“We’re going to do a notification.”
“I think they’ve waited long enough,” Eve answered. “And I think they’ll give us DNA samples. Like Morris said, we’ll verify quicker with a parental swab to compare.”
“Yeah. I’ve never done a notification on a long-term missing. Have you?”
“A couple of them. They’re no easier.”
“I didn’t think so. Both parents are doctors. She’s an OB, he’s a pediatrician. They have a joint practice; it’s attached to the home,” Peabody read, “which I guess makes sense. Two sibs. The brother’s also a doctor. Cardiologist, also in Brooklyn. The sister’s a musician, first violin for the New York Symphony. I’m not finding any dings here on the criminal side. Finances are—whoa—doctors make a sweet living. They also have homes in Trinidad and the Hamptons. First and only marriage for each, into the thirty-fifth year.
“Everything says affluent, stable, and successful.”
“If you don’t count the dead daughter.”
“Yeah.” Peabody blew out a breath. “If you don’t count that.”
The house said affluent, stable, and successful as well. It took up a corner of a line of old and elegant townhomes. Eve assumed the Penbrokes had expanded the property at some point, incorporating the neighboring house into one large unit to accommodate two professionals and three children.
She spotted a Christmas tree in the tall trio of front windows, gave a fleeting thought to the fact Thanksgiving was in the rearview mirror, and they were barreling straight into the next holiday.
Shit. She had to shop.
With Peabody, she took the tidy brick steps to the front door, pressed the bell.
Seconds later, the door opened.
“Frank, I didn’t mean you had to— Oh, sorry, I thought you were my neighbor.”
The man wore cutoff sweats, a tank, and a gleaming layer of sweat over a pretty impressive build. Eyes a few shades darker than his skin skipped from Eve to Peabody, then back again, as he shot forked fingers through his close-cropped hair.
“Can I help you with something?”
“Samuel Penbroke?” Eve asked.
“Yeah. Sorry, I just finished a workout.” He used the towel slung around his neck to swipe at his cheek.
“I’m Lieutenant Dallas, and this is Detective Peabody.” Eve drew out her badge. “NYPSD. Can we come in, Dr. Penbroke?”
She saw it, the change on his face, in his eyes. From polite curiosity to a terrible blend of hope and grief.
“Linh? Is it Linh?”
“It would be easier if we came inside.”
The hope died as he took an unsteady step back. “She’s dead.”
Eve stepped in to a wide, welcoming foyer scented by the bold red lilies on a stand. Peabody closed the door.
“We have some information, and some questions. Can we go in, sit down?”
“Please just tell me, is it Linh?”
“Yes, sir, we’re here about Linh.”
“My wife—” He had to stop like a man catching his breath. “She’s still in the gym. I need you—she should . . .” He walked slowly to a house intercom. “Tien. Tien, there are people here to see us. You need to come.”
It took a moment, then two, before a female voice, quietly annoyed, responded. “Sam, I haven’t done my meditation. Ten minutes, and—”
He cut her off. “Please come out now.” He turned toward the right where the big, sparkling tree stood in front of the windows. “Please, this way. We’ll sit down. My wife—that is—it’s our day off. We take a day off together.”