Chapter 20

Eve contacted Peabody, argued with her.

"There's no need or point in you coming in for this. Nadine's handled. Jamie and his mother have cops in the house."

"Handled, my butt. I handled myself."

"Shut up, Nadine, and get your famous butt moving. Your transport's waiting."

"I have things I need," Nadine began, and continued to gather discs and notes into a bag that could hold a baby elephant.

She already had a suitcase the size of Montana packed and ready.

"If you have witnesses to interview," Peabody complained from the 'link, "I should be there."

"I've got it covered. If you want to be up half the night, work on the new parameters. Have your e-genius run a search and match using the refinements Roarke made. If anything else comes through, I'll let you know."

"But—"

"She's gone, Peabody. We won't take her down tonight. But contact hospitals—emergency treatment centers, walk-in clinics. Maybe she's burned bad enough to need medicals. Maybe she'd risk it. Hit facilities in your own neighborhood first. Let's play the angle she lives close to my old place. Any hits, I hear about it, otherwise, zip it. Tomorrow," she added, and cut transmission.

She turned to one of the uniforms who was waiting. "You get something?"

"A couple of teenage girls, Lieutenant, two floors down. Bocco family, apartment seven-twelve. Girls are Savannah Bocco, Thea Rossi, both age sixteen. They rode up in the elevator with her." He handed her a pair of discs in an evidence bag. "Security feed from the exterior and the elevator, sir. No hallway cams in this building."

"Good. Secure this unit once Ms. Furst is the hell out of it. Expand the canvass to emergency treatment centers and clinics in the area. She's burned, right hand and/or wrist. Try outlets that sell medical supplies—over-the-counter burn meds, pain meds."

"Yes, sir."

"Nadine!"

"I'm going, I'm going." She'd changed into black skin pants, boots, sweater, had actually taken time to slap some gunk on her face and fuss with her hair.

Eve all but shoved her out of the apartment. "Make certain she's secure," she told the transport officers. "In and locked down."

"I appreciate the hospitality," Nadine said, "however rudely offered."

"Get the hell out."

She turned to Roarke. "I'm going to talk to the teenagers—God help us all. You can be Peabody, if you swear not to sulk."

"I think I can mask my bruised feelings. She wants to help—and be in on the action," he added as Eve stepped out.

"She is helping, and there's not likely to be much action."

He patted her back, called for the seventh floor in the elevator. "A bit more action than there would've been, don't you think, if Nadine hadn't opened the goddamn motherfucking door."

Eve just leaned back against the wall a moment. "If the bitch had gotten a better angle through the gap, Nadine's dead. That chain wouldn't have stopped her. No hallway cams, apartments around her soundproofed. You could see the bolt on the chain was already compromised on the jamb. A few good kicks, it gives, and that's that."

"If," Roarke repeated. "And if didn't happen."

"What did happen is Nadine didn't think." She stepped out on seven. "And okay, yeah, yeah, I can see how it went in her head. A routine, the producer, what struck as a standard e-mail from the job. And at the push, she wasn't fatally stupid. But it's the kind of daily action, the acting on auto, that proves this individual can get to anyone. Louise gets an emergency call, heads out. Mavis takes five in her dressing room. Reo gets a damn messengered packet from her boss, whatever.

"She's revved up now, blocked up, needs the release, needs the win. She'll take more chances."

"Taking chances leads to making mistakes."

"Yeah. I don't want to catch her mistake when I'm standing over the body of a dead friend." She pushed the buzzer on the Bocco apartment, held her badge up to the security peep.

The door opened a couple inches, hit the chain. Eve considered giving it a few kicks just to see how many it would take.

"Mr. Bocco? Lieutenant Dallas, NYPSD, and civilian consultant. We'd like to speak with Savannah, and with Thea Rossi."

"Could I see your badge again?"

"Sure." Eve held it to the gap, figured if she'd been a crazed killer she could've stunned the man between the eyes in under three seconds.

