New York to Dallas

18

Annalyn started to step on the elevator as Eve and Roarke got off.

She moved back.

“I was just on my way in. I’ve been splitting time between Melinda and Darlie, Darlie’s parents, Bree, her parents, the doctors.” She rubbed her eyes. “You see it, you see it in this job. You never get used to it.”

“Good cops don’t,” Eve said, and had Annalyn dropping her hands.

“Well, I’m a damn good cop today.”

“Do they still want to talk to me?”

“Yeah. Melinda convinced Darlie she should. She’s made you out to be the monster slayer. It’s a good thing,” she added when Eve winced. “It’s helping the kid. The idea there are slayers, since she knows monsters are real. Melly’s ambulatory. They want her in bed, resting, but she’s in and out of the kid’s room. That helps, too. It’s helping them both.”

She raised her eyebrows at the box Roarke held. “If that’s a gift, it’s really sparkly.”

“It’s evidence. We found it at the duplex.”

“What? Where? I didn’t see anything like that on the evidence list. I’ve been keeping in touch.”

“She had a hide in the bedroom closet. I played a hunch,” Eve added. “And we got lucky.”

“We could use some luck. Missing that son of a bitch today, losing Malvie.” She looked back down the hall. “I keep reminding myself we got Melly and the girl back safe. But Malvie’s dead, and McQueen’s in the wind.”

“She’s got some correspondence from McQueen in here.”

“No shit?”

“None, and some names, some data. If you’re going in, you can start the runs. There’s a photo of him, too. She took it while he was sleeping. There’s a champagne bottle in it. My source here tells me it’s pretty special.”

“There’s only two outlets for that label and vintage in Dallas,” Roarke told her. “Vin Belle and Personal Sommelier.”

“And he may get a yen for more.” Annalyn reached for the box. “I’ll get this in. If we hit anything, you’ll be the first.”

“My people are working on some of the New York data in there. You can connect with Detective Peabody.”

“Will do.” She called for the elevator again, glanced back as she got on. “You’re a good cop,” she said to Eve. “So the kid’s going to break your heart.”

“I’m going to take Melinda first,” Eve told Roarke as she walked toward the nurses’ station. “She’ll be okay with you in there if you want to be. With the kid, it’s better if you stay out.”

“If you don’t need me, I’ll find a spot, see if Feeney and I can make any progress.”

“Better yet.” She offered her badge at the station. “Lieutenant Dallas.”

“Yes, you’re cleared. Melinda—Ms. Jones—would like you to see her first. She’s in six-twelve. We arranged for Darlie to be across the hall.”

“Thanks.”

She started down the corridor. She hated hospitals, hated the memory of being in one, in this city, broken and traumatized like the child across the hall from Melinda. And the cops asking questions she couldn’t answer, the sorrowful sympathy the medicals couldn’t hide when they worked on her.

She hesitated outside Melinda’s door. Should she knock? she wondered. Instead she shifted to look through the small window, saw both sisters in the narrow hospital bed. Oddly it was the cop who slept, an arm around her sister’s waist.

Eve eased the door open.

“Lieutenant Dallas.” Melinda spoke quietly, smiled. “She’s so tired. I don’t think she slept since . . . Our parents just went to get us both some fresh clothes, some things. They really want to see you again, to thank you again.”

“There are a lot of people to thank. I’m surprised Detective Price isn’t hovering.”

A pretty little light came into Melinda’s eyes. “I said something about pizza. My favorite place is over in our neighborhood. He went to get me some—wouldn’t take no.”

“It helps to have something to do.”

“I know. Just as I know Bree and Jayson will go back to work when they’re sure I’m all right. I’m all right, but they’re not sure.”

“I can come back later. No point waking her up.”

“I’m awake.” Bree’s eyes fluttered open. “Sorry, I went out for a minute.” She sat up, took her sister’s hand.

It was like looking at slightly altered dupes, Eve thought. Not exact, not identical, but damn near.

“It’s like a replay,” Bree began. “It’s not, not even close for the two of us. But you came in the hospital room before.”

“And the two of you were in the same bed. I remember. You were asleep that time,” Eve said to Melinda.

