Concealed in Death (22 page)

“Chew that damn thing and swallow it before you do. Nadine, get your ass off Baxter’s desk and into my office. Everybody else. Fight crime, for Christ’s sake.”

She strode off, relieved she’d thought to stuff the gloves in her pocket when she’d come into Central. The dressing-down would’ve been less effective while wearing red wooly gloves.

She considered tossing something over her board to conceal it, but knew very well—sneaky warm doughnuts aside—Nadine could be trusted.

“Saved you one at great personal risk.” Nadine walked in with a little pink bakery box.

“Thanks.” Eve considered trying to hide it, but the scent would guide a cop’s nose straight to the concealment. And she didn’t want to risk a hunt that might turn up her current candy hiding place.

“Those are the girls you’ve ID’d?” At home—and how did
that
happen?—Nadine tossed her fur-trimmed scarlet coat on Eve’s visitor’s chair, stepped to the board.

She studied it with her sharp green eyes. “All between twelve and fourteen?”

“So far.”

With a sigh, Nadine studied the other faces and notes on the board. She might look glamorous with the streaky blond hair and angled face, both camera-ready, but under the sleek package lived a canny reporter who could dig up tiny pieces of a broken gem and fit them together to make a clean, shiny whole.

“You’ve been keeping a lid on the data pretty well, especially considering Roarke found the bodies.”

“He broke through a wall—ceremoniously mostly—and discovered two of the twelve.”

“I know the outline. The buzz is who are they, how did they get there—are there more—and the Roarke connection winds through it.”

She’d basically ignored the media messages on her ’link, but there hadn’t been all that many in the big scheme. But suddenly it occurred to her Roarke was probably dealing with more. A lot more.

“His connection’s thin at best. The victims were killed about fifteen years ago, long before he bought the building.”

“It’s Roarke,” Nadine said simply. “And it’s you. I got word you’re working with the fashionable and brilliant Dr. DeWinter.”

“She’s handling the remains.”

With a little smile, Nadine sat on the corner of Eve’s desk. “How’s that working out for you?”

The question brought an annoying itch to the base of Eve’s spine. “She’s doing her job. I’m doing mine.”

“When are you going to release the names?”

“When we have all twelve, and when any and all next of kin have been notified. I’m not dribbling them out, Nadine, to keep the media happy.”

“It’s a long time to grieve.” Her gaze tracked to the board again. “I wonder, is it better to know, absolutely, there’s no hope, or to cling to that thin, pale ray of it? You’re looking at Jones, Nashville and Philadelphia? And weren’t they lucky they weren’t born in Helsinki or Toledo?”

“Consider Timbuktu, which I rarely do. I’m looking at everyone, Nadine. You know how it works.”

“Siberia.”

“What?”

Nadine grinned. “I thought we were playing. And yes, I do know how it works. And I know when you’re not giving me anything, you don’t think you can use me.” In a careless move, Nadine shrugged. “Fair enough. My team’s done some research on them, for the stories as they stand now, and to lay the foundation for later. Interesting about the mother’s suicide.”

“Interesting?”

“How the husband took the hard line. Suicide, ultimate sin, no consecrated ground for you. Her children had her cremated, scattered the ashes at sea.”

That was interesting, Eve thought. And proved Nadine was useful even when Eve didn’t have a particular use for her. But she said, “Sounds more fucked-up than interesting.”

“Depends on your angle. And it’s weird and wicked about the younger brother and the lion.”

She nodded toward his photo. “But if I’m judging the time line, he was still alive, still in New York, when the twelve were killed.”

No point in bullshitting, Eve decided. “Being dead doesn’t mean he’s not a suspect.”

“With the king of beasts as executioner. Could be a nice twist. Anyway, we did our own due diligence on brother and sister. The sister in Australia, too. Even the New York sister’s ex, though that was over before the murders, and didn’t net anything interesting as he moved to New Mexico, remarried, and has a tidy little family. But you knew that.”

“We call it doing the job.”