"Sorry. We're a little nervous." He closed the door, released the chain, opened it again. A long-eared dog with short legs hobbled over to sniff at her boots, at Roarke's, then wagged the entire back end of its body.

Charmed, Roarke crouched to give the dog a rub that had it quivering with joy.

"Officer Osgood told us you'd be coming to talk to the girls." He stepped back, ushered them into a cheerfully disordered living area with a shining Christmas tree slowly revolving in front of the window.

"Go on, Tink, go lie down now."

With a sigh, the dog hobbled to a purple pillow, groaned in what sounded like pleasure as it flopped down.

"She's ancient, but still game. I'm Nick Bocco, Savannah's father. Sorry, we're still pretty tossed around from Christmas." He shoved at a mop of brown hair, looked owlishly around the cheerfully messy living space. "And no school till the second—a day I have circled in red on every calendar. I've been mostly working at home this week, and that doesn't matter at all."

He stopped himself, scrubbed his hands over his face. "Sorry again, I'm a little shaken at the idea the girls were in the elevator with a murder suspect."

"Did Officer Osgood say this individual is a murder suspect?"

"He didn't have to. He showed me the sketch—like the one I've seen on screen off and on all day. It's not just paranoia, leading me to the girls were in the elevator with the person the police are after for the two murders since Christmas.

"He said Nadine was okay?"

"She is," Eve confirmed. "Do you know her?"

"Oh, no. I mean I watch her on screen. Never miss Now, and I catch her a lot on her reports. She's in here a lot—virtually," he added with a sheepish smile. "It starts to feel like you know her. Anyway, I'm glad she's okay. Sorry one more time. Have a seat. You want some really bad coffee? Savannah did the marketing last, and whatever she picked up there is pretty awful, but it'll be hot."

"We're fine. Where is Savannah?"

"In her room with Thea, probably on the 'link with Flo-lo. Florence Louise—the three of them are like this." He linked his fingers together. "I'll get them."

"Her mother's not home?"

"What? Oh, no, we're... not together. She's away for a few weeks with her... I don't really know what he is. Doesn't matter. It's just me and Vanna—and Thea for a couple of days because she didn't want to go on the little post-Christmas cruise with her parents. Anyway, I'll get them. God, I'm nervous."

He moved to the back of the apartment, took a short jog to the left, knocked on a door. "Vanna? You and Thea need to come out here now."

"Dad! We're jiving with Flo-lo on mega importanto!"

"Now, Savannah. For the police."

The squeals clawed at the walls. Bocco rubbed his eyes, walked back to Eve and Roarke. "I opted out of the soundproofing on her bedroom. You want to be able to hear, in case they need you. But it's a high price to pay. Hey, how about a Coke? That's one thing Savannah got in prime on marketing day."

"That'd be great," Eve said, just to give him something to do.

The girls came out, holding hands, as Bocco stepped into the kitchen. She pegged Savannah as she had her father's olive complexion, brown hair—though there were violet streaks throughout the girl's—and his compact build.

Thea, at sixteen, had the body of a siren. Did they grow sirens' bodies that young, Eve wondered, or had her parents allowed body enhancements?

Both girls were pretty in the young, knowing way of teenagers Eve had never comprehended. Both wore wildly colored thick socks, baggy sleep pants, and bright, striped shirts.

"OMG! It's totally Roarke and Dallas! Vann! We like saw your vid a zillion times," Thea went on. "A zillion and one. Matthew Zank is so completely magalicious, even though he went and married Marlo Durn. Not that she isn't iced, but still. Bogus. This is trip tees! Too totally twee!"

"Thea." Bocco came back with two glasses filled with ice and Coke. "Try real English, just for right now."

"Dad." Savannah whispered it. "It's absotively Roarke and Dallas. Don't be lame, you know. The Icove Agenda."

"Right. I didn't put it together. I haven't been to a vid in... who knows? I'm reading the book when I get time. Not a lot of that around here."

