“I got a little ahead of myself,” Eve said and Nan turned to go. “Wait, just one more minute, and I’ll show you.”
“You have thirty seconds,” Nan said. “Or I’m going home.”
Eve led them into the kitchen.
“There’s a lot of sloppily installed drywall in my kitchen, because I hired a crime scene cleaner to do the job, but in this one, there is only one piece that’s poorly done. Right here.” She pointed to a screw buried deep in the drywall. “It’s screwed in too tight, tearing the paper. That’s because Anna removed this piece of drywall and screwed it back in . . .”
Eve jammed the sharp edge of the crowbar into the seam between the two pieces of drywall. She jerked the crowbar, tearing away a big chunk of drywall, revealing an arm wrapped in dusty plastic.
“。 . . after she stuffed Priscilla’s body in here, wrapped in the plastic from the doorways.”
Eve stood, crowbar at her side, looking at everyone and waiting for their reaction. Duncan was wide-eyed, but Nan glared at her.
“What?” Nan said. “Are you expecting applause? This isn’t an episode of Columbo. In the future, don’t waste my time indulging yourself in theatrics. Just show me the damn body. Now get out of my way and let me do my job.”
Eve set the crowbar on the island and walked out into the dining room, Duncan following behind her. The rest of the CSU team moved past them into the kitchen to get to work.
“She didn’t have to be rude,” Eve said to Duncan. “I was sharing my thought process.”
“Nan doesn’t care about that,” Duncan said.
“Do you?”
“Yes, but you should have told her where the body was and then you and I could have talked about how you found it, and why we missed it the first time we searched the house.”
“Anna planned this all ahead of time. We didn’t find blood because she spread the plastic from the doorways onto the floor before she killed Priscilla and cut the baby out of her.”
“Ah-ha.”
“Then she broke a few of Priscilla’s bones with a mallet or something so she’d be malleable, wrapped her and the knife and a couple of opened boxes of baking soda in the plastic, and duct-taped everything closed. Then she stuffed her into the wall, screwed the drywall back in, cranked up the AC, and hoped for the best. It’s no wonder she had to take sleeping pills that night.”
Duncan sighed, and it seemed to Eve that his whole body sagged, weighed down by every one of his fifty-plus years and the hundreds of cases he’d worked in his career.
“I should have retired months ago,” he said.
“We all missed this the first time through,” Eve said. “It has nothing to do with you being on the job too long. I just got lucky.”
“What I meant was, if I’d left this job earlier, I never would have caught this case, or our first one together, and I wouldn’t be haunted by these gruesome memories for the rest of my life.”
“I know what will make you feel better.”
He gestured to the food stacked against the wall. “That box of Ding Dongs?”
“Let’s go arrest Anna.”
“She can wait. She’s not going anywhere for twelve more hours,” Duncan said. “I just need a few minutes.”
He grabbed the box of Ding Dongs and took a package out.
“To eat the Ding Dong?” Eve asked.
“No.” Duncan unwrapped the pastry and took a bite. “I have to apologize to Daphne Grayle.”
He headed for the door. Eve started to go with him, but he held up his hand in a halting gesture. “This is on me. You stay here and observe the evidence collection.”
As horrible as that was going to be, Eve couldn’t help feeling that she was the one getting off easy.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The Northridge Hospital Medical Center was located at the corner of Roscoe and Reseda Boulevards, which Eve considered one of the dreariest, bleakest, and ugliest intersections in the San Fernando Valley, a washed-out concrete and asphalt wasteland of gas stations, auto mechanics, convenience stores, and payday loan rackets, crisscrossed above by power and telephone lines. So she thought the view from the window of Anna McCaig’s room in the psych ward didn’t exactly lend itself to peace of mind, tranquility, and reducing despair. But it was a view of paradise compared to what Anna would be seeing from her prison cell for the rest of her life.
Anna sat on the edge of her bed wearing hospital-issued clothes that resembled surgical scrubs and the kind of disposable slippers that hotels and spas offered to their guests. She glared at Eve and Duncan, who’d pulled over two guest chairs.