“Me, too,” Nadine said cheerfully. “Big brother’s never hooked up legally, though he does date now and then. They were raised to save sex for marriage, which is why I figure the sister married young. But I have this nagging doubt they’ve stuck to that tenet.” She smiled when she said it. “And one of the brother’s former companions was willing to confirm that.”

She hadn’t bothered to go there, Eve thought, but had to admit it was good data to add to the mix.

“I don’t much care about their sex lives, unless it pertains.”

“Oh, I care about everyone’s. And poking around in that area, I couldn’t find anybody little brother dated.”

Okay, that could be interesting, Eve thought. “He was only twenty-three when he died, and since you poked around, you know he led a sheltered life, had some emotional issues, add in my-mom-killed-herself issues. Could’ve been a late bloomer if he hadn’t gotten snipped off the vine.”

“You’re looking at him.”

“I’m looking at all of them.”

“Dallas.” All friendly amusement, Nadine pointed at her. “I know how it works, remember? And I know how you work. You’re looking at the dead brother particularly.”

The hell with it. “If he was alive, I’d have him in the box sweating him. And I don’t want you running with that angle on-air, Nadine. I’m not ready.”

“We’re just chatting.” She tapped the pink box with a pink-tipped nail. “Aren’t you going to eat your doughnut?”

“I had breakfast, then I had the world’s most amazing hot chocolate. Doughnuts pale.” Which reminded her she still wore her coat.

Nadine nodded at the cap. “I like your hat,” she said as Eve shrugged out of her coat. “The snowflake’s adorable.”

“The what?” Eve snatched the hat off, stared at the sparkling white snowflake on the front. “Shit. There’s a snowflake on this thing. A glittery one.”

“It’s, as stated, adorable. But I digress. DeWinter’s keeping a tight ship over in her world, but you should be aware she enjoys a good, frisky media conference. Once she gets to the point she’s ready, she’ll call one.”

“She’ll call one when I tell her to.” But Eve made a note to make that crystal clear, and to use the commander if necessary.

“Just a heads-up, friend to friend.”

“And you’re being so damn friendly.”

“I am. We are,” Nadine added. “And before I move on to my not-so-secret agenda, I want to say I really, seriously, completely enjoyed Thanksgiving at your place, with the gang, with Roarke’s family.”

She angled to smile at the framed sketch on Eve’s wall.

“That’s great, you know. Not just that the kid thought of it, or what she wrote on the back, but that you’d hang it in here.”

“I told her I would.”

“And that mattered to her. You could see it on her face. Anyway, I know I was a little drunk—just a little—but what I said about being in love with Roarke’s family remains true cold sober. If I wasn’t a to-the-bone urbanite, didn’t have to-the-marrow ambitions, a job I love, and so on, I’d move to Ireland, pick one out of the herd, and marry him. I may hold out for Sean,” she said considering, speaking of Roarke’s young cousin. “I might be ready to retire to Ireland by the time he’s old enough.”

“They have cows,” Eve said darkly. “Practically in the backyard.”

“I could live with that,” Nadine decided. “In about twenty years. Until then, I’m writing my next book.”

“Oh.”

“Such enthusiasm!” Nadine laughed. “
The Icove Agenda
took everything up a level for me. I’m ready to dig into another. My working title is
Ride the Red Horse
.”

“You’re going to write about Callaway, about Menzini.”

“It’s a natural. A cult, a crazed leader harking back to the Urban Wars, a deadly weapon used to cause ordinary people to hallucinate and kill each other within minutes. The legacy passed on, the courageous cop who brought them down.”

“Shit.”

“Really, try to control your joy. I’ll be tapping you, Roarke, the team from time to time while I’m drafting it out, and I’ll be asking you to look over the finished manuscript, to make sure you’re okay with it.”

“They’re going to make another vid, aren’t they?”

“Bet your ass. While I’m working on that, I’d like to give the twelve girls some play—respect,” she said before Eve could speak. “You’ll do what you do to get them justice. I’ll do what I do so people know they existed. To know their names, their faces, and that someone took their lives before they’d really begun. It matters, too.”

