Devoted in Death

by J. D. Robb

  “Do that. I’m sending some uniforms to canvass, try some of the residences, the other businesses. If they spent time walking around that area, we can narrow the field. This is good, Baxter. What did they pawn?”

  “A wrist unit, sports model, and a second, dress type. Decent ones, both men’s styles. A tablet – wiped clean – a keyboard, musical type, an entertainment screen, an antique vase, a silver Saint Christopher’s medal. Nothing shows up on stolen.”

  “Bring the tablet in. EDD will see how wiped is wiped. Send me pictures and descriptions of all. I’ll check them against the vics. Did James go into the pawnshop and the pizza joint the same days?”

  “First time, yeah, but about six hours apart, from what we’re getting. Second time, different days.”

  “Okay. Keep me in.”

  “You bet. Ah, hey, I haven’t heard anything from Trueheart. Have you —”

  “It’s too soon. Focus.”

  She cut him off, went back to the map.

  She recalculated, using the two hits. You go for takeaway, she thought, you go close to home. If you were driving, it didn’t matter so much, but…

  Too much time between visits on the first hits. Six hours? No, he drove to the pawnshop, possibly, but then they went back to the same area to pick up food. And back again, same area twice more.

  Because it was easy and quick.

  She cut six blocks north and three blocks east off her map, let that stew while she pulled up the data Baxter sent and ran it with anything reported missing from the victims.

  Tablet, she noted, wrist units – but nothing matching the pawned wrist units.

  “You hit somebody in New York for this stuff.”

  She shoved up, paced. None of it reported stolen – and that led her to whoever they stole it from was dead.

  But not discovered. Not discovered because when the cops had a DB they checked out the DB’s place of residence.

  And that’s where James and Parsens were living. That’s what played out.

  She turned back to the map. “Getting closer, you fuckers. Getting closer every minute.”

  She went to the door, shouted, “Peabody,” then went back to the map as if she could pinpoint the location by will alone.

  “Sir!”

  “We’re narrowing the area. Baxter and Banner have a couple hits. I’m going to have some black-and-whites cruise the target area for the van. The baby is with Parsens’s mother.”

  “Thank God. I had this image of her just, I don’t know, tossing it out of the truck window or something.”

  “She had it for a reason,” Eve said, “and played the mother with the rehabilitating-myself-for-the-sake-of-my-tiny-baby routine, gave it a few days, stole what she could use or sell, walked out, leaving said tiny baby. That well may be dry now, but Carmichael and Santiago will pump it a little more before heading to the bar, then the prison.

  “I’m heading out shortly.”

  “I’ve got some angles for Baxter on the opens.”

  “Work them,” Eve said. “Take one, you’re primary.”

  “But —”

  Eve cut off the protest with a look. “We’re short here, Peabody. I need you to take one, work it. Send me updates and notes, and I’ll work with you. If something else pops loose on this, I’ll pull you in, but right now it’s steps and stages, calculations and incoming data. I’ll be tagging the agent in charge soon.”

  “You gotta?”

  “I gotta. If I’m not here when Banner gets back, you haul him to my place. We can work there tonight if we don’t have this locked.”

  “Okay.” Peabody let out a breath. “Okay, I’ll take one of the opens, pass the other to Baxter when he comes in. How do I know which one?”

  “You can’t know, you just pick and do what you do. It’s not your first round as primary.”

  “Yeah, but you’re always right there.”

  “I’m still there, keep me in the loop, but do what you do. You’ve got a shield for a reason.”

  Her ’link signaled. Eve glanced at it. “That’s Mira. I’m going to take this. Go, keep the balls in the air.”

  “But I can tag you.”

  “When you need to. Beat it.” She grabbed the ’link. “Dallas.”

  “I’m just coming in to Central. I wanted you to know that we’ve concluded both the victims were tortured and murdered, and it’s our opinion they are two more victims of the spree killers.”

  “Ella-Loo Parsens and Darryl Roy James.”

  “You have them.”

