“We clear it, but she’s not here. She hasn’t been here in the last couple days at least. Seal up, then take the kitchen, see when she last used the AC.”
Weapon in hand, she headed down a hallway, a room converted to a home office, a small bath attached. The master, bigger, splashier—with more dead flowers on a dresser that showed a thin layer of dust.
The bed might’ve been made with military precision, but it had a lot of frills and fuss. In the master bath a single bud of some sort stood withered in a slim vase.
“No way,” she muttered. “No way all those flowers died today. An organized soul,” she said when Roarke joined her. “On the outside—the living area—conservative, even simple. Indulgent here in her personal space, fluffy pillows, frilly curtains.” She opened the closet.
“Same here. Straight lines, black or gray on one side—work clothes. And some cut-loose stuff on the other side.”
“She last used the AC on the evening those girls got out,” Roarke told her. “At seven o’clock—almost on the dot—dinner of beef tenderloin—real beef,” he added, “new roasted potatoes, and roasted eggplant. Iced tea.”
“That explains the dead flowers and the dust.”
“I did a quick search,” he continued as she took the can of Seal-It from the kit, used it. “Every morning prior to that last meal? An omelet or a soft-boiled egg, with fruit and whole wheat toast. Seven A.M., again almost precisely. At, again, precisely two in the afternoon, a salad. She used the dishwasher at seven-thirty-eight on that same evening. Besides the dishes you’d expect from the breakfast and so on, a wineglass. There’s a nice bottle of pinot grigio—open—in the wine fridge, and a very good selection of wine on a rack.”
“Tormenting kids pays well,” Eve concluded. “They either relocated her after the escape, or killed her. I’m betting on number two. They not only got past her, but her swipe card got them out. Grounds for termination.”
“With prejudice,” Roarke finished.
“She still could have things to tell us. We’ll start in the office.”
Since she planned to leave the electronics to him, and McNab when the detective joined in, she walked to the closet.
“Locked. I like it’s locked.” She rolled her shoulders. “Somebody’s got secrets.”
“Would you like me to open the lock?”
“I’ve got it.” She pressed a hand to her recorder. “Gimme your picks.”
“How do you know I have picks on me?”
“Because you always do. Gimme.”
He took out a small case, passed it to her.
Reengaging the record, she got to work on the lock. Sure, it would take her longer, but she wanted to practice anyway.
“Passcoded and fail-safed,” Roarke told her as he worked on the desk unit. “Yes, I’ll agree, someone has secrets.”
“And whoever relocated her or killed her didn’t think of that. Yet, anyway. Got this big auction coming up, got cleanup to do on the escape, got hunters out for Dorian. Busy, busy. Williamson, just a cog in the wheel.”
“It hasn’t been long.” Roarke sat, began to work on bypassing the security on the desk unit. “I’d say they’re not particularly worried about anyone noticing she hasn’t been home. Not worried about the police identifying her, particularly if they found the rest of the broken swipe.”
“Follows.” The thin bead of sweat running down her spine as she worked annoyed the crap out of her. But she kept at it.
“She lives alone, works nights. We’ll check to see if she had any daytime or day off visitors. Talk to neighbors, but— Got it!”
“Congratulations.”
“Bite me, slick.” She opened the closet. “Standard-type office supplies, and ooh, a safe—we’ll get to that. And a couple file boxes of discs.” She pulled them out, set them on the work counter, pawed through.
“Jesus, Roarke, they’re labeled. Trainees—by numbers. Going from … sixty-five to two-fifty-three. She kept records on the girls, her own records on them.”
She paused at the buzzer. “I’ve got that, keep at it.”
She hustled to the door, and snapped orders. “McNab, check the security, see if anyone’s entered the premises since the night of the escape. Peabody, start knocking on doors on this level, determine when anyone last saw Williamson. She hasn’t been here since the night of.”