It did, Eve knew. And no one did it better than Nadine because it mattered to her. “Get out your recorder.”

Nadine fished into the suitcase she called a purse, pulled it out. “I can have a camera here in ten minutes.”

“No camera, no interview. Just names.” Eve listed them off. “You can’t release them yet, but you can do some basic background—quietly—on them. I’ll give you the others when we have them. I’ll give you the green light when you can go with them. Until then, you’re on red.”

“Understood.”

“Now go away. I’ve got work.”

“So do I.” Nadine scooped up her coat. “Looking forward to your holiday bash.”

“My what?”

“I spoke with Roarke briefly. He said if I mentioned it to tell you to look at your calendar.” Swinging on her coat, Nadine headed out.

She remembered now, with the mention of her calendar. But still. “Didn’t we just have a bash? Isn’t Thanksgiving a bash? Why is Christmas so close to Thanksgiving? Who plans this stuff?”

Since there was no one to answer, she got coffee.

Peabody barreled in. “I talked to Africa!”

“Kudos.”

“Seriously, it was a big moment for me. Sergeant Owusu talked to her uncle, her grandfather, a few others. She was actually writing up a report on it, so you’d have it all laid out. She’ll send it as soon as she’s done, and digs up some pictures.”

“Good.”

“Meanwhile the gist she gave me is everyone agreed Preacher Jones—that’s what they called him—was a lovely man of faith and goodwill. He spoke with respect, enjoyed trying their native dishes—even learned to prepare a couple. He also studied the language, and had humor when he made mistakes in speech. He was kind, and they believe his spirit has remained in Africa.”

“So they liked him. How’d he get eaten?”

“He had a curiosity about everything. And liked to take photos, small recordings, for himself, talked of compiling them one day into some sort of book or documentary. He was out, wandering farther than was wise, to take photos of a watering hole at dawn. The lion came to feed, and he was the main entrée.”

She’d read most of that in the incident report already. “Did they say if he habitually went on these photo shoots alone?”

“I didn’t ask that specifically, but Owusu strikes me as thorough. If she got anything, it’ll be in her report.”

“I don’t remember any interest in photography or animal life in Montclair Jones’s background.”

“Well, he’d never been to Africa before,” Peabody pointed out. “If I went there I’d live with a camera. Basically, it sounded like he’d decided to make the best of it, was enjoying it. It makes sense—he was off the tether for the first time, and somewhere exotic and new.”

Eve glanced at her computer when it signaled an incoming. “We have Iris Kirkwood confirmed as the tenth, and the ID on the reconstruct on the eleventh.”

Eve studied the image—mixed race, she judged. Thin face, wide, wide eyes, sharp cheekbones.

“I recognize that face.” Eve ordered the Missing Persons images, split screen. “There. There she is. Shashona Maddox, age fourteen. Went missing from the grandmother’s residence. Grandmother custodial guardian. Mother took off when the kid was three, father unknown. Grandmother had custody of Shashona’s half sister, same mother, father gave up parental rights, which wouldn’t have been hard for him, most likely, as he was serving twenty to life for murder two at the time.”

“We have another notification.”

She did a quick search. “Yeah. Grandmother’s still alive, still in New York. Half sister’s a doctor, surgical resident at Mount Sinai. Grandmother, Teesha Maddox, lives and has lived for twenty-five years in an apartment on Eighth Avenue. A professional nanny, currently working Upper West Side. When’s Philadelphia due in?”

Peabody glanced at her wrist unit. “We’ve got about an hour.”

“Let’s go see the grandmother. Tell the bullpen if we’re not back, have her wait in the lounge.”

As Peabody hurried out, Eve took the time to send a short, direct e-mail to DeWinter—copied to Whitney.

Appreciate the fast, efficient work. As per my reports, we’re pursuing several investigative lines. Until we have all the victims identified, all the notifications done, and have interviewed all relevant parties, any media release or conference remains on hold. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve.

