Devoted in Death (29 page)

“It’s totally frosted. See?” Peabody opened her pink coat to show off the lining. With some relief Eve let them ramble about body armor while she drove.

McNab slid up, spoke quietly near Eve’s ear. “That would’ve meant a lot to him, coming from you.”

He touched her shoulder lightly, then slid back. Either knowing she’d welcome a distraction or because he was greedy, he lifted his voice again.

“Who wants hot chocolate?”

And that took care of that.

She dumped Banner and McNab at Central, waited for Peabody to switch to the front seat for the trip to the lab.

On the way, she took a tag from Santiago.

“We’re at the garage now, but Hanks is out on a service call. Due back in a few. We took a little poke at his head mechanic, but he’s tight-lipped. We can poke at a couple of the others – the woman he’s got running the service counter’s got the wide eyes. She’d spill.”

“If he’s not back in a few, poke. Otherwise, keep it all easy.”

“No hits on the APB?”

“Not yet. I’ll let you know. Get me a name, Santiago. One name.”

“Working on it. He’s rolling in now. Back at you.”

“You can feel it falling,” Peabody said, “piece by piece.”

“There are two people it can’t fall fast enough for.”

She’d do whatever she could to speed it up, she thought as she moved quickly through the warren of the lab to DeWinter’s level.

Eve found the three doctors, all in lab coats. DeWinter’s was a metallic bronze that nearly matched her hair. She’d gone with ruler-straight, slicked back to leave her arresting face unframed.

Like Mira, she wore boots with scalpel-thin heels, hers in a deep green. Eve saw it matched the body-hugging dress under the lab coat.

DeWinter must have a hundred of them, Eve thought – dresses and lab coats.

Morris had chosen slate-gray over a suit of the same hue, and a single braid coiled up in poppy-red cord. And Mira had the traditional white over a suit as quietly blue as her eyes.

They made an interesting triad, Eve thought, standing around the white bones of the dead.

“Pretty clean,” Eve commented.

“The remains were in advanced decomp,” DeWinter began. “Morris worked with what flesh there was.”

“We ran reconstructions, of course,” he told Eve, before his colleague could recount chapter and verse. “And a number of tests you don’t want to hear about. We’re overruling the previous findings. The victim didn’t die in a fall. There was evidence of torture.”

“A thorough autopsy, a comprehensive one, should never have concluded accidental death.” DeWinter’s tone sharpened, as did the contempt in her eyes. “There are injuries obviously caused by implements, tools – several fingers were crushed – blunt force. A hammer, most probably. If you find the weapon I could match it. I
would
match it,” she corrected.

“There was also dehydration,” Mira put in. “We estimate the victim went at least thirty-six hours without water prior to death. If, indeed, he had suffered these injuries in a fall, he would have died instantly, not survived for more than a day.”

“Okay, that’s what I needed to hear.” She looked down again, at what remained of Little Mel. Justice would come, she thought. “What about the other one?”

“I’ve just started on tests, in the next room. Dr. Mira and I have already concluded a visual exam, and begun preliminary testing.” He glanced at Mira.

“It’s too soon to give you firm results and conclusions, but we both feel we’ll have a similar story to tell you.”

Thinking it through, Eve circled the table, the remains of Melvin Little, war vet, lost soul. Harmless.

“Here’s how I want to handle this. I’m going to wait until you have solid conclusions, until you put it all down, detail by minute detail, before I notify the feds. Right now, you’re reassessing, testing, examining, and if we even hint where this is going, the feds might be inclined to zip in and take over after they red tape it to death. The red taping may impede us, so we’ll just red tape it first.”

She glanced up, saw Morris with a slight smile, DeWinter with a more pronounced frown. “I’d be fine with them taking it over if it would speed this up, help us find the two people who are going through what this one went through. But it won’t. Objections?”

Mira folded her hands in a gesture that drew Eve’s attention. “The nature of the beast is bureaucracy, so I have to agree adding another agency to this mix would tend to slow down progress. But once conclusions are reached, conclusions that will stand in court, you must.”

“And I will. I won’t hold back. This isn’t about credit, the collar. It’s about making sure when we get these bastards we’ve got everything we need to put them away for the rest of their fucked-up lives. Agreed?”

“I’d like to finish what we’ve started without pausing to fill out countless forms,” Morris said. “Agreed.”

