“Like the others.”
“Yes, like the others. She was raped, multiple times. Sodomized. I need to complete my examination to confirm, but I believe the sodomy was a single incident. And postmortem.”
“He sodomized her after he killed her?”
“I need to confirm, but that’s my preliminary opinion. We could consider it a blessing she had passed before that final, ugly act, but I also believe her death was slow and painful. I’ll need to confirm your on-scene evaluation of strangulation as COD, but at this point I agree with it.”
He gestured her forward. Peabody stepped up, offered Eve a tube of Pepsi.
Distracted, Eve stuck the tube in her coat pocket, leaned closer to examine the neck wounds as Morris did.
“Even without the goggles or the comp enhancement, you can see several wounds that are distinct and of varying degrees.”
“Choked her, let her revive, choked her, let her revive. Repeat.”
“Yes, until he increased the pressure and the length of time, depriving her of air, and crushed her windpipe.”
“He’s good at it.” Peabody sipped from her tube of ginger ale, bearing down on the queasiness. “Good and controlled enough not to go too far, to keep her coming back until he decided to finish it.”
“It’s part of the rape,” Eve said. “Her body convulses, she struggles for air, her eyes roll back. It’s an orgasm to him. The postmortem anal rape, that’s new. Maybe he wanted to try the new, or maybe he wanted another bump, or maybe it had something to do with the show.”
“Show?” Morris repeated.
“Whatever stage he’d set, whatever costume he’d chosen. She fought, struggled, tore her wrists up fighting the restraints. She’d have told him she was pregnant. It would be at the top of her mind. ‘Please, don’t. I’m pregnant.’ What did he think of that?”
She looked over at the male victim. “Can you confirm he died first?”
“Yes. About ten minutes before. And, again from a visual exam, there were gaps in time between several of the injuries, on both victims. It appears—I stress appears for now—the male victim suffered a blow to the right temple, the initial attack. The rug burns on the heels appear to have been incurred around the same time. And this?” Morris laid a sealed finger, gently, on the bruising beside Miko’s left eye. “Again, in that same time frame. This isn’t as violent, this blow, but would have disoriented, debilitated.”
And hurt like hell, Eve thought.
“His hands next?”
“If you want opinion rather than confirmation, yes.”
“Okay.” It all jibed with what she’d seen, felt, observed on scene.
Give pain, create terror—the terror was every bit as important as the pain. Control, perform, humiliate.
“We’ll get out of your way. Anything that jumps out—whether you can confirm or not—let me know. Anything.”
As she walked out, she heard Morris order the volume up. And the angel sang.
She thought about detouring to the lab, but accepted it was far too soon, a waste of time. Instead she checked addresses, then drove to do the notifications of the next of kin, and shatter more lives.
When they finished, Peabody put her head back, shut her eyes. “It’s always harder than you tell yourself it will be. It’s always harder.”
“You helped Miko’s mother.”
“I hope. Some. It’ll help more when Nina goes to her. And maybe, when the shock wears off some for her, for Xavier’s parents, they’ll remember something. Some details that adds to this.”
“Have the bartender brought in,” Eve ordered as she pulled into Central’s garage. “I want a look at him, and I want him to have a look at me. In the box.”
“How about I send Uniform Carmichael and whoever he picks? He can be smooth and persuasive.”
“Do that. Then check with Baxter and Olsen, see how far they’ve gotten on the list. Anything buzzes, we need to know.”
They started up in an elevator that quickly grew crowded. “I’ve got to make a stop. Get this started.” Eve shoved off, switched to glide, and aimed for Mira’s office.
Mira’s admin, her personal dragon, sat in the outer office busily keyboarding.
“I need to see her.”
“Dr. Mira is in a session.”
“Don’t fuck with me on this.” Eve felt all the anger and frustration she’d shoved down through the day rising fast, like hot vomit in the throat. “This directly concerns her.”