Chapter 4

Eve rarely visited what was now DeWinter's sector of the lab, but she remembered how to make her way through the maze—the down glides, through corridors, past check-ins and security stations to a wide set of reinforced glass doors—and a final security check.

The ample, two-level space held a honeycomb of labs, testing areas, machines, and equipment. Techs, rats, and supervisors, walked from area to area or worked at counters, behind more glass. They dressed in lab coats, protective gear, street clothes—and in one case what Eve was fairly sure were pajamas.

Someone, somewhere played music. She felt as much as heard the throbbing beat pumping against the walls. Unsure, she aimed right, glanced through an open door where a woman with dark skin, an upsweep of silver hair, and a snowy white lab coat appeared to be performing an autopsy on a really big rat.

She lifted her gory scalpel, gave a friendly nod. "NYPSD, right? Supposed to expect you. Are you looking for Doc D?"

"If that's DeWinter, yeah."

"Up the steps, make a left, then a right, then her lab's straight ahead. Do you need me to show you?"

"I think we can find it, thanks. Why are you cutting up the rat?"

"To find out if he and his pals ate this guy's face off, and when. We got rat turds to analyze, too. The fun never ends."

"Sounds like a party." And one she'd be happy to miss, Eve thought as she headed for the steps.

"You see a lot of terrible things when you're a cop," Peabody said.

"And there's always worse things tomorrow."

"Yeah, but I'd still rather do the job than cut open a rat to look for pieces of somebody's face."

"I'm not going to disagree." She turned left past another lab where a clear jar of maggots wiggled obscenely, turned right past another area—where the music banged—holding computers, what she thought was a holo-station, monitors, and a large board covered with sketches of faces.

Then straight ahead where she saw bright lights, steel tables, more equipment, and shelves holding various skeletal parts.

Closer—and farther from the music—she heard voices. DeWinter's, and another much more familiar to her.

She stepped to the opening where the glass pocket doors tucked into the walls and saw DeWinter hip-to-hip with Chief Medical Examiner Morris.

She wore her body-skimming black, and Morris one of his steel gray suits. He'd paired it with a shirt a click or two lighter, had his inky hair in a single long braid.

Together they made a glossy plate of high fashion as they studied the white skeleton on the silver table.

A second skeleton rested on a second table; monitors displayed various individual bones.

Morris fixed microgoggles over his dark, slanted eyes to study the arm bone DeWinter lifted from the table.

"Yes," he said, "I agree."

Then his gaze lifted up, met Eve's. He smiled.

"Dallas. Peabody. Welcome to the Bone Room."

"Morris. I didn't know you'd be here."

"Garnet and I agreed it would be more useful to consult here. You've met, I'm told."

"Yeah." Eve stepped in, nodded to DeWinter. "What have you got?"

"I've started on the first two found. Remains One and Two. We recorded them, cleaned them, recorded again, and began the examine and analysis. Li and I agree the injuries to the remains were sustained much earlier than TOD. Some months prior, some years. Remains Two's injury pattern is consistent with a pattern throughout childhood of physical abuse, beginning, we believe, with this broken tibia near the age of two."

Would the bone snap, Eve wondered, such a young bone? Hers had six more years of growth before Richard Troy snapped it like a thin twig.

"A comparative analysis of the skull sutures and epiphyseal fusion sets Remains One at thirteen years of age, Remains Two the same. I can give you their weight. One between ninety-five and a hundred pounds, two between one-oh-five and one-ten. Both, as stated on site, are female. Li?"

"We'll draw DNA from the bones and run that. It will take some time. Much less if we're able to get a facial match, and test blood relatives. We're also running a variety of tests that should help us determine COD, will give us some data on the health and nutrition of the victims, and may even give us the general area where they grew up."

"From the bones."

He smiled again. "I'm a flesh-and-blood man myself, but yes, a great deal of information can be gleaned from bones."

"Our age, our sex, how we moved, our facial structure, how we ate, and often what we did for a living. It's in the bones," DeWinter claimed. "Victim One led a healthier and less traumatic life than Two. Her single injury is most likely the result of a childhood accident. A fall from a bike, a tree limb. It's cleanly and well healed, and was surely professionally treated. Her teeth are straight and even, and were, again, professionally treated, most likely on a regular and routine basis, while Two's are crooked, contain four cavities.

"Though it's only based on best probability, I would say One grew up in a middle-class or above household, while Two lived nearer poverty level, or below."