"Nadine Furst lives right upstairs," Savannah said. "I've talked to her and everything, a couple of times. Somebody tried to totally kill her. We rode on the elevator with him. The killer," Savannah added in dramatic undertones.

"Her," Eve corrected, and Thea sent Savannah a smug smile.

"Told you it was a woman. She was all covered up, but she looked like a girl to me. Dork outfit for sure, and abso dullstown."

"Did she say anything to you?"

"Not a peep. We'd just pranked on Rizz, and were in hilarity over it. She was all pinched and sour."

"Gave us the trout eye," Savannah added.

"The what?"

"Fish eye, I'd say," Roarke put in, amused.

"Yeah, like..." Savannah glowered, tightening her mouth, lowering her eyebrows. "And I thought bite me—like you say in the vid. I thought that. Bite me, mister, we're in hilarity. Except you say he was a she. And I... it's not because we know she's bad now, honest it's not. But she looked mean. Like she wanted to be mean to us."

"That's a true."

"I didn't look at her much because she gave me a wills." Savannah gave a full-body shudder. "But Thea said, even before the cop came and all that, how the lady—I thought guy—but she said lady—in the elevator was like psycho. How if she hadn't been with me or somebody, she'd've gotten off just to do the distance."

"It's a true," Thea said.

"Thea's a sensitive," Bocco put in.

"Mr. B! Am not!"

"Let's just say you get feelings, have good instincts."

"Yeah, okay. I'm not weird. I just got a feeling, and I was glad to get off and away. Plus she smelled funny."

"How?" Eve asked.

"I didn't smell anything." Savannah shrugged. "But Thea's got super nose."

"She smelled funny," Thea repeated, and hunched her shoulders.

A teenage sensitive who didn't want to be one, be any different from the other teenage girls. Just how, Eve wondered, did she press the right buttons?

"I've a young nephew with super ears." Roarke pumped the Irish, just a tad, added a quick, charming smile.

Eve all but heard the two teenage hearts shudder and shake.

"You could be speaking in a whisper two rooms away, and he'd catch every word. I expect it's like that with a canny nose such as yours, Thea. What did the smell make you think of?"

"The bathroom at school after somebody boots. I don't mean the booting part, because if she'd smelled like that we wouldn't have gotten on with her."

"Sick!" Savannah giggled.

"Complete. It's like it smells after they clean it up. Sort of like a hospital smells. All sterile and chemically."

"That's good. That's good information," Eve told her. "Can you think of anything else? Any other details?"

The girls shrugged in unison.

"Did you ever see her before? In the building, on the street?"

"I don't think so." Savannah looked at Thea, who shook her head. "She was on the dull train so you don't notice, and we were all about telling Flo-lo about pranking Rizz since she couldn't be on it."

"Flo-lo's grounded," Bocca explained.

"Way bogus, but she's getting sprung tomorrow. Her mom said, so can we go to the ball drop, Dad? Please?"

"Sure, when you're twenty-one."

"Dad!"

"Totally negativo." He smiled in the way Eve imagined a weary and indulgent father might. "And Thea's parents already nixed that, so don't push it."

"Then can Flo-lo sleep over?"

"Sure, why not?" He rubbed his eyes again. "The more the merrier."

As they rode down to street level, Eve gave Roarke an elbow poke. "Sure and me young nephew back in Ireland has the ears of a two-headed bat."

"Your Irish accent's mired in a bog, Lieutenant."

"Yours bumped up a couple notches—worked, too, so that's good thinking."

"She wants to be like everyone else, as is typical, I suppose, for the age."

"I don't know. At that age I was sick of being like everyone else and was counting the days until I could be on my own."

"At that age I was boosting rides, lifting locks, and picking pockets. But then we never were like everyone else at the core, were we?" He grabbed her hand, kissed it.

"She can make herself look like, behave like everyone else, but she's not. And she doesn't want to be."

"The killer, not Thea, I'm guessing."