“Keep a lid on it,” Eve muttered, then like Nadine, scooped up her coat, swinging it on as she walked out.

They found Teesha Maddox with a baby of indeterminate age and sex in a neat and attractive apartment. She took one look at Eve, at Peabody, nodded wordlessly. She pressed her lips to the baby’s forehead, just held them there a moment, then stepped back.

“Please come in. You’ve come to tell me my Shashona’s gone. One of those poor girls they talk about on screen.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m very sorry.”

“I knew when I heard the report. I’ve known all along, but that’s when I knew where she was. I was going to come in to the police station, but Miss Hilly—she’s my lady. Hilly McDonald? She said, now, Teesha, don’t put yourself through that. If they’ve found her, they’ll come to tell you. And here you are.

“I’m going to put the baby down. She’s all dry and fed and burped. I’m going to put her down in her crib awhile, with the monitor on in case she goes fussy. You have a seat here, and I’ll be back in just a minute. I don’t like to talk death with the baby. They take in more than some believe.”

“Nice place,” Peabody said quietly. “It has, I don’t know, a nice, settled, comfortable feel to it. Totally stylish, but homey at the same time.”

Decent view, Eve thought as she sat down, scanned the room.

A lot of photographs—baby, no, two babies, with one of them progressing to the small person a kid was. Maybe three, four? No way for her to know.

Pictures of a woman—Hilly, she supposed—and a guy who was likely the father. Together, with baby, baby, kid. And a shot of Hilly—a white-skinned redhead with Teesha, whose coloring made Eve think of Dennis Mira’s amazing hot chocolate.

“She doesn’t look old enough to be the grandmother of grown women,” Peabody commented.

“She’s sixty-four.”

“Doesn’t look it. And still really young to have grown grandchildren.”

“I was seventeen when I had my girl. Didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” Teesha said as she came back. “I’ve rocked a lot of babies in my time. Rocking babies soothes the soul, and keeps the wrinkles away. I can fix something for you to drink,” she offered. “Cold day like this, maybe you’d like some tea, or coffee. On the police shows they sure drink a lot of coffee.”

“Don’t trouble yourself,” Peabody told her. “We’re fine.”

“Miss Hilly won’t mind, so if you decide you want something, just say. I was seventeen,” she repeated as she sat, neat and tidy as the room. “I was just stupid in love, the kind of stupid you can be at that age when it isn’t love at all. But when you think you are—why, a boy can talk you into most anything. Sixteen years old when I got pregnant, and scared to death. I didn’t even tell my mama until I couldn’t hide it anymore. I told the boy, and he was gone like the wind. My mama stood by me, even when my daddy went a little crazy. But he came around. I learned when you do something foolish sometimes you spend your life dealing with it.”

She sighed, looked toward the window. “I loved my girl. Love my girl still. I’m good with babies, with children. It’s my gift. I did my best for my baby, and my mama helped. I worked, earned money, finished school at home, tended my baby. I raised her to know right from wrong, to be responsible and kind and happy inside her skin.”

She sighed again. “It just didn’t take with Mylia. She seemed to run wild no matter what I did, and she hated that I worked with other children to put a roof over her head, food in her mouth, to give her some fun or something pretty to wear. Anyway, she was barely older than I’d been when she started Shashona. I stood by her. I helped every way I knew. She took off awhile with the boy, but he left her, and she came home to me, had the baby a month later. That didn’t take either. She just didn’t have the gift.”

“So you raised Shashona,” Eve said.

“I did. Mylia, she’d come and go, leave for weeks, then come back. We had some fights over that, I’ll tell the truth. Then another man, another baby. And she’s off and gone again as soon as she could get out. Beautiful babies, Shashona and Leila. I did my best by them, too. I had to go to court after a while, and they made me legal guardian. The people I worked for then, nice people, sweet children, they were both lawyers, and they helped me.”

At the slightest mew, Teesha’s gaze shifted to a little screen on the table where Eve saw the baby sleeping on pink sheets in a white crib.

