The In Death Collection, Books 16-20

by J. D. Robb

  “Eight.” His face was set like granite as he stared out at the scene. “This is your procedure, Lieutenant.”

  “Evac can confuse the dogs. It would be my choice to leave that until we believe all remains are located and marked.”

  “Do so. There’s nine,” he murmured.

  They worked, inside the house, outside in the rain. Dozens of cops moving like ghosts in their gray gear. Dogs barked, droids signaled, and flags were marked on the ground.

  “Call them off,” she ordered when thirty minutes passed without an alert. “Move in the evac team. Let’s have some lights,” she called out as she started across the spongy ground. “Two evac teams, one far west, one far east. Morris.”

  “I’m with you.”

  “I need IDs as soon as possible. Sooner.”

  “I’ve got dental for the missings on the city list, and those we’ve culled from this area. It doesn’t come up to this number.” He scanned the ground where the evac units were beginning to dig. “But I’ve got equipment in the portable that will match the dentals for what we have. Others are going to take a little longer.”

  “Ground’s rocky under this sponge,” Roarke commented. “Muddy now as well. It’ll take awhile for the robot diggers to get through this muck.”

  “Can you operate one?”

  “I can, yes.”

  “Get this man a machine,” Eve shouted out, and turned to Roarke. “Start due south. Morris, assign one of your guys to Roarke. Let’s get this done.”

  She shoved on the mask, engaged the filter, and strode toward the first marker. She stood, much as the search dog had, and waited.

  “Got remains,” the operator announced. The robot was shut down. It was handwork now, a careful excavation with sensors beeping, reading out hair, flesh, bone, beneath the thin layer of dirt.

  She saw hands first, fingers laced—or what was left of them. The filter couldn’t mask the full impact of what death slowly does to flesh. But still she crouched, came closer, as the shell of a woman was unearthed.

  Her hair was long. Longer than it had been at death, Eve thought. In one of those mysteries, hair continued to grow after life winked out. It was dark with dirt, but it would be light brown.

  You’re found now, Eve thought. We’ll give you back your name. The one who did this to you is boxed and caged. That’s all I can do.

  “How long she been in there?” Eve asked Morris.

  “Few months, maybe six, I’d say. I’ll tell you more when we get her in.”

  “Get her out,” Eve said, and, straightening, moved to the next marker.

  The false twilight the rain brought deepened toward night. The air was cold, damp, and carried the pitiful stench of death. Tagged bodies lay bagged beside gaping holes in the earth until they could be transported. Remains lay on tarps shielded by tents while the ME’s team worked to identify.

  The yard took on the look of a mass grave.

  Overhead, the media copters circled, spun out their lights. Word was more reporters were camped on neighbors’ lawns. It hadn’t taken them long. Even now, she assumed, the scene where she stood, the misery and horror of it was being relayed to screens all over the state—the country. The damn world.

  And people sat in their homes and watched. Grateful to be warm and dry and alive.

  Someone brought her coffee, and she drank it without tasting it, without thought. Snagging another, she walked to Roarke.

  “This is the third I’ve done.” Absently, he wiped rain from his face. He shut down the machine, boosted it aside so the hand team could work. “And you were right. It’s worse than anything I could imagine.”

  “Take a break.” She handed him the coffee.

  He stepped back and shoved up the mask as she had done. It barely helped now in any case. Beneath it his face was pale, damp with sweat. And grim as a grave.

  “I won’t be put in the ground when my time comes,” he said, quietly. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, whatever the hell, I won’t make that transition in the bloody dirt. I’ll take the fire, quick and clean.”

  “Maybe you can bribe God and live forever. You’ve got more money than He does.”

  He managed a small smile to please her. “It’s worth a try in any case.” He drank coffee, and looked, was unable not to look at the horror surrounding him. “Sweet Jesus, Eve.”

  “I know. His personal cemetery.”

  “I was thinking his private holocaust.”

  And she stood with him for a moment, in silence, listening to the mournful sound of rain pattering on the bags.