"The toes." Morris gestured. "You see how they're slightly curled, slightly overlapped?"

"From shoving them into shoes that were too small."

DeWinter beamed at her. "Exactly! Poverty or neglect, and likely both."

"This is helpful, but I need faces. I need names. Cause of death."

"And you'll have them. Elsie may have something for us. Elsie Kendrick does our facial reconstruction, and will very likely be faster than the DNA extraction."

"Faster's what I'm after. Can you tell when they died—from the bones?"

"Yes, within a reasonable span. They've been working on determining the age of the wall, the materials, in Berenski's area."

Dick Berenski, Eve thought, known as Dickhead for a reason, would get the work done. It also occurred to her that he'd likely been sitting in a pool of drool since he'd gotten a load of DeWinter.

"Give me a range."

"Given the method and material used to wrap them, the variance in temperature inside the building seasonally, the—"

"Just a range," Eve repeated.

"There are factors," DeWinter insisted, just a little on the testy side. "My initial analyses indicate a range of fifteen to twenty years. Berenski's initial tests indicate twelve to fifteen."

"That's good enough. It's going to be on the low side of yours, the high side of his."

"We haven't yet determined—"

"It's what makes sense. The last tenants vacated fifteen years ago last September, and that opens opportunity. At least some of these vics are going to connect to that last tenant—a shelter for kids—runaways and wards of court. It's what fits."

"It does." Morris nodded. "You'll find, Garnet, Dallas excels at finding the fit."

"All well and good, and most certainly possible. But TOD is yet to be verified by the science."

"You go ahead and verify," Eve invited. "And if it's not right about fifteen years, let me know. Where's the reconstructionist?"

"I'll take you. I'm having more tables brought in," DeWinter continued as she started out. "I feel it will be helpful to have them all in one space as we continue the work."

She turned into the music. "Elsie! How can you think with this so loud?"

"It helps me think. Mute music." Elsie levered herself out of a chair, set the sketchbook and pencil she held aside. She wore her blue-streaked blond hair in dozens of thin braids that ended in tiny beads. She looked about sixteen in an ankle-skimming dress swirling with color, if you overlooked the fact that she was hugely pregnant.

"How are the twins?"

"Active." Elsie rubbed her belly the way Eve had observed pregnant women did.

"Sit."

"No, I've got to move around, too."

"But not overdo."

"Don't say overdue!"

"How far along are you?" Peabody asked.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Detective Peabody, Lieutenant Dallas, Elsie Kendrick."

"Welcome. I'm at thirty-three weeks, four days. I'm going to start counting hours soon. I feel like I'm carrying a couple of small, frisky ponies." She pressed a hand to the side of her belly. "Wow. With really strong hooves. It's taken me a while to get started, so sorry right off. Hormones, I guess. Reconstructing little girls. Mine are both girls. I had to have a little meltdown first."

"Children always hit harder," Morris said.

"Boy, don't they? I was just finishing the first sketch. I always do a sketch, kind of a tribute, after a reconstruct. Let me show you the first girl."

"Victim One?" Eve asked.

"Yeah, Garnet said to start in numerical." She moved to the holo-table, tapped buttons. I got a ninety-six and change probability on her, so this should be close. It'll be close enough for a match run."

The hologram shimmered on.

Slim face, deep gold skin, dark Asian eyes, a short wedge of straight dark hair, full lips, strong nose, softly curved chin.

A pretty girl, Eve thought, with the potential of true beauty that would never be realized.

"Her racial profile weighed more heavily Asian, so I went with the probability of straight hair. Her facial bones and structure were both fine and even. Excellent bones. I added the nose stud, as Garnet said you found one, but I can take it out."

"It doesn't matter. This is good, really good. We need a copy. We'll start running for a match."

"We're working on establishing TOD. It's tricky to get a real pinpoint on that."

"Fifteen years—in that area," Eve said. "If you can narrow it more, it'll help, but we're reasonably sure of that. You said this one likely came from a solid middle-class or better." Eve turned to DeWinter. "Had good health, good medical care. So it's probable we'll find a Missing Persons on her. What about Two?"

"I have the basics started." Again, Elsie tapped buttons. "I'm going to want to work with it, adjust the data. But here's what I have so far."

The holo, much less refined here, showed a fuller face, slacker. Smaller eyes, Eve noted, thinner mouth. Not a particularly pretty girl, not at this point in any case. Pale skin, somewhat sallow, a broader nose.