  “Not yet, but we have names, faces – and we have more data. I can come to you.”

  “I’ll come to you. Five minutes.”

  She was prompt. In five minutes Eve heard the skinny-heeled boots clicking toward her office. When Mira stepped in, Eve held out a mug of the flowery tea Mira preferred.

  “Oh, thank you! I can really use this.”

  “Don’t sit in that chair. You know what it’s like.”

  “Considering I’ve spent most of today on my feet, I’ll take yours. Thanks.” She sat, took a long, slow sip. “While not altogether careless, the conclusions reached previously on both victims are incorrect. Injuries were misinterpreted. Given the more limited experience and equipment in these cases, it’s not unreasonable to understand how those conclusions were arrived at.”

  “In both cases, there were people – Banner and the second vic’s wife – pushing for further investigation. Those people were dismissed by the local authorities and the federal authorities.”

  “Agreed, however, assessed from one angle, the victims appeared to have had accidental deaths. Regardless, they were murdered. DeWinter is writing the reports, on both, in minute detail.”

  “I just bet.”

  “She’s also requested the exhumation of Noah Paston’s remains, and their transfer to her.”

  “I’m going to owe her that drink.”

  Mira smiled. “And you’re busy and distracted by what’s happening now, so this doesn’t matter.”

  Eve shook her head. “It does matter. Victims always matter, and I’m grateful you took the time to throw your weight on the pile. I’ll inform Agent Zweck of your conclusions, and tell him DeWinter’s report is forthcoming.”

  She turned to her board, pointed at Parsens and James. “These people will pay for the two victims you gave your time and skill to today. And for Noah Paston. They’ll pay for all of them.

  “They have a kid.”

  “I’m sorry, what?” Stunned, Mira lowered her tea. “The killers have a child?”

  “A baby. She had it while he was doing time for getting caught trying to steal her a ring. True love.”

  “This changes things.” Shifting, Mira studied the board. “Having a child, taking a child on a killing spree across country —”

  “No, she dumped it on her mother before they started. From the timing, she got pregnant on a conjugal while he was inside, had the kid before he got out. She went home with it, lied about how she got knocked up, played the I’m-turning-over-a-new-leaf card, then stole what she wanted, left the kid behind. The mother hasn’t heard from her since. That was back in June. James got out about six weeks later.”

  “Is he aware she had his child?”

  “She listed him as father on the birth certificate, which is how we knew about it. She named the girl Darra, and I figure Darryl, Darra.”

  “Yes, I see.” Slowly, processing, Mira nodded. “She had the child – the physical proof of their love – but didn’t want it with them, didn’t feel what a mother would feel and didn’t want the child close. This is a kind of honeymoon for them.”

  “Yeah, that occurred to me. I know her now. Having the kid served a purpose. It binds him to her even more, ties them together tight. It was – is – a vehicle, that’s all. If she felt it would be useful, she’d go back for it, but she doesn’t give the kid a single thought.”

  Saying nothing, Mira nodded, sipped more tea.

  Eve understood
the silence perfectly.

  “Stella had me because I served a purpose.” She said it flatly – it meant nothing now. “She had to tolerate having me around because I wasn’t old enough to serve the purpose she and Troy had in mind for me. She had something with Troy, then with McQueen, that this one has with James. Only Troy and McQueen were the dominants. I think Parsens runs the show here. She might not make it obvious, she might let James think he’s the big, strong man, but she’s calling the shots.”

  “There are variables that may play in to the dominant/submissive dynamic between them.”

  Eve shook her head. “I know her. She had the kid, dumped the kid. I’m betting she visited James in prison like clockwork. She waited for him, three and a half years. That’s not a small thing.”

  “They see it as love. For them it is love. Once in a lifetime.”

  “Yeah, and she’ll do whatever she thinks will keep him with her. He’s a romantic, so when we close in, he might sacrifice himself for her. He calls her his Juliet. He’s into Shakespeare.”