  “Morris has ID’d a few, through dental. Marjorie Kates, Breen Merriweather—from the city. Lena Greenspan—thirty-year-old mother of two from three miles away. Sarie Parker, twenty-eight, adult ed instructor, worked at the local school. Some of them are going to be street people, or LC’s. But we’ll ID them all. However long it takes, we’ll ID them all.”

  “It matters, who they were, where they came from, who loved them. You have to make it matter or they’re just rotting flesh and bone after all. They’re only what he made them. Isn’t that so?”

  “Yeah.” She watched as another was bagged. “And they’re more. Much more than he made them.”

  When it was done, as much as could be done then and there, Eve stripped off her gear, tossed it into the pile for sanitizing and disposal. She wanted a shower. She wanted hours in hot water, as hot as she could stand, then more hours in oblivion.

  But she wasn’t finished. Not yet.

  She dug in her pocket for another Stay-Up, dry-swallowing it as she walked to the copter where Roarke waited.

  “I’m going to ask you for one thing,” he began.

  “You’re entitled to more than one after the night you put in. Above and beyond, Roarke.”

  “We see that differently, but I will ask for one thing from you. When this is done, when you’ve closed it down, I want two days. Two days away from this, from all of it. We can stay at home, or go anywhere you like, but I want that time—for both of us. To—I’d say to get this out of our system, but we never will. Not really.”

  He pulled off the leather strap he’d used to tie back his hair. “To rebalance ourselves, I’ll say.”

  “It’s going to take some time yet. I need to be around until Peabody’s on her feet.”

  “That goes without saying.”

  “Yeah.” Because she understood it did, she pointed, then walked to the other side of the copter. Maybe it was silly to need it as a shield, but there were still a lot of cops on scene. She’d given her official statement to the media, though a few lingered, hoping for more.

  They’d get no more from her tonight, and she wanted private moments to stay private.

  She slid her arms around his waist, pressed her cheek to his. “Let’s just hold on here a minute.”

  “Gratefully.”

  “It shakes me. You can never get yourself ready for something like this. No matter what. And you know they’ll never be enough payment made for it. There can’t be. I’m sick. I’m sick in every part of myself.”

  She turned her head so it rested on his shoulder. “So yeah, I’ll give you two days—and take them. Somewhere away, Roarke. Away, where it’s just us. Let’s go to the island.”

  She tightened her grip, tried to envision the sugary sand, the blue water, and erase the vision of the muddy ground and body bags. “We don’t even have to take any clothes.”

  With a small sigh, he rested his head on top of hers. “I can’t think of anything more perfect.”

  “I got to finish up tonight’s work. A couple days more, maybe after that. Then we’ll get the hell out.”

  He gave her a boost into the copter. “You sure you’re up to the rest of this tonight? You’re running on chemicals.”

  “I sleep better when I tie off the ends.” She strapped in, then used the ’link to check on Peabody while the copter rose into the rain.

  Celina opened the gate to the elevator in her loft. “Dalla
s, Roarke. You both look exhausted.”

  “You’re not wrong. I know it’s late. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about that. Come in and sit.” She gestured them in. “Let me get you something. Have you eaten?”

  “Not thinking about food for some time yet. But wouldn’t say no to a chair.”

  “And some tea, I think.”

  “She could use it,” Roarke said before Eve could speak. “We both could.”

  “Just give me a minute.”

  She hurried away on bare feet with her lounging robe floating around her ankles. “Peabody?” she asked from the kitchen.

  “She’s pretty good, considering. In a regular room—well in the hospital palace Roarke finagled for her. She’ll need a couple more days in anyway, then maybe she can switch to at-home care until she’s a hundred percent again.”

  “I’m so glad to hear it. I don’t know if you’ve talked to Mira, but we made more progress today, and I think I could work with a police artist tomorrow.”

  She carried a tray back in, hesitated when she saw Eve’s face. “What?”

  “We ID’d him this afternoon. We got him.”

  “My God.” Celina set the tray down with a little thunk and rattle. “You’re sure? I can’t believe it.”