"We'll do better than this with more time. I'll send you a copy of the final."

"Good. We'll take what you have for now, get started."

"This one was sad." Elsie laid her hands on her belly again. "You can just feel it. And she didn't have time to get happy again."

When Elsie's belly jerked, visibly, under her hand, Eve took a definite step back. Peabody took one in.

"Can I?"

"Sure." Elsie turned her enormous belly toward Peabody's reaching hands.

"Awww." The cooing sound matched the sappy look on Peabody's face.

"I know, right? They're going to settle down soon, running out of room in there. It's crazy considering how many times a day they punch or kick me, but I'm going to miss it."

"Have you got names?"

"Daddy and I are still arguing, but I'm pulling for Harmony and Haven."

"Pretty."

"Okay, well," Eve began.

"Oh, let me make you a copy of both holos, and I'll update the second image as I refine it. I can probably get a third started today," Elsie continued as she programmed copies. "And possibly complete three to four tomorrow. I hope to have all of them for you within three days. I just think of the parents, the not knowing. It has to be torture, even after so many years."

"I don't want you upsetting yourself, Elsie," DeWinter warned. "Adding stress to your life at this stage."

"It's not, not really. I feel like I'm doing something for them, bringing their faces back, and that leads to giving them their names back. They shouldn't be numbers. None of us should ever just be a number."

She handed Eve the disc.

"You do good work. I'll be in touch, Dr. DeWinter. See you later, Morris."

"I'll be back in my own house before the end of the day if you need me."

She headed down, worked her way back out of the maze. When they were clearly out of anyone's earshot, Peabody spoke up.

"They look good together."

Lost in thought, Eve frowned. "What? Who?"

"Morris and DeWinter?"

"What?" Eve repeated. "Get out."

"No, they do. I don't see that hum between them like he had with Detective Coltraine, I just meant on a kind of visual level. Both of them kind of exotic and artsy. I always wonder if McNab and I come close to looking good together," she went on, speaking of her main man and one of the Electronic Detectives Division's aces.

"I mean, I'm kinda short and—it's Be Kind to Myself Day, so I'll say zaftig."

"Zaftig?" Eve muscled her way out the door, strode toward her car. "What language is that?"

"It's fancy language for full-bodied. And McNab's all bony and beanpoley."

"You look right together, which is better than good."

Completely stunned, Peabody stopped in her tracks. "That's the totally, absolutely nicest thing you've ever said about me and McNab."

Eve just shrugged. "I've gotten used to you. Mostly. Get in the damn car."

With her cheeks flushed with pleasure, Peabody obeyed. "Do you really think we look right together?"

"You're stuck together at the erogenous zones every chance you get, so why wouldn't you? Now, just for the hell of it, maybe we can focus on solving twelve murders."

"The facial reconstructing is really going to help. Elsie is totally iced at it. Oooh, and twin baby girls. How adorable is that? You should've felt the..." Hunching at the hard gleam in Eve's eyes, Peabody yanked out her PPC. "I'll start the search for the first reconstruction now."

"Really? What a fine idea. I don't know why I didn't think of that."

Wisely Peabody said nothing until she had the search under way. "Where are we heading?"

"To talk to the handyman. I want a sense of him, and I want to run down this helper type the matron had that feeling about. Then maybe we can run down Brigham and her grandmother. We're going to need to run all the staff at Higher Power, have a chat with anybody who overlaps with the other building. We can't—"

"Holy shit! Holy shit, Dallas! I've got her. I've already got a hit."

"Vic One?"

"I've got her. Look—wait—I'll put it up on the dash screen."

And there she was, Eve thought. The dark, almond-shaped eyes, the curve of chin, the full lips, the ebony hair glossed to a sheen. Not a wedge, but a long fall.

A professional and posed shot, Eve decided. A studio photo taken for official ID where the thirteen-year-old Linh Carol Penbroke stared soberly—with a touch of defiance—at the camera.

Missing since September twelfth, 2045.

The report gave her height, which matched Victim One, and a weight of ninety-seven pounds—so DeWinter hit on that as well, Eve calculated. Small girl, petite frame, pretty face with those glimmers of unrealized beauty.

"It lists both parents," Peabody said. "Two older sibs, one male, one female, and a Park Slope address. Affluent."