“It was weeks before I could sleep without Bree holding on to me. You look tired.”

“I guess we all are.”

“Would you sit? We can get you some coffee, something to eat.”

“I grabbed something.” But she sat on the side of the bed as Melinda indicated. “Do you want to go over it again?”

“Darlie needs to. I used you and Bree, over and over, to give her hope, to give her something to hold on to. He didn’t rape me. He only hit me once in anger, and that was almost an afterthought. They kept me drugged at first, but I stopped drinking the water. He killed his partner. I saw—”

“Yes.”

“Sarajo—well, that’s how I knew her. I keep asking myself why I didn’t see she was a liar, that she’d duped me.”

“She was a pro.”

“I wanted to help her, and thought I had. When she contacted me again, so shaky, so urgent, I didn’t think twice. I played right into it.”

“Do you need me to tell you it’s not your fault?”

“No. I had plenty of time to replay it, rethink it. You have to trust, or you’re only living half a life. You have to try to help or even that half is empty. I believed her. I was concerned because I suspected she was on something, but I thought it was because she was so frightened. I let her into my car, I drove away from the diner where we’d agreed to meet because she asked me to. I pulled over because she asked me to.

“I never saw it coming. I felt it.” Melinda lifted a hand to the side of her neck. “And still I didn’t understand. Not until he was there. Right there.”

She closed her eyes a minute, then laid a hand over Eve’s. “I thought of you. Of Bree, then of you when I woke up in that room. In the dark, like before. But it wasn’t like before. I was alone, an adult.”

She opened her eyes. “This time I was bait. He made that clear, let me know he wasn’t interested in me like before. I wasn’t . . . fresh enough. He had her bring me food most of the time. Once she stood there, ate it in front of me. She hated me. I think she hated me most of all because I’d tried to help her.”

“Sick, twisted bitch,” Bree stated, and Eve said nothing. Could say nothing.

“She hated everything about me, and you,” Melinda said to Eve. “She taunted me with you. How they were going to lock you in there, how they were going to hurt you, teach you a lesson for what you did. How they were going to make a fortune selling you—Are you all right?” she asked when Eve jerked.

“Yeah. Fine.”

“I should’ve said pretending to sell you. I think she wanted you dead as much as he did, maybe more. She was obsessed with him. And couldn’t see, just couldn’t see how he despised her. She couldn’t see his contempt. He let me see it, like it was our little private joke. Then they brought Darlie.”

Tears shimmered now, and Bree brought Melinda’s hand to her cheek.

“He made sure I knew he was going after a girl—that’s a kind of torture. Sarajo threw her in after they’d finished with her. They left the lights on so I could see what they’d done to her.”

“Having you there helped her.”

“It’s a horrible thing, but having her helped me. Someone who needed me, someone I could comfort and counsel and tend to. When he came back for Darlie the next day, I did everything I could to distract him. She wasn’t there, the partner. I’d studied him, so I used that. I got him to talk to me—to converse. He enjoyed it, and sat there for a long time, showing off his knowledge of literature, art.”

“Did he tell you anything personal? Anything he planned, anything that could tell us where he’d go?”

“I don’t think so. It was all this lofty, cocktail-party sort of conversation. I kept it that way. I was afraid if I asked him anything, he’d remember Darlie.”

“What was he wearing?”

“Oh . . . ah.”

“Try to think back,” Eve prompted, “picture him there.”

“A crewneck with the sleeves pushed up. Very classic, and navy blue. Casual pants, but good ones. Buff colored, I think. Yes, with an embossed brown belt and silver buckle.” Her forehead creased as she concentrated. “Silver buckles on his shoes. They matched the belt. He had a leather sheath on the belt. Once I wondered if I could get him to come over, somehow get the knife out of the sheath.

“It had initials on it, the sheath. I’d forgotten that.”

“What initials?”

“His. I. M. I am,” she murmured. “He must love that.”

“On it,” Bree said before Eve could speak, and rolled out of bed, already pulling out her ’link.

“Did you notice anything else? Jewelry?”

“Silver wrist unit. It looked like a good one. A monogrammed leather sheath. You can trace that. I know that.” Frustration vibrating, Melinda pressed a hand to the side of her head. “I didn’t think before.”