"She wants to be important, special, noticed." She pulled out her 'link as they stepped out into the cold, then frowned at it. "I was going to check on Jamie and his mother."

"But we'd both feel better if we did that in person. It won't take long."

"Unnecessary, but yeah. It'll be off my brain. The smell," she began as they got into the car. "Sealant maybe. Sealed up, top to toe, that could be it. Or part of it."

"There's a whiff of chemical in it, if you're sensitive enough to smells, but you don't use sealant when you clean vomit—and she was specific there."

"Disinfectant, some of that. Chemicals. Maybe treated the coat. Maybe had disinfectant in the bag? Clean up anything that needed cleaning. Antiseptic? Subtle, because the other kid didn't catch it. Maybe more a sixth sense than one of the five. The same that told her female, and gave her the sense of meanness where the other, Savannah, just saw a dull, dorky-looking person, a little annoyed maybe with a couple of girls in—what's it?—hilarity."

Eve scanned the streets as Roarke drove.

"She's hurting, unless she got medical treatment—and so far no one's reported anyone matching her description seeking it—and she's shaken. Angry, in pain, confidence blown. Three misses in two days. What will she do now? Crawl into her hole, lick her wounds? Or find release somewhere else?"

"If she's really hurt, I'd think she'd tend to herself first."

"Maybe. But rage and revenge are damn good painkillers."

When they arrived at Jamie's the lights on the main level blazed. The holiday tree shone defiantly through the glass. And through the glass Eve saw the living room screen, all color and movement.

The uniform who answered the door looked a little abashed. And no surprise, Eve thought, considering the volume of the basketball game running on screen, and the shouts of the other uniform and Jamie at a three-point swish.

"Ah, we thought we'd keep him entertained," the uniform said.

Eve glanced at the spread of chips, soft drinks, Christmas cookies, some sort of chunky salsa.

"I can see that."

Jamie, young, fit, his sandy hair a little longer than the last time she'd seen him, jumped up from his slouch on the sofa. He'd caught Eve in a hug before she could stop him. Which offset, she guessed, catching two uniforms gorging on junk food and sports.

He gave Roarke the same treatment, then shook back his hair. "Good you came by, but you didn't have to. We're all tucked. Appreciate the badges, too, but nobody's getting in I don't want in. They made Mom feel better though."

"Where is she?"

"I finally talked her into going to bed. About twenty minutes ago."

"She can sleep through this?"

"Gave her a soother, and earplugs." He grinned. "Glad I was home when this went down, but like I said, nobody was getting in. Even a master would set off an alarm. I rigged up a system," he told Roarke. "Full-house program—motion, weight shift, light sensitive, with the master alert. Layered it over your basic shutdown and scream."

"Did you now?"

"A prototype—experimental yet. I've been working on it with your RD on winter break. Deal's a deal."

"It is indeed."

Roarke paid for Jamie's college, in exchange for the work as he considered the boy a blooming genius in electronics.

"Glitch is—I hadn't thought of it," he continued, "using a master that doesn't work. I'm going to fiddle with that some. If it had worked, the secondary locks would've engaged, and the alarm would've sounded. As it was, you took care of that."

"You've got cams?" Eve asked.

"Oh, damn straight." He pulled a micro disc, sealed, out of his pocket. "Got your copy here. I viewed the feed. Can't see much of her face, but maybe you can enhance that. She's favoring her right arm, and you'll see her left's shaking some when she tries the master. Shoves it in twice, then actually thumps her fist on the door a couple times. That's what alerted me—just before you tagged Mom. I was up working—sort of—and the contact with the door set off an alert. No big, I figured. I got some friends might come by anytime. I switched my screen to the cam—nobody there. Hey, you want a drink or something? Mom stocked up on everything for the holidays. We're flush."

She could see that from the coffee table spread. "No, thanks."

"Well, anyway, I was going to go down, check the system, and that's when you tagged my mom. I could hear her, tell she was freaked over something. I got the gist, hit total lockdown—and full lights."