  “We’re sure. It’s one of the reasons we came by. Guess you haven’t had the screen on.”

  “No, I haven’t. Clearing the mind, and all that. How? When?”

  “I figured I’d left you out of the loop, but everything moved fast once it started moving.”

  “That’s not even an issue. He’s locked up? It’s done.” She breathed out slowly, then reached for the teapot. “I don’t even know how to think, or feel. It’s such a relief. How did you find him?”

  “Witnesses who saw him assault Peabody got a decent look at him, and his ride. We worked from there. Picked him up. He broke in Interview in less than an hour.”

  “You must be not only exhausted but very pleased.” She passed cups of tea around. “It came down to straight cop work, after all.”

  “And some luck.”

  “I guess I didn’t contribute much, at the end of things.”

  “Not so. You did quite a bit.”

  “You have a gift,” Roarke continued. “You’ve utilized it.”

  “It’s not something I have a choice over.”

  “Oh, I disagree.” Eve sipped tea. “You certainly chose to use it when you murdered Annalisa Sommers.”

  “What?” Celina’s cup rattled in her saucer. “What did you say?”

  “You must’ve been watching John Blue—visioning him—for months. Did you see him kill his mother, Celina? Did it go back that far? Is that when you started to plan how you could get rid of your competition?”

  As she stared, her face went stark white. “This is horrible. This is hideous and horrible. You’re accusing me of murder? Of killing poor Annalisa? You have the man responsible. How could you say this to me?”

  “I have the man responsible for murdering fifteen women. Fifteen, Celina. He had their eyes on display. Over the past few hours we’ve been disinterring bodies from the backyard on his mother’s place upstate. Bet you know about that place, too. We have thirteen bodies. Thirteen—including his mother whose remains have been positively ID’d. Thirteen women he practiced on.”

  Eve’s face wasn’t pale. It was hard as stone, cold as ice, but a faint flush of rage tinged it. “Did you watch him kill them, too? Add Elisa Maplewood, add Lily Napier, and you’ve got your fifteen.”

  Celina’s hands fluttered up, crossed over her breasts. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I think you must have pushed yourself over some edge.”

  “Right up to it, but not over. If I’d gone over, I’d be breaking your face right now, the way Blue broke my partner’s.”

  “You’d accuse me, after I came to you, after I’ve tried to help, because you have one too many bodies to fit your case? For God’s sake. I want you to leave my house. I want you—”

  When she started to rise, Roarke simply reached out, shoved her back into place. “You want to sit quietly, Celina.” And his voice was deathly calm. “We’ve both had a miserable few hours and may be less courteous than you’re accustomed to. So I’d sit still if I were you.”

  “Now you’re threatening me. I’m calling my lawyer.”

  “Haven’t read you your rights yet, so you don’t get any. I’ll read them to you, Celina, and you can call your lawyer, but right now, we’re just having a conversation.”

  “I don’t like the tone of this conversation.”

  “You know what I don’t like? I don’t like being used. I don’t like being hosed by some selfish bitch with a sixth sense so she can kill her boyfriend’s new woman.”

  “Listen to yourself! I was at home, all night, when she was killed. I took a tranq. I never left the house.”

  “Not at all true,” Roarke commented. “Oh, you’ve got the security discs that’ll prove you didn’t go out the front, use the elevator. But interestingly enough, you’ve no tenants down below and haven’t for the last few months.”

  Summerset’s little contribution, Eve thought. “You didn’t renew their lease.”

  “It’s certainly my choice—”

  “And that made it very simple,” Roarke went on. “You went out the door there—where you shut down the security cams—down the stairs, into 1-A, and out the emergency evac. I checked it myself, and you didn’t think to seal up first. We’ve your prints on the door, on the window, on the evac mechanism.”

  “It’s my property.” But her hands were moving restlessly now, from her lap, to her throat, to her hair. “My fingerprints might be anywhere.”