“Give yourself a break,” Eve suggested. “You held on, and more, you held him off from taking the kid for another round.”

“He got bored. I’d amused him for a while, but he knew what I was doing. He would have taken her, but the partner contacted him. He looked puzzled at first, let it go to v-mail. Then he was furious. He didn’t rage, but he was so angry. He took out the knife. I knew he meant to kill us, but he just stood there.”

“Stood there?”

“Just stood there for a minute, looking blank, looking like someone who’d lost their train of thought or forgotten what they’d meant to do next.”

Eve’s eyes sharpened. “He wasn’t sure what to do?”

“Yes, but it was more like he couldn’t remember, or couldn’t decide. Then he just turned around and walked out, locked us in again. I kept waiting for him to come back, to come back with the knife. That was the worst of all of it. Waiting for him to come back with the knife, and knowing I wouldn’t be able to stop him.”

She fought off a shudder. “Why didn’t he come back?”

“The extra time, extra mess, lack of interest. The sudden, unexpected change in plans.” Eve hesitated, then decided Melinda deserved the full truth. “And he knows you won’t forget him, either of you. That’s important to him.”

“He marked her.” Melinda laid her fingertips on her heart. “And me, again. We can have it erased, like I did before. But it’s always going to be there.”

“You got through it. So will she.”

“I hope you’re right. You never get over it. You can’t. So you have to get through it. She’s one of us now, poor little girl. One of his numbers.”

“You’re not a number, Melinda, to anyone but him. You should remember that. Remember he tried to make you one twice, but he couldn’t.” Eve got to her feet. “And when he’s back in prison, go see him again, and show him that.”

“Will you talk to Darlie now?”

“Yeah. If you remember anything else, just let me know.”

When she stepped out into the hall, Bree walked up to her. “We’re tracing the leather sheath. It’s a good lead.”

“Look at the clothes, too. The belt and shoes especially. She bought some of the wardrobe for him, but he’d want to shop for himself after being caged. Browse, touch fabrics. Maybe he did a little shopping when he went to the bank. He might want to replace some of the things he had to leave behind.”

“I’ll work from here. They’re bringing in a cot so I can stay with her tonight. It’s not likely he’ll come back for either of them, but—”

“He won’t be back, but why take chances? Stay with your sister.” She crossed the hall, turned back. “He’s not as smart as he thinks he is, not this time. He’s caught up in being out, in being free as much as by the plans he made. He wants his fashionable wardrobe, his good wines. He needs them after being denied for so long. He can’t stay under long, it’s like being back in a cage.”

“And he’ll want another girl.”

“Yeah.”

Thinking of that, Eve opened the door to Darlie’s room.

The mother sat on the bed, an arm curved around Darlie’s shoulder, with the father flanking the other side. Eve’s entrance had interrupted. She could see the father desperately trying to make Darlie smile or laugh.

Tears shimmered in his eyes as he turned toward Eve.

“I’m Lieutenant Dallas.”

“I remember.” The mother stood up. “You were at the mall when . . . I remember. We’re so grateful, my husband and I, and Darlie.”

“I saw you. You came in the room.” Darlie’s gaze fixed on Eve. “You came in, and you said we were safe.”

“You are safe now.”

“Melinda said you’d come.” Her fingers fretted with the hospital sheet. “Where’s Melinda?”

“She’s right across the hall.”

“Did you find him yet? Did you find him and put him back in jail?”

“Working on it.”

Darlie took a little sobbing breath that had her father’s face crumbling, and her mother moving in to take her hand.

“I’d like to speak with Darlie alone.”

“She’s already gone over everything,” Mr. Morgansten began. “She really needs to—”

“It’s okay. It’s okay, Daddy. I want to talk to her. Melinda said. It’s okay.”

“We’ll give you a little time.” Mrs. Morgansten stood up, hovered a moment. “Let’s go outside,” she suggested to her husband.

“I . . . We’ll go get you that ice cream,” he said to Darlie. “How’s that?”

“Okay.”

“Fudge Sludge, right? Your fave. You’re a slave to your fave.”

“That’s the best.”

