“They called them tramp stamps,” Peabody put in. “I found that when I was researching. Tats on the lower back of a female, that’s what they called them in that era.”
“Really? Pretty fucking sexist, but a good angle if we follow it. And we will because it’s what we have. Maybe she boosted her income with prostitution, but if she got busted, we haven’t turned up anyone with that tat.”
“Lots of years, lots of jurisdictions, and not all from back then are going to be in a database.”
“You’re right about that, too.” She checked the time. “I need to make the notifications, then we’ll hit the morgue.”
“I can take one of the notifications.”
“No, I got it. Send a memo to Jenkinson and let him know we’ll be sending him and Reineke an expanded list of properties. And start a search for male children between four and six—no, make it seven—given up for adoption, abandoned, taken by Child Services in the time period we’re speculating. Mother early twenties, Caucasian. Start in New York, all boroughs.”
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah, but it’s going to be something like that. It just follows.”
“I’ll set it up. I can keep going while we’re in the field, and send alerts on any hits.”
“Do that.” Eve sat, engaged her desk ’link.
Anna Hobe might not have maintained close ties with her parents, but Eve knew when she ripped the heart out of two people.
After documenting the notification, she scrubbed her hands over her face, and put it aside.
Peabody shot up a hand when Eve walked into the bullpen. “Two seconds, let me remote it. I’m getting hits,” she added as she finished, then popped up. “So I’m filtering the alerts to bar workers or alcohol issues or other addictions, prostitution pops. I can go through the rest when we’re back, but those filters might narrow it.”
“Good thinking.” She risked the elevator again. “I doubt Morris will find many deviations from the first victim, except the big one. He killed Hobe from behind. Covino suits him better and, for her sake, I hope she keeps doing just that.”
“No fresh missing persons that fit. It’s early, but if she does suit him better, maybe he won’t grab another.”
“Aren’t kids usually greedy?”
“Oh, well,” softhearted Peabody began, “I don’t know if I’d say that.”
“Sure they are. It’s a natural state until you’re taught about sharing and all that. The man plans, the boy wants. And the kid’s inside a man who knows how to take. Covino won’t keep him satisfied for more than a few days because she’s not Mommy. But she can buy us time.”
She pulled out her signaling ’link. “It’s Mira,” she told Peabody, and answered as they came to a stop on her garage level. “Dallas.”
“I’ve just read your report. I can come in early, within thirty, to consult.”
“I’m actually on my way to the morgue, then the lab.” She wondered how long Mira had been up, and how much time it had taken her to make her hair perfect. “It may take more than an hour.”
“All right then. Why don’t you—”
Mira paused as Dennis Mira came on-screen, pressed his cheek to his wife’s. And smiled with his hair going everywhere at once and his eyes still a little sleepy. Eve accepted it when her heart just melted.
“Good morning!”
“Hey. Sorry to interrupt your morning.”
“Oh, that’s all right. I’m going down and scrambling us some eggs, Charlie.” So saying, he kissed Mira’s cheek.
“That would be great, Dennis. I’ll be right down.”
“Don’t you work too hard,” he told Eve, then shuffled off in a green bathrobe that looked like it had seen a dozen years of early mornings.
“Why don’t you tag me when you’re back at Central. I’ll make time.”
“I’d appreciate it.” Eve got into the car. “If you could come to the conference room when I tag you? I think it would be more useful for you to see the board, hear anything Peabody’s dug up.”
“Just tag me, and I’ll come to you.”
Eve thanked her again, clicked off. As she drove out of the garage, she considered. “It’s still early. Go ahead and program some eggs for Morris, and coffee. I got him out of bed with this.”
“Nice. And, ah, got me out of bed, too, so…”