When DeWinter hesitated, frowned down at the bones, Eve tilted her head. “You stole a dog.”

“Damn it, you’ll never let that one go. Agreed, but we follow the rules, point-by-point.”

“Do that. And keep me updated. And remember this. The feds have nobody who can match the three of you. So, the ones we couldn’t save help you. And I’ll do whatever it takes to save the two who still can be. Together, we’ll put these sick assholes away.”

“Meanwhile,” Mira began, “I’ve reviewed your report. I agree it’s possible they escalated to two. That both Campbell and Mulligan are alive. It’s a progression. However, I can’t tell you that’s foregone. The longer we go without finding Campbell’s body, the better the chances. I don’t see them changing pattern and concealing or attempting to conceal the body, if there is one, as there’s no discernable motive to do so.”

“Then I’m banking on both of them being alive, until we know different.”

When she started out, Peabody lengthened her stride to keep up. “What are you going to tell Whitney?”

“Everything. If he tells me to bring in the feds, I bring them in. But I think he’s going to see this part of it my way. They can’t do any more than Mira, Morris and DeWinter on the remains – especially since they already signed off there. On the active hunt, I’ll send the agent in charge everything we have. The truck, the van, the conclusions regarding those we’ve eliminated. I’ll take whatever I can get for Campbell and Mulligan.”

“Okay. I’m all in.”

She decided to save time and contacted Whitney as she drove. He listened, said little, until she’d finished.

“Detective Peabody didn’t copy the FBI on her update this morning.”

“No, sir, I gave her the list to inform. I wanted you to see the progress first.”

“Where are Santiago and Carmichael in this interview with Hanks?”

“It’s going on now, sir. They haven’t contacted me with results as yet.”

“Let me know when they do. Whatever those results may be, I’ll inform the FBI of your progress to date. As for the ongoing lab work, they dismissed those victims from the investigation. On that, they can wait.”

Satisfied, Eve pulled into her slot at Central. “Thank you, sir. Heading up to Homicide now. If I don’t hear from Oklahoma in the next ten, I’ll contact Carmichael.”

She got out of the car, moved fast to the elevator. “Let’s keep the momentum going. Get a couple of uniforms to coordinate with Banner. He can give them part of the list. Let’s cover what we can cover. Sometimes you get lucky.”

As she stepped into the elevator, her ’link signaled.

“Give me something, Santiago.”

“How about a name, boss? Darryl Roy James.”

“Peabody.”

“Running it now, sir.”

“Who is he?”

“Hanks’s woman’s son. No cohab on record because he didn’t want to go that route, but they’ve been together for about ten years. Darryl worked for him at the garage. Good mechanic, lazy asshole – or that’s Hanks’s opinion. Took off when he was about sixteen, landed in Texas. Did time in juvie in there – boosting rides – came back home, went to work for Hanks. In July 2057, he took off again, this time in the ’52 Bobcat he stole from the garage, about six thousand in cash, tools, an antique bowie knife and so on. His mother begged Hanks not to report it, so he didn’t to keep the peace.

“James did another stint in the Oklahoma State Pen. Four years for attempted robbery, armed – he had the bowie knife on him when he tried to shoplift a diamond engagement ring.”

“For the woman. True freaking love.”

“Maybe. Got busted in December of ’57, got out early August of this past year. Time off, good behavior.”

“Timing works. Do they know his whereabouts?”

The elevator doors opened; a trio of uniforms started to board.

Eve snarled, laid her hand on her stunner.

They backed out again.

“He says no, and I believe him. No love lost there, LT. He took the loss on the truck and the tools for his woman, but when we said the
M
word, he spewed like a geyser. Carmichael’s talking to the mother now, but it doesn’t look like she knows anything much. She claims she hasn’t spoken to him since midsummer, right before he got out, and it rings true. But she did say something about a woman before she got hysterical. No name, just he’d hooked up with some woman somewhere, and it was all her fault – according to the mother.”

Santiago managed an eye roll and a smirk at the same time. “Carmichael’s working it.”

“Get me her name, get all you can, then get home.”

“I’m so ready for that. Yippee-ki-freaking-yay.”

“Peabody,” Eve said as she clicked off, and stepping out this time when the doors opened and other cops piled on.

“James, Darryl Roy, age twenty-five, single, one offspring.”