“We won’t be long.” He bent down, kissed her. When he turned to go, the look he sent Eve was a painful morass of guilt and grief and terrible hope.

“My dad’s been crying,” Darlie said when they were alone. “He tries not to, but he can’t help it. He’s trying to make it better, but he can’t.”

Faced with the girl’s misery and exhausted pain, Eve missed Peabody like a limb. Her partner would know what to say, how to say it, how to reach both the child and her parents.

“I can’t tell my dad what he did to me. I can’t talk about it, not to my dad. I want to tell my mom, but I don’t know how. I was stupid, so it’s my fault. I can’t tell them.”

“How were you stupid?”

“I’m not supposed to talk to people I don’t know, like that woman. If I hadn’t—”

“She was nice,” Eve began. “She looked nice, normal. And you were right in the store, with lots of other people around, your friend right in the dressing room.”

“She said she was going to buy a present for somebody—I can’t remember. It was a really mag dress, and she just wanted to ask me if I liked it. It’s all mixed up.”

“I bet your parents taught you to be polite to adults.”

“Sure, but—”

“And you were in a store you know, with other people, the salespeople, your friend. And a nice woman asked you a question. You weren’t stupid to answer it, and she counted on you being polite, being raised well. It’s not your fault she wasn’t nice. None of it’s your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t do anything to deserve what happened to you.”

“You don’t understand.” The tears started, slow, thick drops sliding down her cheeks. “The other police don’t understand. You can’t.”

“Yes, I can.”

Darlie shook her head, fierce now. “You can’t. You don’t know.”

“I do know.”

Eve’s tone had Darlie swiping at tears, staring at her. Then her lips trembled. “Was it him? Was it Isaac?”

“No. It was someone like him.”

“You got away? They came and saved you?”

Blood on her hands, her face, her arms. Wet and warm. “I got away.”

“How are you okay? How can you be okay? I’m never going to be.”

“Yes, you will. You’ve already started. You told your father you wanted ice cream, but you don’t. You said it because you didn’t want to hurt his feelings, because you want him to be all right.” She picked up a brush from the table beside the bed. “I bet you let your mother brush your hair, because she needed to do something for you.”

“It felt good when she did.”

“You’ve already started,” Eve repeated. “It won’t be quick and it won’t be easy. You’ll want it to be. They’ll want it to be. It won’t. The ones who tell you it will are the ones who can’t understand. I guess that’s not their fault, but it’s annoying and . . . it hurts some, too.”

Tears spilled as Darlie nodded her head, quick and hard.

“You’ll be pissed, you’ll be scared,” Eve continued in the same easy, matter-of-fact tone. “Now and again you’ll go back to thinking it’s your fault, which is bullshit.”

“Everybody’s going to look at me different.”

“Probably, for a while anyway. They’ll feel sorry for you, and sometimes you’ll hate that. Really hate it because you just want everything to be like it was. It’s not going to be.”

“I can’t ever go back to school.”

“That won’t fly, kid,” Eve said, and made Darlie blink. “Nice try though. You’ve got plenty of people to get you ice cream, brush your hair, hold your hand, and dry your tears. That’s good, because you’ll need them. I’m going to give it to you straight. You’ll learn to live with what happened to you. What you do with that life is up to you.”

“I’m afraid he’ll find me.”

“It’s my job to see he doesn’t.” Monster slayer, Eve thought. Maybe that would do, for now. “I’m good at my job. You don’t have to tell me what he did to you. But if you could tell me anything you remember about him and the woman, what they said to each other, or about the apartment, whether they talked to anyone else.”

“She said he should give her a tattoo, to give her a heart with his name in it. He laughed, and that made her mad. He was . . .” Like Melinda, she touched her heart. “I couldn’t move. It hurt. It burned, but I couldn’t move.”

“You were awake?”

“I could see them and hear them, but it was like I was dreaming. She said he could go ahead and stamp his little whores. She’d go get a real pro to give her a tat. He said not to do that. He didn’t want anybody marring her skin. She liked that.”

Darlie took an unsteady breath when her lips trembled. “He didn’t have any clothes on, and when he finished with the tattoo, she started . . .” Darlie’s color came up, rode high on her cheeks. “She started touching him, you know, down there. And he started touching her, but he was watching me. I felt sick, and I closed my eyes because I wanted it to be a bad dream.”

