"Split screen," she ordered, "Victims One and Two, from beginning."
Sharon's cat smile, Lola's pout. Both women looked toward the camera, toward the man behind it. Spoke to him.
"Freeze images," Eve said so softly only the sharp ears of the computer could have heard her. "Oh God, what have we here?"
It was a small thing, a slight thing, and with the eyes focused on the brutality of the murders, easily missed. But she saw it now, through Sharon's eyes. Through Lola's.
Lola's gaze was angled higher.
The height of the beds could account for it, Eve told herself as she added Georgie's image to the screen. Each woman had their head tilted. After all, they were sitting, he very likely standing. But the angle of the eyes, the point at which they stared… Only Sharon's was different.
Still watching the screen, Eve called Dr. Mira.
"I don't care what she's doing," Eve spat out at the drone working reception. "It's urgent."
She snarled as she was put on hold and her ears assaulted with mindless, sugary music.
"Question," she said the moment Mira was on the line.
"Yes, lieutenant."
"Is it possible we have two killers?"
"A copycat? Unlikely, lieutenant, given as much of the method and style of the murders has been kept under wraps."
"Shit leaks. I've got breaks in pattern. Small ones, but definite breaks." Impatient, she outlined them. "Theory, doctor. The first murder committed by someone who knew Sharon well, who killed on impulse, then had enough control to clean up behind himself well. The second two are reflections of the first crime, fined down, thought through, committed by someone cold, calculating, with no connection to his victims. And goddamn it, he's taller."
"It's a theory, lieutenant. I'm sorry, but it's just as likely, even more so, that all three murders were committed by one man who grows more calculating with each success. In my professional opinion, no one who wasn't privy to the first crime, to the stages of it, could have so perfectly mirrored the events in the second two."
Her computer had ditched her theory as well, with a forty-eight-five. "Okay, thanks." Deflated, Eve disconnected. Stupid to be disappointed, she told herself. How much worse could it be if she were after two men instead of one?
Her 'link buzzed again. Teeth bared in annoyance, she flipped on. "Dallas, What?"
"Hey, Lieutenant Sugar, a guy might think you didn't care."
"I don't have time to play, Charles."
"Hey, don't cut me off. I got something for you."
"Or for lame innuendoes – "
"No, really. Boy, flirt with a woman once or twice and she never takes you seriously." His perfect face registered hurt. "You asked me to call if I remembered anything, right?"
"Right." Patience, she warned herself. "So, did you?"
"It was the diaries that got me thinking. You know how I said she was always recording everything. Since you're looking for them, I figure they weren't over at her place."
"You should be a detective."
"I like my line of work. Anyhow, I started wondering where she might put them for safekeeping. And I remembered the safe-deposit box."
"We've already checked it. Thanks, anyway."
"Oh. Well, how'd you get into it without me? She's dead."
Eve paused on the point of cutting him off. "Without you?"
"Yeah. A couple, three years ago, she asked me to sign for one for her. Said she didn't want her name on the record."
Eve's heart began to thump. "Then what good would it do her?"
Charles's smile was sheepish and charming. "Well, technically, I signed her on as my sister. I've got one in Kansas City. So we listed Sharon as Annie Monroe. She paid the rent, and I just forgot about it, I can't even say for sure if she kept it, but I thought you might want to know."
"Where's the bank?"
"First Manhattan, on Madison."
"Listen to me, Charles. You're home, right?"
"That's right."
"You stay there. Right there. I'll be over in fifteen minutes. We're going to go banking, you and me."
"If that's the best I can do. Hey, did I give you a hot lead, Lieutenant Sugar?"
"Just stay put."
She was up and shrugging into her jacket when her 'link buzzed again. "Dallas."
"Dispatch, Dallas. We have a transmission on hold for you. Video blocked. Refuses to identify."
"Tracing?"
"Tracing now."
"Then put it through." She swung up her bag as the audio clicked. "This is Dallas."
"Are you alone?" It was a female voice, tremulous.
"Yes. Do you want me to help you?"
"It wasn't my fault. You have to know it wasn't my fault."
"No one's blaming you." Training had Eve picking up on both fear and grief. "Just tell me what happened."
"He raped me. I couldn't stop him. He raped me. He raped her, too. Then he killed her. He could kill me."
"Tell me where you are." She studied her screen, waiting for the trace to come through. "I want to help, but I have to know where you are."
Breath hitching, a whimper. "He said it was supposed to be a secret. I couldn't tell. He killed her so she couldn't tell. Now there's me. No one will believe me."
"I believe you. I'll help you. Tell me – " She swore as the transmission broke. "Where?" she demanded after switching to dispatch.
"Front Royal, Virginia. Number seven oh three, five five five, thirty-nine oh eight. Address – "
"I don't need it. Get me Captain Ryan Feeney in EDD. Fast."
Two minutes wasn't fast enough. Eve nearly drilled a hole in her temple rubbing it while she waited. "Feeney, I've got something, and it's big."
"What?"
"I can't go into it yet, but I need you to go pick up Charles Monroe."
"Christ, Eve, have we got him?"
"Not yet. Monroe's going to take you to Sharon's other safe box. You take good care of him, Feeney. We're going to need him. And you take damn good care of whatever you find in the box."
"What are you going to be doing?"
"I've got to catch a plane." She broke transmission, then called Roarke. It took another three minutes of very precious time before he came on-line.
"I was about to call you, Eve. It looks like I have to fly to Dublin. Care to join me?"
"Roarke, I need your plane. Now. I have to get to Virginia fast. If I go through channels or take public transport – "
"The plane will be ready for you. Terminal C, Gate 22."
She closed her eyes. "Thanks. I owe you."
Her gratitude lasted until she arrived at the gate and found Roarke waiting for her.
"I don't have time to talk." Her voice was a snap, her long legs eating up the distance from gate to lift.
"We'll talk on the plane."
"You're not going with me. This is official – "
"This is my plane, lieutenant," he interrupted smoothly as the lift closed them in together, gliding silently up.
"Can't you do anything without strings?"
"Yes. This isn't one of them." The hatch opened. The flight attendant waited efficiently.
"Welcome aboard, sir, lieutenant. Can I offer you refreshments?"
"No, thank you. Have the pilot take off as soon as we're cleared." Roarke took his seat while Eve stood fuming. "We can't take off until you're seated and secured."
"I thought you were going to Ireland." She could argue with him just as easily sitting down.
"It's not a priority. This is. Eve, before you state your case, I'll outline mine. You're going to Virginia in quite a rush. That points to the DeBlass case and some new information. Beth and Richard are friends, close friends. I don't have many close friends, nor do you. Reverse situations. What would you do?"