Eve’s head snapped around to her partner. “Offspring?”

“He’s listed as the father of a baby, Darra Louise James, born in April of last year. The mother is listed as Ella-Loo Parsens, age twenty-six.”

“That’s going to be her. That’s got to be.” Revved, Eve jogged her way up the glides. “How the hell are they doing all this with a baby in tow?”

“Jeez, poor baby. Not even a year old.”

Eve yanked out her ’link again, contacted Carmichael. “Ask the mother if she knows about a baby. Does she know she’s a grandmother?”

“Holy hell. I’m betting no. Hang loose a minute.”

Eve waited, pushing her way up to Homicide. When Carmichael came back on, Eve could hear the wailing from Oklahoma.

“She didn’t know. I’m going to calm her down again, Dallas, but she didn’t know about a kid, she doesn’t know the woman’s name. She only knows Darryl told her he was in love – had met his soul mate. Called her his Juliet, but he was into the Shakespeare thing, star-crossed lovers, Romeo, and all that. This was during visitation in prison.”

“Settle her down, work her some more. You and Santiago hang there until I get back to you. You may be out there a little longer.”

“Then I’m buying some damn cowboy boots.”

“If you buy pink ones, I’ll hurt you, Carmichael. Work the mother. She may know more than she thinks she knows. Peabody.”

Peabody read off her PPC. “Parsens, Ella-Loo, born Elk City, Oklahoma. Couple of pops for possession, low-rent stuff. No marriages, no cohabs on record. Lots of short employment history, with the last one picking up in January of ’58 through last August – her longest on record. A bar called Ringo’s, McAlester, Oklahoma. That’s where the prison is, Dallas. The Oklahoma pen.”

“Wanted to be near her man, waited for him. Close to four years – that’s devoted. Go back over the employment.”

“The next is short-term. March to July, 2057, the Rope ’N Ride, Dry Creek, Oklahoma.”

“And Darryl boosted Hanks’s truck, stole the cash, the tools, the knife in July, set out from there, and you bet your ass into the Rope ’N Ride in Dry Creek.”

She stepped into Homicide, held a hand up to stop anyone from asking her anything, and tagged Santiago again.

“NYPSD West,” he answered.

“Ha. Wrap it up there, asap, and head to someplace called Dry Creek.”

“Ah, man.”

“A bar called the Rope ’N Ride. Show the photos, Santiago. Get everything you can get on Ella-Loo Parsens – she worked there – and James. From there, it’s Elk City and Parsens’s mother.”

“Janelyn,” Peabody provided when Eve turned to her.

“Janelyn. Peabody’ll send you the data. Last stop, as of now, is McAlester. Talk to the warden at the prison, and check out a bar called Ringo’s where Parsens worked while James was in a cage. See who knows what. I’m going to bag these two, Santiago, and what you and Carmichael pull out of Oklahoma’s going to sew them up tight.”

“Light a candle for me, LT.”

“What?”

“I lost a bet with Carmichael, and she gets to drive. The speeds you can get up to out here? She’s pretty damn scary.”

“But you’ll get there fast. I know when you know, Santiago. It’s busting wide now.”

“We’ll bang the hammer here. NYPSD West, out.”

“Peabody, get them all the data they’ll need. Anybody has anything for me that can’t wait, say it now,” she told the room at large. “Otherwise, I need ten.”

She gave it five seconds, turned and went into her office. Shut the door. After tossing her coat aside, sat down and wrote everything up.

Updated her board with all the fresh data.

Sat down again, put her feet on the desk, and let herself think.

A guy walks into a bar, she thought, only there was no lame punch line to this one.

Something sparks between these two – two people, aimless, low-rent as Peabody said. Without that meet, without that spark, maybe they just stay low-rent and aimless. But that spark lit up something vicious inside them.

They like the vicious, she concluded, it’s part of what binds them together.

Eve studied the board where she now had Darryl and Ella-Loo front and center.

She’s the smart one, Eve decided. As far as smarts went. He’s the romantic. Gets busted for trying to cop a traditional engagement ring.

“I bet you found that stupid but touching, right, Ella-Loo? He did that on his own, a surprise for you. But you got yourself another crap job and waited for him. Three and a half years, that’s love, of its kind. That’s devotion. Must’ve gotten knocked up on a conjugal. Another tie that binds? I bet you timed that one, too.”