Vendetta in Death (In Death 49)

“And he was right, I could see it. I’ve got a kid to think about. So I grabbed my things and got out. Refiled for professional mother status. I didn’t know how much it shook me until I caught myself making excuses for not going out, and when I had to, looking over my shoulder. And that started pissing me off.”

When Una offered her fizzy water, Rachel took it, drank, breathed out. “Thanks. Anyway. When I saw this flyer for the group, I thought maybe that’s something to do. At least I can talk about it. I couldn’t afford to get my head shrunk, but this was free. And it helped, a hell of a lot. Some of the women, most of them, had it a hell of a lot worse than me, and more than that, they listened, they cared. Now I go for them, for the ones who need someone to listen, someone to care.

“Maybe one day I’ll gear myself up to get another office job, but it’s tough knowing I’ll get asked why I left my last job so fast.”

Roarke pulled a case from his pocket, took out a card. “Contact me when you’re ready to look for that office job.”

Rachel glanced at it. Her eyes popped wide. “Are you freaking kidding me?”

“Not in the least. I value strong women who know how to listen and care. I married one.”

Staring at the card, Rachel shook her head, slowly, side to side. “This is a really strange night. Do you know who this is, Una?”

“He’s a police consultant.”

“It’s frigging Roarke.” At Una’s blank look, Rachel shook her head and laughed. “Una’s a little insular, what with shaking off the asshole she married, working, raising a kid. I’ll explain later,” she said to Una.

“You joined the group due to the asshole you shook off?” Eve said to Una.

“He used to hit me, knock me around, and make me have sex.”

“Say the word, Una.” Rachel patted her arm. “Say it.”

“Rape.” Una breathed in and out. “He hit me, and he raped me when he got drunk, when he felt like it. I was afraid to do anything about it for a long time. I was always afraid. I was more afraid after Sam because he said how he’d hurt Sam, or he’d take him and I’d never see him again. He even went to jail once for it, for a while, but it just made it worse. He always found us. Then, like Rachel, I heard about the group. I didn’t say anything the first couple times—nobody makes you. Then I finally talked about it. Natalia helped me and Sam get into a shelter, a really safe place. I got a divorce. He didn’t care so much after that. I don’t know why.”

“She doesn’t get child support,” Rachel said. “He’s supposed to, but he doesn’t, and she doesn’t report it.”

“He leaves us alone. That’s enough. Rachel told me this apartment was going up, and I’d saved, but it wasn’t enough. Then Darla helped. She said one day I’d help someone else. Maybe Arlo doesn’t know where we are. Maybe he does, but doesn’t care. But you’re always afraid.”

“You talked about all of this in the group?”

“Sure.” Rachel shrugged. “That’s the point.”

“Did you name the man who assaulted you, or the business, did you use your ex-husband’s name?”

“Probably. You start getting wound up. I probably said something that like asshole Tyler—James Tyler’s the asshole. And I know Natalia counseled Una not to let Arlo make her live in fear. You, well, you need to put a name on that fear to beat it back, you know?”

“Yes. I need to speak to the other women in the group. I need full names.”

“I guess I know a couple, but I don’t see …” Rachel trailed off before her eyes popped wide again. “Oh my God.”

“Rachel, we can’t betray a confidence.”

“Jesus, Una, don’t you see where she’s going? Oh my God, you’re saying you think someone in the group is doing this? Is killing guys who screwed with us? Killing them.”

She shifted until she faced Una, until she gripped her arm. “That’s making us a part of it, Una. Whoever’s doing it, they’re making us part of murder. We won’t be part of that. Una, we’ve got kids. We’re trying to be people they can be proud of, depend on. We can’t be part of this.”

“Nobody in the group would do something like this,” Una insisted.

“Then give me names,” Eve said simply, “and we’ll clear it up.”

When they left, Eve had three more names, and a possible fourth, as the women disagreed whether one of the group was Sasha Collins or Cullins. They did agree however, she’d recently joined the group after an assault by an ex-boyfriend, and was somewhere in her late twenties or early thirties.

“And so are we off to another interview?” Roarke asked.

Eve, already busy searching for a Sasha Collins or Cullins, just shook her head. “I’m going to set up interviews at Central tomorrow. Bring them in.”

She kept working as they stepped out of the elevator. “I’ve got a Sasha Cullins who filed a police report on an assault six weeks ago. One Grant Flick, pled guilty—likely because he jumped her outside her apartment building in front of witnesses—is currently serving his time.”