Echoes in Death (In Death 44)

She wore black—a simple sweater and pants, with the pants tucked into knee-boots. Her eyes, a molten brown, showed signs of recent tears however clever the enhancements.

Neville hurried to her, gathered her in with an almost painful tenderness. Eve saw Rosa nod as he whispered to her.

“I’m all right. I wanted to come.”

Before she drew away, someone called her name, came to the door.

“Rosa! Hey.” Then he stopped, zeroed in on Eve. “Cops?”

As he spoke, the man touched a hand briefly to Rosa’s shoulder, then flanked her. “Why are the Icove cops here?” he demanded, shaking his head at Neville’s blank look. “Dallas and Peabody, Nev. The Icove cops.”

“Yes, yes, of course. I was distracted, didn’t put it together. My partner, Kyle Knightly. There’s been another, Kyle.”

“Another … goddamn it. Sorry, sorry, Rosie.” Kyle shoved at his dark blond hair, then shoved his hands in his pockets. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Not right now. We’ll talk later, all right?”

“Sure. I’ll be in my corner. I’m always in yours.”

With a last resentful look for Eve, he stepped out, shut the door.

“Let’s sit down, Rosa. I’ll get you some tea.”

“Tea would be good. I’d like some tea.” Rosa sat, rubbed her wedding ring. “I don’t want to say it all again. I don’t want to say again what he did.”

“Okay. I’d like to ask you if, looking back now, there was anyone who made you feel uncomfortable. Anyone who said or did anything, however minor, you felt inappropriate?”

“No. I answered that before. It wasn’t someone I knew.” She said it quickly, almost desperately. “It was a stranger.”

“Mrs. Patrick, there are similarities in all three attacks. Not only what was done, but who it was done to. We believe there’s a reason for that.”

“The second couple, they—they were older than we are, and married longer. And they didn’t live in our neighborhood or…”

“Mrs. Patrick.” Peabody interrupted gently. “We see a pattern, and that’s a good thing. That’s something we can use to identify him, to stop him, to put him away where he can’t hurt anyone else. If we can help you see the pattern we do, you might think of something that gives us another piece.”

“I didn’t know him. His face was white, like the dead, and his eyes were black, and the light in the room was dim and gray.”

She took the tea Neville brought her, but the cup rattled in the saucer, and she set it down.

“We’re not going to ask you about the specifics of the attack,” Eve told her. “The pattern, as my partner pointed out, is important. It’s what we want you to think about. It may be someone you met in passing, or your husband met, someone who did some work for you, or was involved with one of your projects, your charities. As far as we can ascertain, you were the first couple attacked. We need to figure out why. Why you were first, how you were targeted.”

“Sometimes a man might flirt a little, but nothing like you mean. It’s like—you know, Neville—Boris always asks when I’m going to leave you and run away with him. Boris is gay. He’s just being charming. And Micah, he’s one of the show runners for At Sea, he used to say we should be each other’s hall pass. That means…”

“I know,” Eve said.

“He doesn’t say it now, after this.” Pausing, she pressed her lips together, hard. “People act differently now. But Micah, I mean to say, has been with Kate for ten years. They have two children. He’s just flirting. Or was.”

“I love that show.” Peabody smiled. “At Sea. It always makes me laugh, and sometimes a laugh is the best part of a day. Does he work here, in the building?”

“He’s been with At Sea since the beginning. He works here and at home.”

“What about people who perform, who do makeup, costumes?”

“I know everyone who works in the studio.” Neville sat beside Rosa. “Rosa knows most.”

“Anyone you’ve had to let go in the last year?”

“No one. There are some who come on, of course, for a specific production, and that’s a limited time frame. We’re relatively small, privately owned. It’s almost a family at the core.”