He grinned.

"Neighbors might be a little steamed, but if anybody was out there, still thinking about trying to get in, that would make them think a lot more."

"I'd like a look at the system," Roarke told him.

"Yeah, sure."

"Later." Eve held up a hand to stop the two geeks. "I'm leaving the uniforms, keep your mother feeling settled. And I'm going to add a patrol, but I don't think you're going to get another visitor. She missed twice tonight, so if she hits again, it's not going to be a place as secure as the freaking Pentagon."

"Twice?"

"She tried for Nadine."

"Nadine." The excitement whisked out of Jamie's face. "Is she okay? Was she hurt?"

"Shaken up, not hurt. Safe, secured."

"This is the UNSUB—Bastwick and Ledo. I follow," Jamie said to Eve. "Bastwick wasn't a fan. I figured you busted Ledo a time or two."

"His chops, sure."

Jamie nodded, and his eyes no longer looked so young. He had cop in there, Eve thought, however Roarke might wish the boy would stick with RD. "Nadine, and now me and Mom. She did the switch. She's trying for people you care about now."

"That's the theory, so take precautions. Nobody comes in the house you don't know. You don't open the door, period, to anyone you don't know. No exceptions. Not for a cop I don't personally clear, not for a city worker yelling gas leak, not for a delivery, not for anything."

"Got it. I won't take chances with my mom, you can believe it."

She did—he was a good son, and all his mother had, so she did. But she was still leaving the cops.

···

By the time they got home, Eve felt she'd been gone for days. She needed her office, and an hour, one hour to get everything down, and in order, and out of her head.

Roarke picked up a memo cube from a table in the foyer.

Summerset's voice droned out.

Ms. Furst is in the Gold Suite as it's a favorite of hers. I was able to convince her to take a mild soother and allow me to treat the minor injuries to her arm and her calf. While she indicated she would be up, working, when you arrived home, I believe the soother will counteract that intention.

I hope both of you will follow her example and get a reasonable night's rest.

Eve tossed her coat over the newel post. "It's good she's out—assuming he's right on that. I don't want to have to deal with her tonight. She'll have questions, and I don't want to hear them."

Roarke tossed his coat on top of Eve's. "I'll check on the searches, program another with the images from tonight."

"I need to look at the feed from Nadine's, from Jamie's."

"I'd like to see those myself. Let's do that first." He held out a hand for the discs. "I'll set it up. You get the coffee. One condition," he added.

"I don't like conditions."

"That's a pity, but here's mine. You'll take a soother before you go to bed. You're pale, Eve, and you're tired—mind and body. So I won't push you not to work, and I'll help you with it. But when it's done, you'll take the soother."

"I'll take one if you take one."

"That's a deal then." He gave her butt a pat as they walked into her office. "Into the kitchen now, darling, and make us some coffee."

"You think that's cute?"

"It's adorable, at least at this time of night."

Whatever time it was, there was work. So she made the coffee, and added a handful of her secret stash of cookies.

Roarke's eyebrows lifted when she brought it all out. "Well now, this must be love. You sharing the biscuits."

"They're cookies. Biscuits are hot bread you smother in butter or gravy. Remember which side of the Atlantic you're on, ace."

"Whatever they're called, they're welcome." He took one, bit in. "Computer, run first disc."

Cradling her coffee, Eve watched the UNSUB buzz at Nadine's exterior door. Head and face averted, but not covered this time. That straggle of hair showing. No audio, so again the voice was lost. No chance of running a voice print.

"Nothing on the clothing. No labels, emblems, logos. But Nadine's right. Not five-ten. Five-eight's about right. Knows the building again," Eve continued. "Knows how to angle herself to keep her face off camera. We're going to find somebody who saw her in there. Somebody's going to have seen her."

"Here come the girls." Roarke sipped his coffee as he watched them. "And that is what being in hilarity looks like."

