“I hear you.”
“The dad picked up the son at his friends’—where the kid habitually went after school—just before five. Mina was due home by five, but he didn’t worry until about five-thirty when his wife got home. They called Mina’s ’link—but couldn’t connect. Started calling her friends, her soccer coach, then while Oliver—the dad—went out to drive around the area, Rae called the police.
“They haven’t given up, Lieutenant. This is going to crush them. If you could do me a solid, let my partner and me notify them. We have a relationship.”
“I’ll make sure you get the report quickly. I’ll want to talk to them, but it can wait until later in the day.”
“I’ll tell you they’re going to be on their way to New York today. They won’t wait.”
“Give them my contact. I’ll make time.”
“They’re going to ask me if she was raped.”
“I can’t give you that information. She’s with our ME now, and he’ll determine that. What was she wearing the night she went missing?”
“School uniform—she’d have had her soccer clothes in her bag. White, long-sleeved shirt, navy pants. She had a habit of shoving her school blazer in her backpack—because it was lame—and wearing a white zip-up hoodie. Same with her uniform shoes—dark brown loafer style. She’d more likely have worn her white kicks.”
“Jewelry?”
“Three earrings—studs. Two silver hearts, one blue star, a silver heart on a chain. She’d have had her ’link, her ID, under twenty in cash, her tablet, schoolwork—assignments, a binder to hold assignments—earbuds, the makeup she was allowed—and what she snuck in, which her mother knew about. Hairbrush, hair ties, and a small first aid kit. Her father insisted both kids carry the basics. We didn’t find a trace of any of it.”
Whoever grabbed her wanted it to look like a runaway at first glance, Eve thought when she ended the call. Like the killer wanted it to look like a mugging.
To buy time, she assumed, in both cases.
And that led her to believe the snatch and the murder rested on the same person or persons.
She got up to start her murder board.
She kept at it when she heard Peabody clomp down the hall to her office.
“Send the report to Detective Driver.”
Peabody pulled out her PPC and did so.
“Devon’s going to do the next of kin notification, and reciprocate by sending us their files. They concluded a snatch, not a runaway. I’m going to agree with that. The victim didn’t strike out for the bright lights of New York after soccer practice with under twenty in her pocket.”
Eve didn’t turn. “I can feel you giving the AC begging glances. Get your damn coffee. Get me more.”
“It was more like longing glances than begging.”
“We’re going to run the parents to cover it. Look for any debts, any payouts that don’t square. Devon’s done that, but we cover it. She had a boyfriend—sort of. We’re going to look at him and see if he has a perv older brother, uncle, father. Run her coaches and teachers, same deal.”
“Okay.”
“And we look for any connections to New York, because they brought her here, and they kept her here. No signs of restraints or force—so far.”
“Maybe kept her drugged.”
“The tox will show it, just like Morris will determine if somebody used her for sex. Why do you grab up a pretty young teen if not for ransom—and no ransom demands made—or sex?”
“Like a house droid? Slave labor?”
“Not with those hands and nails. If anything, she’d had some pampering there, with that—what do you call it—kind of manicure deal.”
“French. You’re right. She had a classic French manicure—fingers and toes. Nothing flashy, all classy.”
“Classy,” Eve repeated, and grabbed her coffee. “If it was for sex, he wanted that classy. Or … let’s check child pornography. Thirteen’s on the cusp of that. It’s more pubescent porn. Photos, vids.”
Eve looked at the ID shot on her board, that young, fresh, open face. “Pretty redhead, clear white skin, some curves. Youthful but what—budding?”
“It’s so sick.”
“Yeah, and so’s jamming a sharp piece of wood in a kid’s chest. McNab did some time in Vice—check with him.”
Since the EDD ace was Peabody’s cohab and main squeeze, checking with him added a plus.