“Yes, sir.”
“Victim is identified through fingerprints as Lily Napier, age twenty-eight. Listed address is 293 Vesey Street, apartment 5C.”
You were pretty, Lily, Eve thought, as she studied the ID picture on her screen. Soft, slight. A little shy.
“Employed O’Hara’s Bar and Grill, Albany Street. Walking home from work, weren’t you, Lily? It’s not very far. Saves the transpo fare, and it’s a warm night. It’s your neighborhood. You’d walk through the park, and then you’d be home.”
She fit on goggles, examined the hands, the nails. Death hadn’t yet leeched all the heat from her body.
“Looks like dirt, some grass. We can hope for fibers or skin. Broken wrist, looks like a broken jaw. Multiple contusions and abrasions on face, torso, shoulders. Did a number on you, Lily. Appearance of sexual assault. Some evidence of vaginal bleeding. Contusions, abrasions on thighs and genital area. Removing some fibers into evidence.”
She worked meticulously, plucking tiny fibers from the body, never flinching as she took them from the genital area.
She sealed them tagged them, logged them.
And if part of her system revolted, much as the rookie’s had, if part of her wanted to scream at the visions of rape, she refused them and continued on.
Still wearing the goggles, she leaned down into the dead face and studied the bloody holes where the eyes had been.
“Smooth, clean cuts, similar to those inflicted on Elisa Maplewood.”
“Dallas.”
“Peabody.” She didn’t look around, and thought only briefly that she had missed, for some reason, the telltale clomp of Peabody’s uniform shoes. “We’ve got the kill site just south. First on scene is Queeks. Verified that scene’s secured.”
“Crime scene’s right behind me.”
“Take part of the team with you, have them start looking in a direct path from that scene to this for impressions in the grass. But don’t let anybody mess with that scene until I’ve seen it.”
“On that. Uniforms found her?”
“No.” Eve straightened now. “Celina Sanchez had another vision.”
Eve finished her exam of the body and the dump site, then walked to where Roarke stood, just behind the crime scene sensors Queeks had set up.
She’d remember that, she thought. Remember that Officer Queeks worked quick and quiet and didn’t annoy the primary with a lot of chatter and questions.
“You don’t have to wait.”
“I’ll wait,” Roarke said. “I’m in it now.”
“Guess you are. Well, come with me. You’ve got good eyes. Maybe you’ll spot something I miss.”
She took a wide circular route to the second scene. If he’d left impressions in the grass again, she didn’t want to disturb them.
She nodded to Queeks. “Good work. Where’s the rookie?”
“I got him out securing the entrances with a couple of the guys. He’s okay, Lieutenant, just green. Only been on the job three months, and this was his first body. It was a tough one, too. But he maintained until he was well away from the scene.”
“I’m not writing him up for hurling, Queeks. You see anything I should know about other than the body?”
“We came in the same entrance as you. Got one on all four sides. We headed south, intending to make a circle. Saw her pretty quick. Didn’t observe anyone else. Not in the park or on the street. We were just coming out of a double D on Varick when the call came through on this. Some street people out, some die-hard LC’s trolling, but no one that fit the description we were given.”
“How long have you worked in this sector?”
“About a dozen.”
“You know O’Hara’s?”