One of the crime scene investigators offered her a memo cube. “McQueen left this for you. You’re going to want to hear it.”
“Thanks.”
She activated it.
Hello again, Eve. I hope I can call you Eve now, after all we’ve been through together. I’d planned to have a nice, long chat with you today, but plans change, and this will have to do.
Welcome to my home—former. I wish I could be there to offer you a glass of wine in person. I know you enjoy a glass now and again—the photographs of you in Italy sampling the local vintages were really quite fetching. Marriage agrees with you.
As you can see, I left a bit of a mess behind. But then I know you like tidying up those little misadventures, and I’m a bit rushed. I had hoped to entertain you here, to put you up for a few days. I so looked forward to some Isaac and Eve time. But we’ll do it very soon, just the two of us.
You’re probably wondering why I left the steadfast Melinda and the adorable Darlie alive. You know, I’m wondering that myself. Perhaps I like knowing how well they’ll remember me. No one likes to be forgotten, to be ignored. Don’t think for a minute I’ll do either with you.
You’re in my thoughts, day and night. I’ll see you soon.
“Cocky bastard, but you can hear it in his voice. All that fury, just barely restrained. He’s thinking that bitch got lucky again.” She carried the memo cube with her as she walked over to study the holding room.
“Only four sets of shackles,” she noted. “He wouldn’t need Melinda once he had me. He could eliminate her, start the tidying-up process. He’d keep the girl, and want another. He’d always want another. He’d need that rush. He could take his time with me, take two or three days with me. Maybe he was going to try to squeeze you for ransom. He’s too much a grifter not to look for a profit.”
“If he had you, stayed here, spent that much time and open communications for a ransom, he’d risk his primary goal for money.”
“Adds to the thrill. And he’s got everything covered so well—he thinks. He’s arrogant,” she added. “So fucking cocksure he’s the smartest one in the room.”
“What does that make you?” Roarke asked her. “The one who beat him?”
Eve shrugged. “Going down before, that was just a twist of fate, just a lucky break for a rookie cop. He’s not that wrong. He eluded authorities for years. Years. He’s absolutely certain he can do it again. Takes me,” she continued. “Kills Melinda. He’d want me to see him do it, want me to watch him kill someone I saved. He’d want me to see him kill his partner, then when he’d had enough from me, kill the girl—or girls. I’d be last. He’d want me to watch him kill the kid, to know I was helpless to stop it. When he was done, he’d drift away. Set up shop somewhere else, far away. Maybe Europe this time. Somewhere urban and cosmopolitan enough for his tastes, where he could start a new collection.”
“Now he has to regroup, rethink, replan.”
So, Eve acknowledged, did she. “He’s got a contingency operation. He’ll adjust, refine. He means it when he says it’ll be soon. That must be the ME. I need to work with her, and I want to check with Laurence.”
Her ’link signaled.
“Dallas.”
“Lieutenant,” Bree began, “sorry to interrupt.”
“What do you need, Detective?”
“Melinda—they’re hydrating her and treating her injuries. They want to keep her overnight for observation. Darlie . . . you know what they need to do with her.”
“Yes.”
“But they want to talk to you, both of them. They’ve given us a statement, answered some questions. It seems important to them. Ricchio and the doctors, and Darlie’s parents, have cleared it. If you could make the time, Lieutenant. We’re at Dallas City.”
“When I’m done here.”
“I’ll let them know.”
When she put the ’link away, Roarke reached up, switched off her recorder. “You need a break.”
“I don’t. The busier I am the better I am. I’ll deal with the rest of it when I have to. But not now, not yet, because once I start dealing with it I just don’t know. We don’t even have the DNA match, so . . .”
She trailed off when he simply took her hand. And saw it in his eyes.
“You got it done?”
“The results came in when I went out to get your kit.”
Something sick and sour lodged in her throat. “I was right.”
“Yes. It’s conclusive.”
“Better to know,” she said, and stared hard at the wall.
“Is it?”
“I knew it—knew her—the minute we looked at each other. I thought I’d accepted it. Now . . . Hell, I just don’t know.” She rubbed a hand over her face, pressed her fingers to eyes that throbbed. “I need to work. I need to work and deal with this later.”
She walked to the medical examiner and the body. And Roarke stood for quite some time staring at the shackles fixed to the wall of the horrible little room.
17
Eve didn’t wait for the bag and tag. What was the point? Instead, she walked into the bedroom where Laurence headed up what looked to her like a thorough and meticulous search.
“Anything?”
“High-dollar sheets, towels, nice fluffy duvet. We can trace them. Some he took with him. He’s obsessively organized, everything in its place, so we can see some sheets and towels are missing. Some clothes, some shoes.”
He gestured toward the closet. “He’s got a dozen ties in there, and from the way he had them stored, took another dozen with him. Who needs two dozen ties?”
Eve crossed over to look for herself. “He likes clothes, likes to collect. But . . . some of these ties are exactly the same. Or is that just my crappy eye for fashion.”
“If it is, it’s mine, too. Same pattern, same designer.”
“That’s not like him. And there’s too much here, not just to leave behind but too much in the first place. This isn’t so much collecting as it is—”
“Hoarding,” Laurence finished. “That was my take. Could be he needed to hoard to compensate for a dozen years in prisonwear.”
“Could be. But it’s another break in pattern. That’s interesting.”
“Yeah, it is, isn’t it. So. We’ll take the laundry in for anal. The only toiletries left are the partner’s. Had to be a D-and-C there on that desk, so he took that. Had a monitor in the bathroom there so he could watch his holding room when he jerked fucking off. Sorry,” he said immediately. “The kid, she got to me.”
“Understood.”
“He left a supply of syringes in the bathroom, again some missing.”
“He doesn’t use, so he wouldn’t need as many of them. He’s not going to hook up with a partner yet.”
“Partner had a couple drawers, and it looked like he took a quick pass through, making sure she didn’t have anything that linked back to him. He didn’t check behind or under the drawers.” He gestured to the bags, sealed and tagged for evidence. “She kept stashes—a freaking pharmacy.”
She’d done the same long ago, Eve thought, as quick, blurry flickers of memories ran through her head. “She’d need to know it was there, in case he ran low or tried to cut her off.”
“And she liked variety. What we’re finding, so far, is more of her than him. And we can judge where