“Is there anything else about the room, or what they talked about?”

“He told her to stop, you know, the touching, and she got mad again. He said it was time for a threesome. Time to set up the camera.”

“Camera?”

“He made her get it out of the closet. It was on a stand, a vid cam on a stand. He made me drink something, and I could move. But my hands. They were tied.” She held her arms up and back. “I screamed. I was crying and trying to get away and she slapped me. Really hard. She told me . . .” Darlie glanced toward the door. “She said, ‘Shut the fuck up.’ But he told her he liked hearing the bad girls scream. And then . . .” Tears flowed again.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to think about that or talk about that, unless you’re ready. Tell me about the camera.”

“Um . . . He had it so he could take a vid of what they were doing. When—when he was—” She shut her eyes, reached up. Understanding, Eve stepped closer, gripped her hand.

“When he was raping me,” Darlie said, eyes still closed, “he told me to scream ‘help,’ to scream, ‘Help me, help me.’ I did, but he didn’t stop. He said to cry, cry, sweetheart, and to scream ‘Dallas’ over and over. I did, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t stop.”

So, Eve thought, sickened with rage, he’d thought of her when he’d raped Darlie. Even then he’d thought of her.

“Were you ever alone with him? Did the woman ever leave the room?”

“I don’t—yes. I think. It was after the first time, or the second. It gets mixed up.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“I didn’t think I could scream anymore. It hurt to scream. They were lying on the bed with me. She said she was hungry, and she wanted some candy, so he told her to go help herself. When she went out, he said maybe he’d keep me, his first new bad girl. Maybe he’d take me with him when he was done.”

“Where? Did he tell you where?”

“He wasn’t really talking to me. He was looking up at the ceiling, sort of talking to himself, I think. He said he’d find us another mommy, and we’d live it up for a while with Dallas at our feet. But he missed New York and all the bad girls. Couldn’t wait to go back home.

“Then he turned the camera back on.” Her breath started to hitch. “And he got on me. I could still scream.”

“Give it a rest awhile. You gave me a couple of things I might be able to use to catch him.”

“I did?” Darlie swiped at her cheeks. “Really?”

“What’s the point of telling you if you didn’t?”

“To make me feel better.”

“Hey, you’re getting ice cream. You’re already going to feel better.”

Whether it was surprise or genuine humor, a smile ghosted around Darlie’s lips. “You’re funny.”

“I’m a barrel of monkeys, kid, though mostly I figure monkeys stuck in a barrel are just going to be pissed off.”

The laugh tripped out, a little rusty, a little weak, but it fell into the room just as Darlie’s parents came back in. At the sound of it, Mrs. Morgansten’s eyes filled.

“Good timing.” Eve got to her feet. “We’re just finished here.”

“We got you a cone.” Mr. Morgansten lurched forward, holding out a cone topped with a scoop of chocolate goo.

“Now you’ll feel better, too,” Darlie told her.

“Looks like. Thanks.”

“Lieutenant Dallas?” Darlie took the cone her father gave her, but continued to stare at Eve. “Will you tell me when you catch him and put him back in jail?”

“You’ll be the first. That’s a promise.”

She stepped outside, leaned against the wall a moment, just to breathe. She studied the door across the hall, but just couldn’t face going back in. Enough, she told herself. Just enough for now.

She took out her ’link, noted the goo dribbling down the cone. What the hell, she thought, and licked at it.

Roarke came on screen.

“I’m done here, and have a couple things to follow up on. Where—”

“You have ice cream?”

“Yeah, it was a gift.”

“I wouldn’t mind ice cream.”

“Anybody who does is just sad. I’m heading back to the car, so—”

“Why don’t I walk with you,” he said, coming out of a room on the right as she walked to the elevator. “And share your ice cream.”

“I think it’s Fudge Sludge.”

“An unfortunate name.” He leaned down, sampled. “But tasty. How’s the girl?”

“Wounded, fragile, and stronger than she thinks she is. Between her and Melinda I got matching brown leather shoes and belt—both with silver buckles, a leather knife sheath, monogrammed I.M., and a vid cam with tripod. He never used a cam before. None of the other vics mentioned being recorded.”

