substance was passed on, the recipe for LSD could have been passed on, too.”
“Could you make it?” Eve asked Teasdale.
“Yes, but I have an advanced degree in organic chemistry.”
“Degree or not, he’s got motivation. We’ll cross-check our names with chemistry degrees, or education. Doctor Mira, do you have anything to add to the profile?”
“I find it interesting that in both cases the killer chose a woman as delivery vessel. If, as seems most probable, neither woman knew his intentions, he used women as both dupe and weapon. She’s the means, and as first exposed, the first infected. It would follow she’d be the first to attack.”
“Probability would be high,” Eve added, “she’d be one of the first to die.”
“Logically, yes. He enjoys using women. If he’s in a relationship she would be subservient to him, the one assigned to do the menial chores. It’s unlikely he’s abusive physically. His violence is internal, even intellectual. In his work, he would resent women who are in positions of authority. He connives rather than confronts.”
“And treats females under him as tools?” Eve suggested. “Hey, honey, would you mind getting me some coffee? I didn’t get to the dry cleaner. Take an extra ten for lunch and pick up my suits.”
“Yes. Jeni Curve smiled at him—a genuine, easy smile. He coats his demands with charm. He may reward with little gifts, large tips. I’d look for someone whose mother or mother figure was quiescent, a professional mother with no outside career, or a low-level job. Whose father or father figure was dominant, ambitious, very likely ruthless in his career. There’s no political, social, or religious agenda here, or he—or the group he represents— would have issued a statement. This is a personal mission.”
She spread her hands. “His connection to Red Horse may be through family. A parent or grandparent in the military, or who belonged to the cult at one time.”
“All right. Factor in the family background on your runs and searches. Look for wits and coworkers with the female guardian as professional mother. Let’s make use of Trueheart’s method,” Eve decided. “Highlight this element in—what color do we have left—orange.
“The subject is most likely male. He works in that sector, lives in that sector. He eats and shops in that sector. He’s known in both target locations. Re-interview. Look for someone who’s cooperative, concerned. He’ll ask questions as well as answer them. Somewhere in his background is a connection to Red Horse. Find it, find him. Keep digging on the drugs. He’s got a dealer or a source. Find it. If he sticks to pattern, he’ll hit again within twenty-four hours. Callendar, make a place for Agent Teasdale in the EDD lab. McNab, get me that chart thing asap. Peabody, make sure Agent Teasdale has a copy of all files. I’m on twenty-four/seven until he’s down. Anything pops, I hear about it. Let’s go.”
11
When the room cleared she went to the board, removed the photos of Snyder and Curve, repositioned them together.
“These two,” she murmured.
“You’re convinced neither was part of it?” Roarke handed her a fresh cup of coffee.
“CiCi Way, Snyder’s friend, coworker, described how it played out. Having drinks with the boyfriend and his coworker, talk about stretching it out to dinner. Women head down to the bathroom. On the way, passing the bar, Snyder bumps into someone. Gets bitchy to her good pal when they’re done in the john. Says she’s got a headache. Head back, and Snyder shoves some guy out of her way …
“At the bar,” Eve remembered. “In her way. Could it be the same guy she bumped into? Could he have waited that long, wanted to see if it worked?”
“Risky,” Roarke commented.
“Calculated. He’d know he had about four minutes. If she isn’t back, he leaves. But it would be so chill to see her, see the change in her face. Happy going down, pissed coming back. Maybe.”
She set it into a file in her mind. “Snyder’s just the tool, doesn’t know a thing except she’s got a headache and she’s pissed off. About the time Way feels a headache coming on, Snyder picks up her fork and stabs her boyfriend in the eye. Hell ensues.
“Plus nothing rings on Snyder. Just like Curve. We’ll look deeper, but it fits they were dupes. He didn’t even know Snyder, the way this plays. Maybe he’d seen her before; she’d seen him before. The way you do when you frequent the same bar, when you work in the same area. She may have worked in his offices, or the same building.”
“Trueheart’s famous chart indicates,” Roarke said.
“Yeah. That was good, creative work. So with Curve, I’m going with a customer. She’s delivery. I’m betting she delivered to his residence. He lives close enough.”
She glanced back at the clutter of empty pizza boxes. “To his offices, maybe. Can’t get out for lunch, call in a delivery. Working through dinner, call delivery. He knew the routine. He hung around close enough to the cafe to watch. If not her, one of the waitresses, or a coworker going in. Luck of the draw, both times. It’s a good plan because it’s no one specific, no one in particular. No real link back to him.”
“And he may not have factored in you’d identify the sources. All those bodies, all those injuries, the chaos of it. It’s a detail easily missed.”
“I want to take this home. Can you do the board thing with the Trueheart graph?”
“I can do that.”
“Dallas.” Peabody poked in the door. “Sorry. Christopher Lester’s here, wants to see you.”
“Does he?” She looked back at the board, considered. “Put him in Interview, same box as before if it’s free.”
“Okay. I thought you’d all but eliminated him and Devon.”
“All but. If Strong’s right, this guy’s cooking up his own drugs, not just the mix. If Teasdale’s right, he’d need experience and equipment. Lester’s got both. And he’s here. I’ll see what he has to say.”
“Why don’t I gather up your files while you do?”
“Appreciate it.” She started out, pulling her ’link when it signaled. “Dallas.”
“Lieutenant, Nancy Weaver.”
“Ms. Weaver.”
“We heard about what happened at Cafe West.”
“You know the place?”
“Yes. A lot of us eat there, or get food from there. Lieutenant, we’ve lost more people. Three of my people who went out for lunch never came back. I can’t reach them. I’ve checked with other departments, and there are more people who never came back from lunch.”
“I can’t give you details.”
“Please. Lew and Steve are here with me. We’ve been helping plan a memorial for Joe. When we heard —”
Her voice wavered, went thick. “We’re at the offices. Is there any way you can come here or we’ll come to you. If you could just tell us what happened. We knew people who worked there, at Cafe West. We might be able to help.”
“I’ll be there within the hour.”
“Thank you so much. I’ll tell night security to expect you.”
Interesting, she thought as she walked toward the interview room. Wasn’t it interesting?
“Do you want me in there?” Peabody asked her.
“Yeah. When we’re done, find out whatever you can about the Lester brothers’ family. That includes their parents, and this one’s wife. Take a good look at Devon’s spouse’s family background. You can do it from home, but on the way, go by their residence, talk to neighbors until you get a picture of their relationships, their movements.”
“Got it.”
“Nancy Weaver just contacted me, wants to chat. She’s with Callaway and Vann.”
“Interesting.”