“She’s just dreaming,” Teesha said with a smile. “The truth is Shashona took after her mama. Had a wild side nothing seemed to tame. Smart girl, clever girl. I prayed on it, prayed she’d grow out of the wild some, make something of herself.”

She took a long breath. “She was smart, ma’am, like I said. I believe in my heart she’d’ve turned that wild into a passion for something, maybe she’d’ve done something important one day.”

Teesha pressed a fist to her heart. “That passion, that important? It was just hidden inside her, waiting for her to grow up a little more.”

In all the pretty young girls, Eve thought. The life yet to come had been hidden inside them.

“What happened the day she went missing?”

“She went off to school just like usual, but she didn’t come home that day, not after school, not after dark.”

“Was that usual?”

“No, ma’am.” Teesha shook her head slowly from side to side while her eyes trained on Eve. “She loved me, even with the wild, she loved me. I know that in my heart, too. She always let me know she wouldn’t be home awhile, whether I said okay to that or not, she’d tell me. Not that day. I couldn’t find her. She had a ’link, but she didn’t answer. The crowd she ran with didn’t know, said they didn’t, even after the police came into it. She was seeing a boy. Thought I didn’t know about him, but I did.

“Pretty girl like Shashona,” Teesha said with a sad little smile. “Well, there’s going to be a boy. He wasn’t a bad boy either. Smart like her. I talked to him myself, and he said how they were going to the vids that weekend, on a date. How they’d gone and had some pizza after school the day she didn’t come home, even though I’d asked her to come straight on home that day. And he’d walked her to the corner, gone his way. And hadn’t seen her again.”

“I have his name from the Missing Persons report,” Eve said.

“He’s a loan officer now, works in a bank. He’s engaged to be married next spring to a fine, well-mannered young lady. We keep in touch. I knew he never hurt her. Do you know who did?”

“We’re investigating,” Eve said.

“Did she know the other girls? Do you know?”

“You might be able to tell us. We’re not releasing their names yet. I have to ask you not to mention them to anyone.”

“I can promise that.”

Eve handed her a list. Peabody offered her photos. Teesha studied them, shaking her head.

“I don’t know these names, or these sweet young faces. There’s only eleven names here.”

“We haven’t officially identified the twelfth.”

“Poor thing. She had a lot of friends, my Shashona. I don’t know if I knew them all, or if she brought them all around, but I don’t know these girls.”

“Do you know if she ever went around The Sanctuary? The building where she was found?”

“Seems she may have. She knew about it. Once when we were arguing about how she wasn’t doing right, she said she could just go live there. She said it to hurt my feelings, or rile me up. I guess it did both. But she wouldn’t have gone there asking to be taken in. If not for me, and under it she loved me, but she wouldn’t have left Leila. Her baby sister. Leila, she worshipped Shashona. Every year, on the day she went missing, I say a prayer for Shashona, and I say one thanking God Leila hadn’t gone with her. I kept her home from school that day, took a sick day off work.”

“Was Leila sick?” Peabody asked.

“She started her cycle. The night before she had her first period. I always let my girls stay home that first day of the first cycle, pampered them a little, so Leila wasn’t with her sister. Now she’s a doctor. She’s going to be a fine surgeon. She’s a beautiful young woman. She’s safe, and she’s happy. And our Shashona, she’s found now. I’ll have to tell Leila.”

For the first time, her eyes sheened with tears. “I’ll have to tell her. I’ll have to tell their mama when she gets in touch again. She does, every now and again.”

“Ms. Maddox, did Shashona go to church?”

She smiled a little at Eve. “Every Sunday, whether she wanted to or not. As long as they lived under my roof, they’d respect the Sabbath. She didn’t mind church too much. Lots of singing. She liked singing. Had a fine, clear voice, too. When can I have her?”

“It’ll be a little while longer,” Eve told her. “We’ll notify you. Did you ever see any of these people around Shashona, around the neighborhood?” At Eve’s signal, Peabody drew more photos out of the file bag.

