York black—jacket, sweater, pants, with short-heeled boots, and trembled as she bit at her nails.

“Lydia, this is Lieutenant Dallas.” Jenkinson used his trusted uncle tone. “I want you to tell her what you told me. Okay?”

“I’m—I’m looking for Cellie and Brenda. We were having lunch.”

“In Café West?”

Fresh tears swam in terrified brown eyes, spilling through the makeup bruises. “Yeah. In there. We were in there.”

Not a mark on her, Eve observed. “What time did you leave the café?”

“I’m not exactly sure. A little after one, I guess. We were having lunch.”

“What time did you get there?”

“I—we—Well, we left the office about twelve-thirty, but the elevator was really slow, so that took forever. But it’s only a little walk, maybe five minutes. And we got a table, ’cause they go fast. Then we went up to the counter to order. It’s faster that way. I got a salad, just a plain salad. A little one because I’m on a diet. I was in a bad mood because I was hungry, I guess. I was really bitchy with them, even when Cellie said I could have half her sandwich. I was bitchy, and I left.”

“They stayed to have lunch, and you left, just a little after one. Did you have a headache, Lydia?”

“How did you know? I started to get a headache, and I just wanted to leave. It was crowded and noisy, and I was hungry, and my head started to hurt. I walked out, and walked around. I felt kind of sick, then I felt better. I felt bad, you know, because I’d been so bitchy. I thought I should come back. Tell them I was sorry, walk back to the office with them. But the police were here, and people were yelling. People were hurt and crying, and I can’t find my friends.”

“We’ll look for them. You come here a lot, on your lunch hour?”

“Sure. It’s close, and the food’s good. But you have to get here before one, or you’re not going to get a table.”

“How did everything seem when you left?”

“Like usual, I guess.” Her eyes shifted, lowered, shifted again. “Except …”

“Except?”

“I looked back when I got to the door, and Brenda was looking at me, really mean. She’s not mean. I’ve never seen her look at anybody like that. It just made me so mad. I almost went back to the table. I wanted to punch her. I’ve never punched anybody. Now I can’t find her.”

“Reineke, get the full names of Lydia’s friends so we can find them.”

She signaled to Jenkinson, pulled him over. “I want her examined. Get her to the hospital, have them run a tox, examine her nasal passages, her throat. She won’t want to go. Convince her.”

“I’ll take care of it. How many, LT?”

“Forty-one. It looks like sixteen survivors, at this point. We may find more, like Lydia, who got out before it took a strong hold. Get her examined,” Eve repeated, and moved fast to find Feeney.

“I’ve got a time line,” she told him. “We got a wit who was in there with friends, but left—felt a headache coming on as she walked out. They got there approximately twelve-forty, and she left just after one. First on scene pulled up at thirteen-eleven. The vics inside were still infected.”

“It hit about the time your wit left. We’ll focus on twelve-thirty to one-fifteen, to cover it. Cams were operational. I’ll run the discs back at the house.”

“Run it with face recognition, using the faces we have leaving the bar or connected to vics.” She pushed at her hair. “We’ll bump the briefing until eighteen hundred.”

She scanned the street, the buildings. “He was here, Feeney. But he had to know about the cams. How could he risk popping on the security disc in both places? Can’t. He found another way to get it in this location—or both. Or there’s more than one of them, and they took turns. He had to leave about the same time the wit did. Hefty blonde, black pants and jacket. I want to see everyone coming and going about five minutes before up to five minutes after the wit.”

“I’m heading back now. Do you want to keep McNab?”