So, Eve thought, sickened with rage, he’d thought of her when he’d raped Darlie. Even then he’d thought of her.
“Were you ever alone with him? Did the woman ever leave the room?”
“I don’t—yes. I think. It was after the first time, or the second. It gets mixed up.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“I didn’t think I could scream anymore. It hurt to scream. They were lying on the bed with me. She said she was hungry, and she wanted some candy, so he told her to go help herself. When she went out, he said maybe he’d keep me, his first new bad girl. Maybe he’d take me with him when he was done.”
“Where? Did he tell you where?”
“He wasn’t really talking to me. He was looking up at the ceiling, sort of talking to himself, I think. He said he’d find us another mommy, and we’d live it up for a while with Dallas at our feet. But he missed New York and all the bad girls. Couldn’t wait to go back home.
“Then he turned the camera back on.” Her breath started to hitch. “And he got on me. I could still scream.”
“Give it a rest awhile. You gave me a couple of things I might be able to use to catch him.”
“I did?” Darlie swiped at her cheeks. “Really?”
“What’s the point of telling you if you didn’t?”
“To make me feel better.”
“Hey, you’re getting ice cream. You’re already going to feel better.”
Whether it was surprise or genuine humor, a smile ghosted around Darlie’s lips. “You’re funny.”
“I’m a barrel of monkeys, kid, though mostly I figure monkeys stuck in a barrel are just going to be pissed off.”
The laugh tripped out, a little rusty, a little weak, but it fell into the room just as Darlie’s parents came back in. At the sound of it, Mrs. Morgansten’s eyes filled.
“Good timing.” Eve got to her feet. “We’re just finished here.”
“We got you a cone.” Mr. Morgansten lurched forward, holding out a cone topped with a scoop of chocolate goo.
“Now you’ll feel better, too,” Darlie told her.
“Looks like. Thanks.”
“Lieutenant Dallas?” Darlie took the cone her father gave her, but continued to stare at Eve. “Will you tell me when you catch him and put him back in jail?”
“You’ll be the first. That’s a promise.”
She stepped outside, leaned against the wall a moment, just to breathe. She studied the door across the hall, but just couldn’t face going back in. Enough, she told herself. Just enough for now.
She took out her ’link, noted the goo dribbling down the cone. What the hell, she thought, and licked at it.
Roarke came on screen.
“I’m done here, and have a couple things to follow up on. Where—”
“You have ice cream?”
“Yeah, it was a gift.”
“I wouldn’t mind ice cream.”
“Anybody who does is just sad. I’m heading back to the car, so—”
“Why don’t I walk with you,” he said, coming out of a room on the right as she walked to the elevator. “And share your ice cream.”
“I think it’s Fudge Sludge.”
“An unfortunate name.” He leaned down, sampled. “But tasty. How’s the girl?”
“Wounded, fragile, and stronger than she thinks she is. Between her and Melinda I got matching brown leather shoes and belt—both with silver buckles, a leather knife sheath, monogrammed I.M., and a vid cam with tripod. He never used a cam before. None of the other vics mentioned being recorded.”
“A recording can be found, and would incriminate. From what I read in his file, he didn’t need that kind of thing. He doesn’t have to relive what he can simply live again.”
“Exactly. He had the girls. If he wanted a replay, he could just pick one. He didn’t document because he’s smart.”
“But he’s not attempting to hide what he’s doing this time. He’s already convicted. So he needs the vid to relive the moment, at least between victims?”
“I don’t think so. He made it for me. This thing’s dripping.”
Roarke took out a spotless white handkerchief, sacrificed it by wrapping it around the cone. And took payment in ice cream before handing it back. “For you?”
“He made her scream for me while he was raping her.”
“Christ. That’s it for my appetite.”
In agreement, she tossed the cone in a recycler. “I’m going to check the evidence list, but I didn’t see any cam or tripod on it. So he took it with him, which says he means to use it again.”
“Another girl?” At her hesitation, his jaw tightened. “No, you’re saying he means to use it with you, not for you. To record you, once he has you. Perhaps for me, perhaps just for himself.”
“It demonstrates he’s still confident. And she gave me another tidbit that confirms—in my mind—he’s still here.”
She opened the car door, slid inside.
“When his partner left the room for a snack and a hit, he talked about keeping Darlie. Not to her, she said, and I think she was right about that. This was thinking out loud, not indulging in his sick version of pillow talk. He talked about getting them a new mommy, and that reinforces the profile. The partners are Mommy, in his very, very sick version. He mentioned having Dallas at their feet. I can’t pin down whether he meant me or the city. Maybe both. But he did talk about going back to New York. Later.”
“You believe he already had his backup location set here.”
“I think he had it set for a long time. I’ve got to work it out in my head. I need to filter some of the excess out of my head and get to it.”
She pushed a hand through her hair. “Anyway.” She contacted Lieutenant Ricchio, relayed the data.
“I should go back to his place, get a better feel for it, for what he took, what he left. What he—”
“And how is adding yet more helping you sift through the extra crap in your head?”
“Shoving more in there gives me more to work through, and with. I couldn’t get a feel for the place before. It was too crowded, and . . . I wasn’t at my best.”
He said nothing for a moment. “Mira’s at the hotel.”
“I’m not ready for Mira. I’m not ready to yank my mind and guts open. I need to feel I’ve done all I can. I need to do what I’d do under any other circumstances. What I’d do is go back to the scene.”
“All right, we’ll go back to the scene. Then that’s enough, Eve. That’s bloody all for the day.”
Not if they got any sort of a hit, she thought, but didn’t argue.
“Park in the garage,” she told Roarke when they approached the building. “That’s the way he’d have gone in and out routinely.”
She got out of the car. Minimum security, but still it was there. He’d have jammed the cameras when he brought Melinda, then Darlie in. Dallas EDD would work with the discs. If they pulled anything out, she’d take a look. But for now . . .
“You know he may have kept the second ride here, right under her nose. How would she know? Why pay to store it somewhere else, and have to go get it? Plus, it’s just like him. He loves screwing with people, pulling the con, making them a fool.”
“I asked for copies of the building security. We can review them.”
“Yeah, you never know.” She studied the area, the setup, and yes, began to get the feel of it. “He’d bring them in late, reduce risk of running into another resident or visitor. But he’d jam the elevator. No one up or down but him until he was inside. He puts them in a kind of twilight sleep. Walks them right up. Uses the stairs, that’s why he likes a lower floor.”