  “And doesn’t understand that story was a tragedy, not a romance. He might, yes, die trying to protect her, but with this new information I think it’s unlikely they’d choose suicide. Or that she would. It’s not glory they’re after, or even the thrill of death. It’s love, a sexual bond heightened through sadism. To love, they need to live.”

  “Factoring in what we know, and what we’re learning, do you think Campbell’s still alive?”

  Now Mira’s gaze shifted to Campbell’s board image. “I think the probability of that is higher now than I would have estimated it this morning. How long that remains true… In any of their more urban murders, the bodies have been carelessly dumped, no attempt to conceal. I don’t see why they’d change that pattern now, here in New York, so until her body is found, she’s alive.”

  “I figure another twenty-four, thirty-six tops. They’ll get bored, want somebody fresh.”

  “I won’t disagree.”

  Eve paced to her skinny window and back. “If I release their names and faces to the media, odds are somebody will recognize them. But if they see their faces on screen, they’ll kill and run. It’s not the glory,” Eve repeated.

  “Again, I won’t disagree. It’s a difficult call to make.”

  And one she’d been wrestling with.

  “I’m not releasing, unless ordered. I’ve held back from bringing in the feds because they may take that path. Would you throw your weight on my pile, if necessary? It’s a tough call for you, too.”

  “I believe they’d cut their losses, try to get out of New York, so it’s not such a tough call.”

  “We’re narrowing the area, if that helps. Banner and Baxter got two hits already less than a block apart. It’s going to zero down.”

  “I’ll put it in writing.” Mira finished her tea, rose. “And I know a few people in the FBI. I’ll speak to one or two with influence.”

  “If that doesn’t work, nothing will. It should hold them off from releasing for twenty-four anyway. And that’s about all the time Campbell’s got. They’d likely finish Mulligan with her, or shortly after. So if I can get another twenty-four to thirty-six, it’ll have to be enough.”

  “I’ll push for the thirty-six.”

  “Thanks. You look tired.”

  “Oh, I am. I’ve got a few things to deal with here, then I’m going home and have Dennis rub my feet.”

  “Really?”

  “He does the most amazing reflexology. You look tired yourself.”

  “I don’t know if Roarke does reflexology.”

  “I imagine he has a way. In any case, my advice is to take an hour and relax, clear your head after you’re home. You’ll work half the night if I’m any judge, so take an hour first. You’ll be fresher for it.”

  “Maybe I will.”

  Mira turned toward the door, paused. “Is the child – Darra – in good hands?”

  “Santiago says the mother and stepfather seem to be good people, and want to legally adopt the kid. She’s in a better place than she would be with her mother.”

  “Then when you think of the child, and you will, think of that. However selfish and cold the act, the mother did the daughter a great favor. She’ll be loved and tended.”

  And better off than many, Eve thought when she was alone. With luck it would make a difference.

  She put it aside, sat, contacted her commander to get the federal ball rolling.

  18

  She spoke to the commander, delighted he would contact and brief Special Agent Zweck. As she gathered up what she wanted for working at home, Baxter came to her doorway.

  “Another hit at the Chinese place.”

  She tossed her coat aside again. “Let’s hear it.”

  “Takeout, just last night. Both of them have been in, together and separately. They call in the order.”

  “We can trace it back.”

  “Problem. The place overrides every four to six hours. Banner’s running the ’link up to EDD, but it’s old, it’s crap, and even I know it’s going to take time to try to pull a contact out of the hat after it’s got close to a day’s worth layered over it. Same with the security feed. He’s taking EDD copies.”

  “Have him send copies of everything to my home unit.”

  “Already did. Crapped out, so far, on souvie shops, but hit at this hardware place on West Broadway.” His gaze slid toward her AutoChef, and Eve resigned herself.

  “Go.” She tipped her head toward the machine.

  “Gratitude.”

  She eyed him as he programmed. “Want some candy to go with it?”

  He gave her a blank look. A blank cop look. “You got candy in here?”

