Peabody came back in. "Security at the front entrance only. I've got the disc from last night. No cams in corridors or elevators."
"Okay. Let's talk to the neighbor."
Notifying next of kin never got easier. It never became routine. Eve stood with Peabody on the small square stoop outside the small square duplex. There were red and white geraniums arranged in a cheerful chorus line on either side of the entrance and a frill of white curtains framing the front window.
Behind them, the neighborhood was quiet as a church with its green-leafed trees and little gardens and narrow, tidy streets.
She didn't understand the suburbs with their regimental order and boxy yards and useless fences. Nor did she understand why so many considered a house in the 'burbs as a kind of mecca they would someday reach.
In her mind, everyone would someday reach a coffin, too.
She rang the bell and heard the three chimes that echoed inside. When the door opened and she said what needed to be said, nothing would ever be the same in this house again.
The woman who answered was pretty and blonde. It was the woman from the dresser photograph. Must be the mother. Eve saw the resemblance immediately.
"Mrs. Lutz?"
"Yes." Though she smiled, it was a quick reflex action, and her eyes were both puzzled and distracted. "May I help you?"
"I'm Lieutenant Dallas." Eve offered her badge. "NYPSD. This is my aide, Officer Peabody. May we come in?"
"What's this about?" The woman lifted a hand to brush at her hair, and the first sign of nerves showed in the faint tremor.
"It's about your daughter, Mrs. Lutz. It's about Grace. May we come in?"
"Grace? She's not in any trouble, is she?" The smile tried to spread, but only fell away from her face. "My Gracie's never in trouble."
So it had to be done in the doorway, with the bright flowers a soldier's guard. "Mrs. Lutz, I'm sorry to tell you Grace is dead."
Her eyes went blank. "She is not." There was a crack of irritation in her voice. "Of course she's not. What a terrible thing to say. I want you to go away right now. I want you to go away from here."
Eve braced a hand on the door before it closed in her face. "Mrs. Lutz, Grace was killed last night. I'm the primary investigator, and I'm very sorry for your loss. You need to let us in now."
"My Grace? My baby?"
Eve said nothing now, but slid an arm around the woman's waist. The door opened into the living area with a plump blue sofa and two sturdy chairs. Eve led her to the sofa, sat beside her.
"Is there someone we can call for you, Mrs. Lutz? Your husband?"
"George. George is at school. He teaches at the high school. Grace." She looked around blindly as though her daughter might walk into the room.
" Peabody, make the call."
"You've made a mistake, haven't you?" Mrs. Lutz gripped Eve's hand with frozen fingers. "That's all. You've just made a mistake. Grace works in the city, at the library on Fifth Avenue. I'll just call her and we'll all feel much better."
"Mrs. Lutz. There's no mistake."
"There has to be. George and I went into the city only Sunday and took her to dinner. She was fine." The anger and shock were breaking down so tears flooded through them. "She was fine."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"What happened to my baby? Was there an accident?"
"There wasn't an accident. Grace was murdered."
"It's just not possible." Her head shook, as if gently tugged side-to-side with invisible strings. "It's just not possible."
Eve let her weep. She knew that first roll of grief flattened everything else.
"He's on his way," Peabody murmured.
"Good. Get her some water or something."
She sat beside the sobbing woman, scanning the living area. There were books here, displayed like treasures on shelves. There was a quiet order to everything, and the sturdiness of solid middle-class living. A framed hologram of Grace stood on a table.
"What happened to my baby?"
Eve shifted, looked into Mrs. Lutz's shattered face. "Last night Grace met a man she'd been corresponding with by e-mail and in chat rooms. We believe this man doctored her drink or drinks during the evening with a substance known to be used in date rapes."
"Oh God." Mrs. Lutz wrapped her arms around her belly and began to rock. "Oh my God."
"Evidence indicates that he returned with her to her apartment, continued to give her illegals until she overdosed."
"She would never take illegals."
"We don't believe she was aware, Mrs. Lutz."
"He gave them to her because he wanted to…" She pressed her lips together in a tight white line. Then breathed out, one long ragged sound. "He raped her."
"We suspect that's true. I…" How far did you go? Eve wondered. How much could you help? "Mrs. Lutz, if it's any comfort to you, Grace wouldn't have been afraid. She wouldn't have been in pain."
"Why would anyone hurt her? What kind of person does that to an innocent young girl?"
"I can't tell you, but I can tell you I'll find him. I need you to help me."
Mrs. Lutz laid her head back. "What can I do if she's gone?"
"Did she have any boyfriends?"
"Robbie. Robbie Dwyer. They dated in high school, and a bit in the first few semesters of college. He's a nice boy. His mother and I belong to the same book club." Her voice wavered. "I suppose we'd hoped more would come of it, but it was more friendship than romance. Grace wanted to move to the city, and Robbie got a job teaching here. They drifted apart."
"How long ago did they drift?"
"If you're thinking Robbie would do this, anything like this, you're wrong. I've known him since he was a baby. Anyway, he's seeing a very nice girl now."
"Did she ever talk about anyone she was interested in, or who was interested in her? In the city?"
"No, not really. She worked very hard, and she was studying as well. She's shy. My Gracie's shy. It's hard for her to meet new people. That's why I encouraged her to move to…" She broke down again. "George wanted her to stay here, to teach and stay in the nest. I pushed her out, just little nudges, because I wanted her to fly. Now I've lost her. Will you take me to her? When George gets here, will you take us to our baby?"
"Yes. I'll take you to her."
Commander Whitney was on the 'link when he motioned Eve into his office. He didn't gesture to a chair, nor did she make any move to sit. His wide face was creased with lines, a map that showed the routes of stress, battles, and authority. His suit was a rich coffee color, nearly the same tone as his skin. In it he looked both beefy and tough. A combination, Eve had always thought, that made him appear as natural behind a desk as he did in the field.
A fluted bowl sat on the right corner of his desk. It was filled with cerulean water with smooth, colored stones shimmering in the base. While she puzzled over it, she caught the quick flash of scarlet.
"My wife," Whitney said when he ended the call. "She thinks it cheers up the office. Supposed to relax me. What the hell am I supposed to do with a damn fish?"
"I couldn't say, sir."
For a moment both of them studied the red streak that circled the bowl. Knowing the commander's wife was keen on fashion and decor, Eve searched for a polite comment.
"It's fast."
"Crazy thing spins around like that most of the day. I get tired just looking at it."
"At that rate it'll probably wear itself out and die within a couple weeks."
"Your mouth to God's ear. Where's your aide, Lieutenant?"
"I've got her running cross-checks on the two victims. We've found no evidence to support a relationship between them. They both liked books, poetry in particular. Both spent time in cyber-rooms. At this point we can't place them in the same chat or club at the same time."
He sat back. "What have you got?"
"The across-the-hall neighbor of Lutz's, Angela Nicko, found the body this morning. They had a regular morning coffee date, and when Lutz didn't show, didn't answer her door, Ms. Nicko was concerned enough to open the door with her spare key. Nicko is a retired librarian, well into her nineties."