“I wasn’t thinking anything, actually, sir. But I was mentally kissing your feet.”

He laughed, picked up half a bagel, broke that in half, and bit in. “You’ll miss some fireworks. Shutting down a public park.”

“I need the scene preserved while the sweepers comb it.”

“And the mayor will counter, after all the political malarkey, that according to all reports, this perpetrator seals, and therefore you’re wasting public funds, police man-hours, and denying the citizens of New York access to public grounds while you chase the wild goose.”

Politics weren’t her forte, but she’d already gotten there on her own. “The timing. In all probability he was still inside the park, very likely still with the victim at the dump site, when the first officers on scene arrived. He had to have her blood on him. If the timing was that close, he might not have had the time or the inclination to clean up. I know he didn’t. We found blood trails already. From kill site to dump site, and from there heading east. If I can mark his trail, his movements—”

“Do you think because I’ve sat at a desk I don’t remember how it works in the thick? Every piece you find is another piece, simple as that. And while the mayor may not understand that, Tibble will. We’ll handle it.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“What’s your next move?”

“I want to bring in EDD. I’ve been compiling a list, residents in a sector that rays out from the craft shop that each of the vics frequented, and a couple of gyms I need to check out that may apply. I need to juggle it down, cross-check. We find names. We find matches—residents, members, customers. We match and we eliminate and we find him. Feeney can cut through it faster, faster than I can, and then I can stay in the field instead of at a comp.”

“Get it started.”

She walked out with him, and parted ways to go back to her office.

It was easy to brief Feeney. He understood her shorthand, her direction.

“Won’t be quick,” he warned her. “But we’ll get on it as soon as you get us the data.”

“I’m going to pressure the customer lists from the craft shop. Actually, two of them. One’s out of the parameter, but not by much. I’ll do the same at the gyms for membership lists. I’ll feed you what I get as I get it, and shoot the data we gathered last night to your office unit.”

“Works for me.”

“I’ve been running eye banks. Donors and receivers. I think it’s a time waster, but it has to be factored in. I’m going to give you what I’ve got on that, so you can add it to the mix.”

“Give me all you got. You’re looking pretty peaky there, Dallas.”

“Peaky? Jeez.”

She cut transmission. She zipped files, lists, even her work notes to Feeney. Despite the peaky remark, she thought, he had a cop’s brain. Maybe outside of the e-work, he’d see something she’d missed.

She grabbed the jacket she’d forgotten to put back on after her shower. Striding into the bull pen, she gave Peabody a come-ahead.

“Let’s roll out.”

Chapter 12

“What does peaky mean?”

Peabody wrinkled her brow. “I dunno. Ah, a little look-see—you know, peekaboo?”

“No.” Eve idled at a light. “As applies to someone’s appearance. They look peaky.”

“Beats me, but it doesn’t sound good. Want me to try to look it up?”

“No. I asked Feeney to do the matches, looking for names that come up residentially, and in consumer and/or employee lists from the area we’ve outlined, the shops and fitness facilities within. We need to get the lists.”

“Feeney will find matches quicker than either of us. But it’s still going to take time, considering the size of the area and the number of people we’re dealing with. Then there’s the number of matches to wade through. People tend to do at least some of their shopping and business in their own neighborhoods.”

“Then we profile them. Unmarried males to start.”

“I can follow the detecting dots. He likely lives alone, is between thirty and fifty.”

Tags: J.D. Robb In Death Mystery
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