  She jabbed a finger at him. “You know something. Now you know I know you know something, and I’d grill you like a trout if I had time.”

  “You doing okay, LT?” He sipped his coffee casually. “You seem a little stressed.”

  “Bite me, Baxter. Hardware store.”

  “Yeah, West Broadway, right off Prince. I got this little buzz when we passed it, like you do. So we went in, and hit. James has been in, twice. Counter guy remembers – the accent stuck. James paid cash, and that helped the stick. Duct tape, cord, a roll of plastic. Friendly guy, apparently, talkative enough. Said how he and his wife just moved to the city. She really loves New York.”

  “Was he on foot or in the van?”

  “Counter guy didn’t notice, but figured the van because he bought a jumbo roll of the plastic. Said he had other errands to run. So we hit a couple delis, nothing, but hit again at a 24/7. Got all the feed we could, but the hardware was four days ago. Everybody got the usual warning. Don’t let on, don’t confront, call nine-one-one.”

  “Write it up, exact addresses of the hits.”

  “We got her in a couple shops in SoHo.”

  “Is that so?”

  “We took a gander at the feed. She bought a couple pair of sexy panties, lifted a dress and the matching bras. Clerk’s pretty pissed they missed catching her.”

  “Sloppy, on both sides. They can’t help but steal, and they’ll get caught sooner or later trying to cop fancy underwear or something shiny. We don’t have later, so we close in on the area. They walk, they drive, they eat, they shop.”

  She shifted back to her map. “We’ve got twenty-four, Baxter, I figure twenty-four at the outside before Campbell’s finished. Same amount before the feds release the names and faces, and that’ll finish Campbell and Mulligan for sure, and send those two fuckers running.”

  “I can take Banner back out. The boy, too. He’s on his way back in from the exam. But we covered all the ground, Dallas. The best we could do is cruise and hoof it, hope to spot them on the street.”

  It was something she’d considered, but… “I’ve got uniforms doing that. We’ve got other DBs who need attention. Peabody’s working one, and she’s got another set up for you. Work it with Trueheart.”

  “It’ll keep his mi
nd off the exam results. He thinks he did okay, but said he got nervous a couple times. They’re backed up – surprise. Told him results in about forty-eight.”

  He slid her a look. “Maybe you can speed that up.”

  “Dead bodies, Baxter, and two I’d like to keep breathing. Let’s keep focused here.”

  “Right, yeah, right. He’s okay with the forty-eight. It’s me sweating it. I’ll get moving on it.”

  She wanted to get moving herself – and stop talking to every-damn-body.

  She grabbed her coat again, and got the hell out before someone else interrupted her.

  She’d cruise the target area. Maybe do a walk-around.

  These two had murdered their way east and gotten away with it not because they were criminal geniuses, but because they’d kept moving, because it had taken time for locals to call in the feds, time to put the murders together.

  But now they were… nesting, she thought as she wedged herself into the cop can of an elevator. Making themselves a home of sorts, getting to know the neighborhood, the city.

  Out and about.

  And, for now, they still felt free and clear.

  Not hiding, not running, not moving on.

  Yet.

  She elbowed off on her level of the garage, and pulled out her signaling ’link on the way to her car.

  “A big howdy from the Rope ’N Ride,” Carmichael said. “Yee-haw.”

  “You’ve gotta get the hell out of there soon.”

  “Oh, fucking A, Dallas. Somebody just called me little lady. I’m not little, I’m not a lady. I wanted to punch him, and he was seriously cute. But I digress. Ella-Loo Parsens did her waitress thing here, and offered sexual services, for a fee, on the side. Unlicensed. But it’s not the kind of place that sets much store in licenses. The seriously cute bartender told Santiago – as he wouldn’t discuss such matters in front of the little lady – that bjs were her specialty.”

  “Keeps her in control.”

  “In my personal experience, you bet. She could be bitchy, always talked about going east. Claimed she was saving up, marking time until she could head to New York City, shake the prairie dust off her boots and live the big-city life.”