"Run it. See if the parents, or either of them, have the same address or another one."

"Searching now. Same address, for both of them."

Eve made the next turn, then the next, and headed toward Brooklyn.

"We're going to do a notification."

"I think they've waited long enough," Eve answered. "And I think they'll give us DNA samples. Like Morris said, we'll verify quicker with a parental swab to compare."

"Yeah. I've never done a notification on a long-term missing. Have you?"

"A couple of them. They're no easier."

"I didn't think so. Both parents are doctors. She's an OB, he's a pediatrician. They have a joint practice; it's attached to the home," Peabody read, "which I guess makes sense. Two sibs. The brother's also a doctor. Cardiologist, also in Brooklyn. The sister's a musician, first violin for the New York Symphony. I'm not finding any dings here on the criminal side. Finances are—whoa—doctors make a sweet living. They also have homes in Trinidad and the Hamptons. First and only marriage for each, into the thirty-fifth year.

"Everything says affluent, stable, and successful."

"If you don't count the dead daughter."

"Yeah." Peabody blew out a breath. "If you don't count that."

The house said affluent, stable, and successful as well. It took up a corner of a line of old and elegant townhomes. Eve assumed the Penbrokes had expanded the property at some point, incorporating the neighboring house into one large unit to accommodate two professionals and three children.

She spotted a Christmas tree in the tall trio of front windows, gave a fleeting thought to the fact Thanksgiving was in the rearview mirror, and they were barreling straight into the next holiday.

Shit. She had to shop.

With Peabody, she took the tidy brick steps to the front door, pressed the bell.

Seconds later, the door opened.

"Frank, I didn't mean you had to— Oh, sorry, I thought you were my neighbor."

The man wore cutoff sweats, a tank, and a gleaming layer of sweat over a pretty impressive build. Eyes a few shades darker than his skin skipped from Eve to Peabody, then back again, as he shot forked fingers through his close-cropped hair.

"Can I help you with something?"

"Samuel Penbroke?" Eve asked.

"Yeah. Sorry, I just finished a workout." He used the towel slung around his neck to swipe at his cheek.

"I'm Lieutenant Dallas, and this is Detective Peabody." Eve drew out her badge. "NYPSD. Can we come in, Dr. Penbroke?"

She saw it, the change on his face, in his eyes. From polite curiosity to a terrible blend of hope and grief.

"Linh? Is it Linh?"

"It would be easier if we came inside."

The hope died as he took an unsteady step back. "She's dead."

Eve stepped in to a wide, welcoming foyer scented by the bold red lilies on a stand. Peabody closed the door.

"We have some information, and some questions. Can we go in, sit down?"

"Please just tell me, is it Linh?"

"Yes, sir, we're here about Linh."

"My wife—" He had to stop like a man catching his breath. "She's still in the gym. I need you—she should..." He walked slowly to a house intercom. "Tien. Tien, there are people here to see us. You need to come."

It took a moment, then two, before a female voice, quietly annoyed, responded. "Sam, I haven't done my meditation. Ten minutes, and—"

He cut her off. "Please come out now." He turned toward the right where the big, sparkling tree stood in front of the windows. "Please, this way. We'll sit down. My wife—that is—it's our day off. We take a day off together."

He glanced toward a grand piano, and the family photos arranged on it. Among them stood the one of Linh they'd used for the Missing Persons report.

"My family," he began, and Peabody took his arm to guide him to an oversized chair.

"You have a lovely family, Dr. Penbroke. Are those your grandchildren?"

"Yes. We have two grandchildren. A boy, he's four, and the baby is just two."

"They must be excited about Christmas."

"They are very excited. They... Tien."

She was petite, like her daughter, and trim, but with a wiry toughness Eve recognized.

She wore the wedge cut Elsie had imagined for Linh. Her eyes, a strong green that made a compelling contrast with the golden skin, still carried that quiet annoyance though she smiled politely as she came into the room.

"I'm sorry. We were using our gym. We're barely fit for company."

"Tien. They're police."

It came again, that flipped-switch change. Tien reached for her husband's hand. "Linh. You found her. You found our daughter."

"I'm sorry to inform you," Eve began.

"No." And here, in a mother's voice, a mother's face, the grief after fifteen years was as fresh as it might have been at fifteen seconds. "No."

"Here, Tien. Here." Samuel simply drew his wife down, into the big chair with him, hugged her. "You're going to tell us our illusions are finished, that the hope we've clung to all this time is gone. That our little girl is never coming back to us."

