Because she had her recorder on, and he knew her standards, he didn’t touch her. “You know I’m going with you.”
“Figured, but just wanted to point all that out.”
“Dallas?” Peabody called from the top of the stairs. “He has an office set up on the second floor. He had more targets lined up. You’re going to want to see this.”
“On my way.” She looked again at the windowless room with its narrow cot, the shackles bolted to the wall.
“Grit,” she repeated.
21
As she walked from the basement level to the second floor, Eve contacted Louise Dimatto.
“Hey,” Eve said when Louise, blond hair loose and wavy, came on-screen. “I need a favor.”
“I’m in a very good mood, so inclined to give one.”
“Where are you?” Walking, Eve observed. Street noises.
“Enjoying a slow walk home after a lovely dinner with my sexy husband.”
Louise aimed her ’link over and up so Charles came on-screen. “Hey back, Lieutenant Sugar.”
Good moods all around, Eve concluded, for the doctor and the former licensed companion turned sex therapist.
“How about grabbing your medical bag and making a detour to Central?”
Louise angled the ’link back, and the dreamy light in her gray eyes vanished. “Who’s hurt?”
“Female victim, Mary Kate Covino. Minor physical injuries, primarily contusions and lacerations on her wrist and ankle. I could call the MTs, but she’s going to feel more comfortable with you.”
“Is this connected to the two women who were murdered?”
“She would’ve been number three. We’ve got him.”
“Good. We’re nearly home. I’ll get my bag.”
“Thanks. I’m putting her in a conference room on my level, and Jenkinson’s with her. Peabody’s going to clear it so you can go straight to her. He had her a week, Louise.”
“Understood. Mira—”
“I’m calling her in.”
“Also good. I’ll see you soon.”
“Peabody, clear them through,” she said when she clicked off.
She stepped into a large room with an attached bath. It had big double windows, privacy screened, facing the street.
She wouldn’t have called it an office, but an HQ.
He had boards set up, one for each victim. Photographs of them at work, on the street, shopping, drinks with a friend. Time sheets, she noted, studying them one by one. Logging each woman’s routines, work schedules, days or nights off. A list of family, friends, coworkers, shops and restaurants most frequented.
Very, very thorough, she thought.
He’d taken photos of them as they slept in captivity, photos of the tattoo he’d replicated—included precise measurements of the butterfly, the colors of inks used.
He noted down what they’d eaten and when, what drugs he’d given them and when.
And he’d taken more photos after he’d killed them, cleaned them, dressed them, styled their hair and face. Included a list of the products, the wardrobe chosen for each.
“Cops should avoid terms like slam dunk,” Peabody commented. “But.”
Eve just nodded. “Numbers instead of names. And it looks like he worked in groups of three. He had four, five, and six lined up.” She moved closer. “And he had four ready to go. See this? He completed his research, had his plan for number four. He planned to grab her tonight.”
She moved across the room, bypassing, for now, the workstation and electronics for the board devoted to Lisa McKinney/Violet Fletcher.
“Got her mug shot, the stripper ad. Date of birth, all family connections. The date she disappeared. Clippings of her wedding to Joseph, and plenty of others through the years. Charity work, garden clubs. Birth announcements—and you can see he’s documented Violet’s three children over the years. He’d have gone after them eventually.”
She turned back to the victim board. “If one of them suited him, or well enough, if one of them worked, he could shift his focus to his mother’s other kids. She should never have had them. They got her, and that big house, the good life.”
As she took another turn around the room, Roarke watched her face.
“The lieutenant’s considering another angle of approach on your slam dunk.”
“Yeah, I am. Look at this—and tag Baxter, Peabody, I want him and Trueheart in here to help Reineke and the e-team. We’re going to go over every inch of this place. But look at it. The precision, the details, the focus, the skill. Timelines. He’s even got the patrols, the beat cops assigned to the area he hunted. I’m betting everything he purchases—the clothes, the makeup, everything—is logged on that comp. The where he got every item, the cost, the date of purchase.”