“A recording can be found, and would incriminate. From what I read in his file, he didn’t need that kind of thing. He doesn’t have to relive what he can simply live again.”

“Exactly. He had the girls. If he wanted a replay, he could just pick one. He didn’t document because he’s smart.”

“But he’s not attempting to hide what he’s doing this time. He’s already convicted. So he needs the vid to relive the moment, at least between victims?”

“I don’t think so. He made it for me. This thing’s dripping.”

Roarke took out a spotless white handkerchief, sacrificed it by wrapping it around the cone. And took payment in ice cream before handing it back. “For you?”

“He made her scream for me while he was raping her.”

“Christ. That’s it for my appetite.”

In agreement, she tossed the cone in a recycler. “I’m going to check the evidence list, but I didn’t see any cam or tripod on it. So he took it with him, which says he means to use it again.”

“Another girl?” At her hesitation, his jaw tightened. “No, you’re saying he means to use it with you, not for you. To record you, once he has you. Perhaps for me, perhaps just for himself.”

“It demonstrates he’s still confident. And she gave me another tidbit that confirms—in my mind—he’s still here.”

She opened the car door, slid inside.

“When his partner left the room for a snack and a hit, he talked about keeping Darlie. Not to her, she said, and I think she was right about that. This was thinking out loud, not indulging in his sick version of pillow talk. He talked about getting them a new mommy, and that reinforces the profile. The partners are Mommy, in his very, very sick version. He mentioned having Dallas at their feet. I can’t pin down whether he meant me or the city. Maybe both. But he did talk about going back to New York. Later.”

“You believe he already had his backup location set here.”

“I think he had it set for a long time. I’ve got to work it out in my head. I need to filter some of the excess out of my head and get to it.”

She pushed a hand through her hair. “Anyway.” She contacted Lieutenant Ricchio, relayed the data.

“I should go back to his place, get a better feel for it, for what he took, what he left. What he—”

“And how is adding yet more helping you sift through the extra crap in your head?”

“Shoving more in there gives me more to work through, and with. I couldn’t get a feel for the place before. It was too crowded, and . . . I wasn’t at my best.”

He said nothing for a moment. “Mira’s at the hotel.”

“I’m not ready for Mira. I’m not ready to yank my mind and guts open. I need to feel I’ve done all I can. I need to do what I’d do under any other circumstances. What I’d do is go back to the scene.”

“All right, we’ll go back to the scene. Then that’s enough, Eve. That’s bloody all for the day.”

Not if they got any sort of a hit, she thought, but didn’t argue.

“Park in the garage,” she told Roarke when they approached the building. “That’s the way he’d have gone in and out routinely.”

She got out of the car. Minimum security, but still it was there. He’d have jammed the cameras when he brought Melinda, then Darlie in. Dallas EDD would work with the discs. If they pulled anything out, she’d take a look. But for now . . .

“You know he may have kept the second ride here, right under her nose. How would she know? Why pay to store it somewhere else, and have to go get it? Plus, it’s just like him. He loves screwing with people, pulling the con, making them a fool.”

“I asked for copies of the building security. We can review them.”

“Yeah, you never know.” She studied the area, the setup, and yes, began to get the feel of it. “He’d bring them in late, reduce risk of running into another resident or visitor. But he’d jam the elevator. No one up or down but him until he was inside. He puts them in a kind of twilight sleep. Walks them right up. Uses the stairs, that’s why he likes a lower floor.”

She started up. “Quiet. Quick. Confident, but excited, too. Especially this time because it’s been so long. The partner goes out first, clears the hall.”

Roarke obliged.

“And they walk the vic right in,” Eve said, stepping out, using her master to uncode the police seal.

“Melinda, straight into the holding room. But Darlie, into the bedroom.” She crossed to it. “Put her down a little deeper, secure her hands to the headboard. It’s a form of paralytic. The vic is aware, but immobilized. He can’t have her squirming around when he does the tat. He’s a perfectionist.”

She visualized it. Stripping the girl, touching her—but just a little, not too much now. Removing his clothes, putting them away. Neat and tidy. Then the tools, the tat.