It looked like being piss-faced drunk, Eve thought, the way they leaned into each other, eyes bright, laughing.

"Look at her hands," Eve said. "Balling into fists. Angry. At the girls? At life? The girls annoy. All that laughing and talking. They infuriated. Jesus, she's reaching in her pocket. Right pocket. And yeah, her hand's shaking some."

"Barely holding on to control."

The girls clumped toward the opening elevator door. Eve caught Thea glancing back—just a quick swivel.

"Sensitive enough to have felt something dark, something dangerous," Roarke said. "Relieved to be away from it."

"She's trying to relax again. Slowly flexing, unflexing her fingers, breathing in and out, shaking out her arms."

When she exited the elevator Eve cursed the lack of hall cams. "Run it forward, will you? Let's see if she shows more when she leaves."

"Computer, skip feed until subject reappears."

Subject does not appear in any further elevator feed. Exterior cam only.

"Run it."

She burst out of the door. Eve saw only the back of her, shoulders hunched, right arm tucked in.

"Run it again, slow it down."

Top of the head for a second, back for a few more. Shaking, clearly shaking all over and favoring her right arm.

"Nothing much we can use there. Let's see Jamie's."

Roarke cued it up, then grinned like a boy, gestured toward the screen with his coffee. "Look at the resolution there, would you? Like crystal it is, and this from a unit he cobbled together himself."

"It may be crystal, but she's still smart enough, still has herself in control enough to keep her face off cam. Damn it. But yeah, yeah, she's hurt. Nadine did a number on her with a fricking herbal lighter. Maybe a quick stop en route for an ice pack or a blocker, something, because there's a time lag."

"She might've taken that time to pull herself back together," Roarke suggested.

"Yeah, just as likely. But she's still shaking, still running on rage. Freeze it! There, right there, just for a second, she loses it. Master doesn't work, and she shifts. A lot of shadows on her face, but we've got some of it—more than before. Can you clean that up?"

"With a bit of time and effort, yes."

"Name your price."

"Well now, I don't work cheap." He slid a hand around her waist, danced his fingers up her ribs.

"I'll give you an IOU."

"I'll take it."

"We've got more of her," Eve noted. "Just a little more. She got sloppy, and we've got more."

···

She wept, wept and wept. Everything she'd wanted in the world, all her hopes, her dreams, her needs, shattered like glass.

How could it all go so wrong? She'd done everything, been so careful, so patient. So true. And now it was all for nothing.

There was no meaning now, no goal, no joy.

The skin on her wrist and forearm was raw and blistered, and the pain like hot knives cutting.

She could fix it, she knew how to fix it. But what was the point? Her life was over, wasn't it? Her purpose gone, erased. It had been a false purpose, as the single person she'd depended on was false.

All lies, she thought. Everything a lie.

So she'd end it. No one would care; no one ever had. She had nothing and no one now. She knew how to end it—a dozen ways to die. She had only to pick one and slide away into yet another form of oblivion.

Empty death after an empty life.

She lifted her head, and there was Eve, looking back at her. She could hear the voice—and there was purpose.

Stop sniveling! Act! You know what to do. You've always known. All the rest was play. There's only one way we can really be partners, be friends, be together. Are you strong enough, finally? Or are you still a coward?

"Don't say that! Don't say I'm a coward. I've killed for you. Look what she did!"

She held out her blistered wrist to the photo, and saw Eve sneer.

You wasted your time with her, with the boy. It's always been about us. Clock's ticking. The ball's going to drop. It's the end of the year, so out with the old. In with the new.

Hope, the first rays, broke in her heart. "Is it what you really want?"

It's what has to be. You'll convince me. You'll do what's best for us. Better get started.

"Yes, I'd better get started. I know what to do."

Ignoring her burning wrist, she got up, took the body armor out of her supply closet.

Yes, yes, she could make this work. She knew what to do.

She knew how to end it. It had to end to begin, just like one year ended so the new could dawn.

They'd end together, and begin.