  “Annalisa didn’t fit. She was close,” Eve considered. “In the ballpark, but she didn’t quite fit Blue’s vision. Hair’s too dark, too short. Then there’s the kitten. He didn’t use props with the others. But you needed that moment of distraction. You’re not a two-hundred-eighty-pound man. You needed to distract her, to get her down so she didn’t have time to fight.”

  “For heaven’s sakes. He raped her. In whatever fantasy you’ve dreamed up, for whatever reason, you can hardly accuse me of raping another woman.”

  “Couldn’t have been pleasant for you. What appliance did you use? They make all kinds. Some of them are so realistic, you can hardly tell them from the real McCoy.”

  “Please.”

  Eve patted Roarke’s knee. “Sorry.”

  “You’ll never prove this.”

  “Oh, Celina, I will.” Eve leaned forward so Celina could look directly into her eyes. “You know I will. Just like you knew I’d get John Blue, with or without you. You wanted me to, just not before Annalisa. You have the right to remain silent,” she began.

  “This is insane,” Celina said when Eve finished the Revised Miranda. “Why would I come to you, to help?”

  “Always better to be in the inner circle, closer to data, if you can. That was clever of you.”

  “I’m going to call a lawyer.”

  “Go ahead.” Eve gestured toward the ’link. “Once you do, I’ll make it my mission in life to take you down harder. I’m tired. I want to close this down. Because I’m tired, I’m inclined to work with you on this, see what we can manage.”

  She saw speculation, just an instant of it, flicker over Celina’s face. “Blue’s got no reason to lie, Celina. He knows how many women he killed, and what he did to and with every one of them. The number is fifteen. He wasn’t in Greenpeace Park the night Annalisa was killed. He’s alibied.”

  “Then it was—”

  “Someone else?” Eve suggested. “Yes, it was. Someone who knew the details, details not released to the media. Someone who could use them, copy them. But that someone wasn’t a man. Because there was no man that night. Only you. He left you. Lucas left you, and ended up with her.”

  “We left each other, and he wasn’t seeing her when we were together.”

  “No, he wasn�
�t. Decent guy, honest guy. He didn’t two-time you. But he’d met her before you split. He confirms that, by the way. He’d met her, and he’d felt something click. I bet you knew he was interested, maybe before he really knew it himself. I bet you read him every chance you got.”

  “I told you I don’t intrude.”

  “You’re a liar. Up till now, your gift’s been more a game to you than anything else. Entertaining, interesting, lucrative. You told me once you were shallow, and that’s one absolute truth. Lucas wasn’t in love with you anymore, he was pulling away. Had to save your pride and make it seem amiable. And now, look at this, his new lady meets with a terrible death, and there you are, arms open to comfort. Did you weep a few tears when you went over to comfort him this afternoon?”

  “I had every right to see Lucas. Decency—”

  “Don’t tell me about decency.” The whip of Eve’s voice had Celina’s head snapping back. “You knew what John Blue was, where he was, what he was doing long before you came to my office. You watched him kill, over and over again. And you used them, used him, used me. One of the clerks uptown—you were smart to go uptown—at a craft shop remembers you, Celina. You’re a striking woman, and she remembers you coming in four months ago. Four months ago, and buying three yards of red corded ribbon.”

  Her cheeks weren’t pale now. They were going gray. “That—that doesn’t prove—”

  “You think it’s all circumstantial, and maybe. But it adds up so nice. Means, motive, opportunity.” She flipped out three fingers. “You knew the victim, you knew the details of the other murders, you had the murder weapon in your possession. We can trace it back to that uptown shop. It’ll take a little time, but we can do it. When we do, it’s as good as around your neck.”

  She waited a beat to let that factor sink in. “You’re the only one who could have killed her. You’re boxed. Stand up to it, Celina. One thing you’re not, is weak.”

  “No, I’m not.” She picked up her tea, wrinkled her nose in distaste. “I’d rather a brandy, I think. Would you mind?” She gestured vaguely. “On the shelf by the kitchen. A double.”

  Roarke obliged her, walked across the room.

  “You love him very much,” Celina said to Eve. “We could say outrageously.”