Teesha studied them in turn. Nashville Jones, Montclair Jones, Philadelphia Jones, Sebastian, Clipperton.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t recall these people. Are they suspects? I do like watching the police shows on the screen.”

“We’re looking into anyone with a possible connection.”

“I don’t know why people do the things they do to each other. We’re all here to live our lives, to do our work, to raise our families, to love who we love. We’re all here for the same things, but some, they can’t let that be. They can’t be happy or content with that. I don’t know what that is.”

She handed the photos back to Peabody. “Do you?”

At a loss, Eve shifted. “No.”

“If you don’t, I don’t suppose anybody really does.”

•   •   •

S
he must be really good at her job,” Peabody commented. “The way she has. It’s soothing. She was brokenhearted, even though she’d resigned herself her granddaughter was gone a long time ago, it hurt her to hear it. But she still had that soothing way.”

“The kid probably would’ve turned out all right. Like Linh. She just never got the chance to grow out of the snotty phase. Another church connection.”

“Kind of loose, but yeah.”

“And the singing. If Sebastian comes through with DeLonna, maybe we’ll connect that.”

“A lot of connection, but no strong links.”

Eve glanced at her communicator when it signaled. “Philadelphia’s in the house. Let’s go see if we can make a link.”

•   •   •

S
he sent Peabody along to transfer Philadelphia to the Interview room. More official setting, Eve mused, a little more pressure. Later, they’d repeat the routine with Jones.

She took her time, gathered props and tools, then started over to where Peabody stood outside the door.

“I got her a lemon fizzy,” Peabody began. “She’s a little nervous, and a little unhappy with the wait, but wants to help however she can. And so on.”

“Nervous and unhappy works just fine.” Eve walked in. “Record on. We need to record the interview, Ms. Jones, for the record.”

“Of course, but—”

“Just one minute. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, and Peabody, Detective Delia, entering Interview with Philadelphia Jones, in the matter of case file H-5657823. We appreciate you coming in,” Eve said as she sat. “We’re just going to read you your rights, for the record.”

“I don’t understand. My rights?” Philadelphia wore her hair swept up today, and smoothed a hand over it in a nervous gesture. “Am I a suspect?”

“It’s procedure,” Eve said briskly, and rattled off the Revised Miranda. “You understand your rights and obligations?”

“Yes, of course. I’m here to help however I can.”

“We appreciate that. We’ve identified all but one of the victims whose remains were found in the building you owned at the established time of their deaths.”

Eve laid out eleven photos. “Do you recognize any of these girls?”

“Shelby, of course, as we discussed before. And Mikki. Lupa, who was only with us briefly. I . . . This girl looks familiar, but I’m not sure.” Her finger hovered over Merry Wolcovich’s photo. “If you gave me her name, we could check our records.”

“I have. She wasn’t in residence at either of your establishments, officially.”

“If she’d been one of ours, she’d be in our records.” Shoulders stiff, she sat back. “We don’t take our responsibilities lightly.”

“But she looks familiar?”

“I . . . I just have this little flash of seeing her with Shelby, Shelby and Mikki—maybe DeLonna.”

She lifted the photo, frowning at it until a vertical line formed between her eyebrows. “She . . . I’m not sure. It was years ago, but something seems familiar.”

“Only this one?” Eve said.

“Yes, and I’m not sure of that. I—in the market!” She sat up very straight. “I went into the market, and they were all in there—with this girl. Dae Pak’s market—oh, he was
such
an impatient man. He complained to me, more than a few times about the children coming in, stealing or acting up. I remember because I happened to go in, and, frankly, they were being rude. I ordered the girls—our girls—to apologize and come straight back with me. I remember because I asked the other girl her name, where she lived. She told me to mind my own business, only not that politely, and ran out. I remember,” she repeated, “because I kept an eye out for her after that for a couple weeks, in case she came back. I had the feeling she might be a runaway. You start to get a sense when you work with them routinely.”