CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Duncan and Eve rode in a plain-wrap Explorer that led a caravan of two CSU vehicles and two patrol cars past the Oakdale guardhouse in the resident’s lane. Ruthie sensed their urgency and immediately opened the gate without waiting for anybody to wave at her.
As they headed up to Daphne Grayle’s house, Duncan said, “I’m going to go at her hard, see if she cracks.”
“What do you want me to do?” Eve asked.
“Pick up the pieces.”
“I don’t think Grayle did it.”
“We’ll know soon,” he said. “One way or the other.”
They parked out front and got out of the car. Daphne Grayle already had her front door open and marched out to meet them.
“What the hell is going on?”
Duncan handed her the warrant. “This is a search warrant for your home and vehicles.”
Daphne snatched the paper from him but didn’t look at it. “What are you searching for?”
“Priscilla Alvarez.”
“I haven’t seen her since she left here on Tuesday.”
“Nobody has,” Duncan said. “Please step aside.”
She took a step back, careful to avoid the cacti, and so did Duncan and Eve, making room for Nan and four of her technicians to pass. The CSU team were all wearing their white Tyvek suits, gloves, and booties and carrying toolboxes containing their forensic equipment. The two uniformed deputies remained on the street, securing the scene and keeping back the four curious neighbors drawn outdoors by the arrival of the vehicles.
Daphne stared at the CSU team as they went into her house. “I don’t understand. Why are you searching for her here? And what do you need them for? Those are CSI people. They investigate murders.”
Duncan glanced at Eve, who answered, “An hour after you say that Priscilla left here, Anna McCaig found a dead baby in her dumpster.”
Daphne seemed bewildered. “You think Priscilla gave birth to the baby here . . . and threw it away?”
Eve shook her head. “The medical examiner determined that someone tried to perform an amateur C-section on Priscilla, an operation she couldn’t have survived.”
Daphne gasped and covered her mouth in horror. “Oh my God. No.”
Duncan stepped forward, invading her personal space. “You told us how much you wanted a child. The question is, just how desperate are you?”
The question transformed Daphne. Her horror and confusion evaporated, overtaken by rage. Eve thought it was like watching a person morph into a werewolf.
“Let me get this straight,” Daphne said, unconsciously taking a defensive stance with her body, planting her feet on the ground and tensing her fingers. She was a fighter at heart. “You think that I gutted my maid, tossed her unborn baby into somebody’s garbage, and what else? You think her body is in my closet or buried under my roses?”
“Is that a question or a confession?” Duncan said. “Because if it’s a confession, we need to read you your rights first.”
Daphne took a step forward so she and Duncan were almost nose to nose, defying his attempt at intimidation. He stood firm.
“You’re a fucking monster,” she said. “How could you think that about me?”
“You’re desperate for a baby and you chose the day Priscilla disappeared to paint your living room,” he said. “Was it the beige you couldn’t stand to look at anymore or the blood spatter?”
“You’re sick.” Daphne reached into her back pocket for her iPhone. “I’m calling my husband. He’s a senior partner at the law firm of Lappin, Guillerman, and Boze. He’ll have your badge for this.”
“You’re welcome to it. I’m retiring in three months and I have all the paperweights I need.”
Daphne shouldered past them and out to the street to make her call. Eve studied Duncan. This was not the man she knew.
“I can’t tell if this asshole is a role you play,” Eve said, “or if it’s actually a side of your personality.”
He met her gaze. “Does it matter?”
“Only if you enjoy it.”
Duncan didn’t answer. He turned his back to her and went inside the house, leaving Eve to decide for herself.
Two hours later, the lack of sleep was beginning to get to Eve. She wasn’t feeling particularly tired, nor was she fighting to stay awake. It felt more like she was trapped between dimensions, not entirely occupying the space she was in or moving at the same speed as the world around her.