Brotherhood in Death (In Death 42)

“I dug for it, and what I found was mother-type pride data on her kid. Pictures like this, which show she was a pretty young thing, with a pretty young boyfriend—also bright, went on to Harvard. And about seven months after this picture was taken, she’s all but flunked out of Yale and living back home.”

“All right. She’s pretty, and she didn’t realize her potential.”

“More. A couple months after moving home, she’s moving out, and into a flop on Avenue A with a skank. The word fits. Long sheet, even then, for illegals possession, for selling Bounce to an undercover, for soliciting sex—no license. Where’d they hook up? Where’s the common ground?”

“The pretty young thing was using.”

“Bet your fine Irish ass. No record of it, but an eighteen-year-old girl doesn’t jump from New Rochelle and proud mom to Alphabet City and the skank unless the skank was her connection. A few months later, she’s back home again.”

“Which is likely why she’s still alive or not in prison.”

“Skank’s in year three of five for agg assault. MacKensie lived back home for two years, and during that time did her own stint. Two three-month stints at Inner Peace. I had to dig, way down, as it’s billed as a lifestyle enhancement center, not rehab. Guess who else did some time at Inner Peace?”

“My money and the look in your eyes say either Su or Downing.”

“Su. Not at the same time, which is annoying, but they both went to Yale, both went to this lifestyle deal. Su took a sabbatical, three years ago, and did the lifestyle enhancement deal. Prior to that, I’ve got her in this program—this study on insomnia. And, what a coincidence! Charity Downing also took part in a program—again, not at the same time—on insomnia.”

“That’s too many connections even for a devil’s advocate.” Because it was the only thing there, Roarke picked the tube of Pepsi, took a swig. “It’s gone warm.”

“Still does the job. Here’s how I see it.”

She rose, gestured to the board as she paced. “These three women had some previous encounter with the victim. Sexual. That encounter was disturbing enough or intense enough to send MacKensie into a sharp downward spiral. The probability is each of them sought help for, we’ll say side effects of that encounter at some point. And through that, the three of them come together.”

Eve interlinked her fingers. “Two of the three hook up with the vic again. I don’t guess you had time to check with hotel security on Su.”

“I did, in fact. I can tell you she doesn’t show up on any feed through the hotel in the last eighteen months.”

“Not surprised. Pretty sure she’s gay.” When he lifted his eyebrows, she shrugged. “Not because she didn’t show on the feed. Because I’ve got some photos of her, too. Big-deal science award ceremony—her date’s female. A White House dinner deal—female date. Then there’s her interview in this big-deal science journal where she says she’s gay, that leans me in that direction.”

She circled the board again. “These three women know each other, they knew Edward Mira, and my gut says they conspired together and killed him. Considering the nature of the torture, I’d say it’s serious payback. It’s payback for sexual assault, molestation, or rape because three women don’t come together to torture and kill because they had a fling with a married man.”

Shifting, Roarke studied the photos of Edward Mira. The soberly handsome statesman—and the murder victim.

“You believe a former United States senator was a serial rapist?”

“Yeah, I do.” Eve heaved out a breath. “Yeah, I fucking do. That’s how it lays out for me. Proving it? That’s a whole different ball of string.”

“Wax, but never mind that. Eve, trying to prove it is going to take you into very dangerous waters.”

“I’m a strong swimmer.”

“You are that,” he agreed. “But it’s also going to bring you personal pain.”

“I can’t let that get in the way. You know that.”

“I do.” He set the tube aside, went to her. “I love you.”

She shifted. “Yeah, same goes.”

He cupped her face in his hands, kept his eyes on hers. “I love you.”

Her heart stuttered, so she cupped his face in turn. “I love you, and what you’re telling me is we’ll get through this.”

“I am.”

“Even if you end up pouring a soother down my throat.”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.” Firmly, he pressed his lips to her forehead. “You’ll do what has to be done, and so will I.”