There was no easy way, and a fast and clean cut was best.

"Dr. Penbroke, we discovered several remains of females between the ages of twelve and sixteen. We believe we've identified one of them as your daughter."

"Remains," Tien echoed.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm very sorry. You could help us confirm her identity. Did your daughter have any childhood injuries? Did she break any bones?"

"She fell," Samuel said. "Airboarding in the park. A bad fall. She broke her arm, just above the elbow." He clutched his own. "She was eleven."

"Peabody."

At Eve's unspoken order, Peabody drew the hard copy of the reconstruction from her file bag. "We were able to approximate her face."

Samuel reached out, took the picture. "Linh" was all he said.

"It's my baby. It's our baby, Sam. But the hair's wrong. She had long hair, beautiful long hair. And... and her nose, the tip of her nose turned up just a tiny bit. She had a little beauty mark at the top right corner of her mouth."

"Tien."

"It should be right!" Tears fell in silent rivers down her face, but she pushed on. "It should be right. She was very proud of her hair!"

"We'll see that it's right," Eve told her. "We'll make it right."

"Twelve, there were twelve," Samuel murmured. "I heard, this morning, in the city you found twelve. She was one of them?"

"Yes."

"When? How? When did she die? How did she die? Who did this to her?"

"I can promise you, both of you, we're doing everything possible to find out. I can tell you that at this time, we believe she died about fifteen years ago."

"All the time." Tien turned her head, pressed her face to her husband's shoulder. "All the time we looked, and prayed and waited. She was gone."

"This is very hard, I know," Eve continued. "Can you tell us why she left home, what happened?"

"She was very angry. Young girls have an angry time, a time they're unhappy and rebellious. She wanted a tattoo, wanted to pierce her eyebrow, wanted to go with boys, not do her schoolwork or chores. We let her have the little nose stud—a compromise—but she wanted more. It's a time, a phase many go through," Tien said, with a plea in her voice. "They grow out of it."

"She wanted to go to a concert," Samuel explained. "We said no, as she'd skipped her classes, twice. And had behaved poorly at home. She said we were unfair, and hard things were said by all. We restricted her from her electronics as discipline. It was difficult, but..."

"It was normal," Peabody put in.

"Yes. Yes." Tien managed a smile through the rain of tears. "Her brother and sister had both had this stage. Not as dramatic as Linh, but she was always more passionate. And she was the youngest. Perhaps we indulged her more."

"On the morning of September twelfth," Samuel continued, "she didn't come down for breakfast. We thought she was sulking. I sent her sister upstairs to get her. Hoa came down, told us Linh wasn't upstairs, that some of her things were gone, and her backpack."

"First we searched the house, then called friends, neighbors. Then the police."

"Did she have friends in the city?" Eve asked. "In Manhattan?"

"Her friends were here, but she liked to go to the city. She loved it." Tien paused to compose herself again. "The police looked, and we hired a private investigator. We went on screen, offered rewards. They found, finally, she'd taken the subway into the city, but they couldn't find her."

"She never contacted you, or any of her friends?"

"No." Tien wiped at the tears. "She didn't take her 'link. She's a very smart girl. She knew we had a parental tracer on it, so we'd know where she was. She didn't want us to know."

"She would have bought another," Samuel said. "She had money. She had five hundred dollars. Her sister told us, when it became clear Linh had run away, that Linh had saved money and hidden it in her room, made her sister swear not to tell. We were glad she had money, glad she had enough to pay for food. And we thought... we thought... she'd come home."

"But she didn't. She never came home."

"We'll bring her home now." Samuel pressed his lips to his wife's hair. "We'll bring our baby home now, Tien. We need to see her."

"Dr. Penbroke—"

"We're doctors," he said. "We understand what happens to the body. We understand you'd only have her bones. But we need to see her."

"I'll try to arrange it. We're working to identify her, and the others. If we could take DNA samples from you, it would quicken the process for Linh."

"Yes. They're on record," Tien explained. "But take fresh ones so there can be no mistake. Did someone hurt her?"

Navigate carefully, Eve warned herself. "I think someone kept her from coming home to you. We're working to find out who. I can promise you we'll do our best for her, for all of them."

She glanced at Peabody again, and her partner took two DNA kits from her bag.

"Just a few more questions," Eve began as Peabody rose to get the samples.