“Camera’s in the closet.” She walked over, opened it. “He took the brown shoes,” she noted. “The ones Melinda remembered. He took time to select what he’d pack. Nothing rushed or spur of the moment. Nothing carelessly discarded. Except the shirt with his partner’s blood on it.”

She studied the ties again, the duplicates, thought of Melinda’s statement. Just stood there—indecisive.

Considering, she fingered the sleeve of a jacket, a shirt. “Nice. Nice material. He must’ve hated leaving some of this, especially since he couldn’t have had time to wear a lot of it. He’ll want replacements. Will he wait until New York? I don’t know. Can’t say.”

She stepped out of the closet.

“Dallas at their feet. If he means the city, he’s got a place posher than this. He’s tired of the middle-class scene. He bought too many swanky clothes to suit this neighborhood. Not just a few select pieces like before. So, he’s planning, he’s thinking it’s time to move up, where he belongs. He’ll need to bring me there now, so it’s either set up for that or he needs to do it.”

She walked into the bath, stood there, studied, moved out and on, back into the living area where her mother’s blood stained the floor.

Did she believe herself unaffected by it, Roarke wondered. Didn’t she realize she looked at everything but the blood?

“He spends a lot of time out here. He likes the space. A cage is so confining. He can watch Melinda, then Darlie on the monitor, or catch up with some screen, listen to music, read. But he’d get itchy. He needs to be out and about. He needs the city. He’ll go out, seek out places with people. Shops, restaurants, galleries, clubs. After he sends the partner away, he’d go out. He’d want to go out, get the smell of her out of his nose. Put on a new persona, sit at a bar or a table in some trendy club. Strike up conversations, flirt with some woman. If he could run a game, so much the better. Then he’d come back, lock up, check on his ‘guests.’ Maybe have a drink while he counted up his take. Then he’d sleep like a baby.”

She walked to the kitchen, checked the AutoChef, the friggie, the cabinets. “He left a lot of this behind, and you know, there’s a lot of duplication here, too. Does anybody need a half-dozen jars of stuffed olives?”

“Hoarding?” Roarke suggested.

“Yeah, maybe.” But she wasn’t so sure of that now. “He has to leave a lot behind because it’s too annoying and time-consuming to repack food. He can get more. Check gourmet food shops, that should be on the list. And clubs, the trendy ones. If we can find out where he went the nights he abducted Melinda, then Darlie, we’d know what he’s looking for in late-night entertainment.”

“He wouldn’t go back. He’d look for fresh,” Roarke said when she turned and frowned at him. “And wouldn’t go back on the off chance whoever he played as a mark came in as well.”

“You’re probably right. Good thought. So if we can find, we eliminate. But we’d have a style.”

She walked to the window, looked out, looked down.

Dallas at our feet, she thought again.

“He talked about staying in a hotel penthouse. High life. Upper floors, higher price, higher life. If he changed his MO with this second location, we’re looking for a top level, good view. Big windows, maybe a terrace. Lots of open. More, I think, in the center of things. The rest applies. At least two bedrooms, on-site garage.”

She shut her eyes, trying to think. “One of those corporate apartments, maybe, or a long-lease rental? Or—”

“You’re clutching now because you’re tired. You’re tired, Eve, and trying not to think you’re standing a foot away from where your mother bled out hours ago. But you are thinking it. This isn’t the place for you to think clearly or well, and you need to accept it.”

“I think,” she said slowly, deliberately, “he left food, wine, clothes, equipment behind. But he took some of everything with him. I think he carefully selected the best of each category. I think he did that because he was moving to a better location. And, I think, if we focus on high floors—even top floors of more upscale buildings, more urban center areas, more luxury accommodations, we’ll find him.”

“Then you should pass that on to your associates here so they can begin to do that.”

“I am. I will.”

“Good. You do that while I contact Mira. She can join us for a drink back at the hotel.”

“I don’t want—”

“It’s past that. You need to do this for yourself. If you won’t, then do it for me. I’m asking you, please, do this for me.”

She pulled out her ’link, but she didn’t look at him, or at the blood. She contacted Ricchio as she walked away from the crime scene.