“Yes. you can. I’m going to take care of her.” Eve laid her hands over Samantha’s. “I promise you, I’ll take care of her for you. Come on now.” Gently, she helped Samantha to her feet. She wrapped an arm around the distraught woman’s waist as she led her to the door. She wanted her out before the team had finished in the bedroom. “Is your husband home?”

“Yes. He’s home with the children. We have two children. Two years, and six months. Tony’s home with the children.”

“Good. What’s your address?”

The shock was settling in. Eve hoped the numbness she could read on Samantha’s face would help as the woman recited an upscale address in Westchester.

“Officer Banks.”

“Yes, lieutenant.”

“Take Mrs. Bennett home. I’ll call for another officer for the door. Stay with the family as long as you’re needed.”

“Yes, sir.” With compassion, Banks guided Samantha toward the elevators. “This way, Mrs. Bennett,” she murmured.

Samantha leaned drunkenly on Banks. “You’ll take care of her?”

Eve met Samantha’s ravaged eyes. “I promise.”

• • •

An hour later, Eve walked into the station house with a cat under her arm.

“Hey there, lieutenant, caught yourself a cat burglar.” The desk sergeant snorted at his own humor.

“You’re a laugh riot, Riley. Commander still here?”

“He’s waiting for you. You’re to go up as soon as you show.” He leaned forward to scratch the purring cat. “Hooked yourself another homicide?”

“Yeah.”

A kissing sound had her glancing over at a leering hunk in a spandex jumpsuit. The jumpsuit, and the blood trickling at the side of his mouth were approximately the same color. His accessories were a set of thin, black restraints that secured one arm to a nearby bench. He rubbed his crotch with his free hand and winked at her.

“Hey, baby. Got something here for you.”

“Tell Commander Whitney I’m on my way,” she told Riley as the desk sergeant rolled his eyes.

Unable to resist, she swung by the bench, leaned close enough to smell sour vomit. “That was a charming invitation,” she murmured, then arched a brow when the man peeled open his fly patch and wagged his personality at her. “Oh, look, kitty. A teeny-tiny little penis.” She smiled, leaned just a bit closer. “Better take care of it, asshole, or my pussy here might mistake it for a teeny-tiny little mouse and bite it off.”

It made her feel better to see what there was of his pride and joy shrivel before he closed his flaps. The good humor lasted almost until she stepped into the elevator and ordered Commander Whitney’s floor.

He was waiting, with Feeney, and the report she’d transmitted directly from the crime scene. In the nature of the repetition required in police work, she went over the same ground verbally.

“So that’s the cat,” Feeney said.

“I didn’t have the heart to dump him on the daughter in the state she was in.” Eve shrugged. “And I couldn’t very well just leave him there.” With her free hand, she reached into her bag. “Her discs. Everything’s labeled. I scanned through her appointments. The last one of the day was at six-thirty. John Smith. The weapon.” She laid the bagged weapon on Commander Whitney’s desk. “Looks like Ruger P-ninety.”

Feeney took a look, nodded. “You’re learning, kid.”

“I’ve been boning up.”

“Early twenty-first, probably oh eight, oh nine.” Feeney stated as he turned the sealed weapon in his hands. “Prime condition. Serial number’s intact. Won’t take long to run it,” he added, but moved his shoulders. “But he’s too smart to use a registered.”

“Run it,” Whitney ordered, and gestured to the auxiliary unit across the room. “I’ve got surveillance on your building, Dallas. If he tries to slip you another disc, we’ll spot him.”

“If he stays true to form, it’ll be within twenty-four hours. He’s holding to the pattern so far, though each of his victims has been a distinctly different type: with DeBlass you’ve got the glitz, the sophistication; with Starr you’ve got fresh, childlike; and with this one, we’ve got comfort, still young but mature.

“We’re still interviewing neighbors, and I’m going to hit the family again, look into the divorce. It looks to me like she took this guy spur of the moment. She had a standing date with her daughter for Tuesdays. I’d like Feeney to run her ’link, see if he called her direct. We’re not going to be able to keep this from the media, commander. And they’re going to hit us hard.”

Tags: J.D. Robb In Death Mystery
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