Brotherhood in Death (In Death 42)

And five women, bound together.

She took the next incoming—Yancy’s work.

“Computer, run a search for properties within twenty-five miles of Yale University that carry no less than an eighty percent match with the house in sketch two, and are no less than fifty years old. Identify same whether or not the house still exists. Copy to my home unit, all search results.”

Search parameters acknowledged. Working . . .

“You do that, and so will I.”

And rubbed the tension in her neck at yet another incoming.

“Eve,” Mira began. “I wish I could give you more.”

“Inner Peace?”

“In more ways than one. Privacy laws, even from medical to medical, are very strict, and very clear. But, as I could already verify Su and MacKensie were guests, that eased the way a bit. While their individual therapists and group leaders couldn’t give details, professional courtesy counts for some. We’ll say they alluded to certain information, and/or didn’t contradict my conclusions. Both women sought help for recurring nightmares. Violent ones. And both engaged in therapy to release repressed memories. These details are corroborated by the insomnia studies Su and Downing participated in.”

“Okay. Every details helps the whole.”

“I can tell you this. Both of them registered for women-only areas, and sessions. My research there indicates those areas are primarily focused on physical and sexual abuse victims. Some confidence building, yes, some spiritual searching. But the main focus of that area of the center is for abuse victims. Rape victims.”

“They’ve gone to ground.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“The three of them, and at least one more. Gone to ground.”

“One more.”

“There are five. Su, MacKensie, and Downing packed some things and left their apartments this morning. I have one unidentified woman—as yet—on the security feed of Su’s building. And I have five sketches from a painting seen in Downing’s apartment. Ages range from mid-forties to early twenties.”

For a moment, Mira said nothing. “I would conclude, on the basis of known evidence, the killings are revenge for sexual abuse, rape, assaults, that have gone on for many years, involving many victims.”

“We agree. I have to keep on this. Anything else you can dig out, I want it.”

“Five, Eve. With that much of an age span. You have only to fill in the blanks to see the probability.”

“Yeah. There are a lot more than five. I’ll be in touch,” Eve said, and clicked off.

She rose, grabbed her coat, headed out.

“Baxter, Trueheart, everything you get copy to my office and my home comp. I may not make it back. Peabody, the same.”

“But—”

“I’m heading to the Bronx—Betz’s bank box—and unless I need to, I’m not coming back into Central. Yancy’s doing the face recognition on the two unknown women in Downing’s painting, and I’ve got one going on the house in the second painting. We get hits, I’ll pull you in, if necessary. Otherwise, I want you digging every byte of data there is to dig. These five women’s paths crossed somewhere—and we only have three of the five for certain. I want to know where and when on all of them.”

She headed for the glide—just couldn’t face the elevator all the way to the garage this time. And pulled out her signaling ’link.

“Dallas. Tell me you got the warrant.”

“I will have by the time you pick me up,” Reo told her.

“What? Why?”

“Because banks are notoriously fussy. You can use a lawyer. Plus when you have me wrangling this many warrants in one day, I deserve a field trip.”

“It’s the freaking Bronx.” Impatient, Eve wound through people content to just stand and ride down.