signals, how I was already a valued member of the team. He laid it on, and I accepted it. I loved the work there, so I accepted it. And the coffee he offered me when he started to talk about work. I have a vague memory of walking out with him. I think most everyone was gone by then. I remember feeling off, like I’d been drinking, but good drinking, you know? Loose. Then I was in the back of a car with him, and his hands were on me, but I didn’t mind. He gave me a drink, and then … nothing. I just don’t remember after that. Some flashes—like dream blips—but nothing clear.”
“All right.” Eve got to her feet. “We appreciate your time and cooperation.”
“That’s it?”
“For now it is. We’ll verify what you’ve told us. As long as it jibes, as long as you didn’t kill him, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
Her lips twisted into a mockery of a smile. “Well, there’s good news.”
Eve paused, waited until Leah’s eyes met hers. “I’m a cop, and I’m telling you this. What he did to you was rape. He drugged you, rapedyou, then blackmailed you. He’s to blame, every level, every step. You’re not. And you stood up when you realized he’d done the same to someone else.”
“I…” She had to stop, had to swallow. “Thanks. I mean it. Now, you’re going to go around all this with Jasmine, even though she’s in Chicago. Take it easy with her, will you? She’s always going to be a little tender because a part of her is always going to at least half believe she caused it. And to add insult, he passed her over for a promotion right after. Just another little sting, right?”
“We’ll keep that in mind.” Eve walked to the door, stopped. “Are you still in the support group?”
“Me? Not really. Once Frankie and I got serious—once I realized I actually could have good feelings for a man—I sort of let it slide. Jasmine’s got one in Chicago. I think she’s a lifer.”
“Does it have a name? The group?”
“Women For Women. I thought it would be as stupid as it sounds, but it actually helped. I might just hit the next meeting.” She smiled a little. “Just a quick booster maybe.”
They left her staring into space and squeezing the red ball.
“She struck me as telling it straight,” Peabody said as they rode down.
“Yeah, but we verify. I’m going to dump you at Central on my way to the morgue.”
“I love when that happens.”
“You verify Lester’s statement with the boyfriend. You contact Jasmine Quirk, run her through it, verify her statement. Set up a meet with the vic’s spouse, get any updates from EDD on the electronics. Write up the report, copy to me, Whitney, Mira. Get what we need for a search and seize on all the vic’s residences and offices.”
“Worldwide.”
“That’s affirmative. See what you can find on this support group.”
“The support group?”
“Remember Mr. Mira’s cousin? A conspiracy of female vics turned revenge killers. It’s not impossible we have something similar here, so let’s take a look at the group. Contact the vic’s transpo service, a driver, from Po’s files. No way he risked a cab getting Lester from the office to his residence, so if he headed out to a club last night to hunt, he probably didn’t take public transpo.”
“I’m starting to think the morgue and a dead, mutilated body’s easier.”
“Make lieutenant, then you can call the shots.” Eve whipped to the corner. “Out.”
“At least this way I can grab a street dog before I go in.” Peabody climbed out, beelined for the cart as Eve bullied her way back into traffic.
She ran through questions in her head along the drive.
Could one person, working alone, have lured McEnroy, incapacitated him, transported him to an as yet unknown location, tortured, mutilated, and killed him, then transported the body back to the dump site?
Not impossible, but it seemed more likely a partnership of some sort.
Alternately, had McEnroy left his
“All right.” Eve got to her feet. “We appreciate your time and cooperation.”
“That’s it?”
“For now it is. We’ll verify what you’ve told us. As long as it jibes, as long as you didn’t kill him, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
Her lips twisted into a mockery of a smile. “Well, there’s good news.”
Eve paused, waited until Leah’s eyes met hers. “I’m a cop, and I’m telling you this. What he did to you was rape. He drugged you, rapedyou, then blackmailed you. He’s to blame, every level, every step. You’re not. And you stood up when you realized he’d done the same to someone else.”
“I…” She had to stop, had to swallow. “Thanks. I mean it. Now, you’re going to go around all this with Jasmine, even though she’s in Chicago. Take it easy with her, will you? She’s always going to be a little tender because a part of her is always going to at least half believe she caused it. And to add insult, he passed her over for a promotion right after. Just another little sting, right?”
“We’ll keep that in mind.” Eve walked to the door, stopped. “Are you still in the support group?”
“Me? Not really. Once Frankie and I got serious—once I realized I actually could have good feelings for a man—I sort of let it slide. Jasmine’s got one in Chicago. I think she’s a lifer.”
“Does it have a name? The group?”
“Women For Women. I thought it would be as stupid as it sounds, but it actually helped. I might just hit the next meeting.” She smiled a little. “Just a quick booster maybe.”
They left her staring into space and squeezing the red ball.
“She struck me as telling it straight,” Peabody said as they rode down.
“Yeah, but we verify. I’m going to dump you at Central on my way to the morgue.”
“I love when that happens.”
“You verify Lester’s statement with the boyfriend. You contact Jasmine Quirk, run her through it, verify her statement. Set up a meet with the vic’s spouse, get any updates from EDD on the electronics. Write up the report, copy to me, Whitney, Mira. Get what we need for a search and seize on all the vic’s residences and offices.”
“Worldwide.”
“That’s affirmative. See what you can find on this support group.”
“The support group?”
“Remember Mr. Mira’s cousin? A conspiracy of female vics turned revenge killers. It’s not impossible we have something similar here, so let’s take a look at the group. Contact the vic’s transpo service, a driver, from Po’s files. No way he risked a cab getting Lester from the office to his residence, so if he headed out to a club last night to hunt, he probably didn’t take public transpo.”
“I’m starting to think the morgue and a dead, mutilated body’s easier.”
“Make lieutenant, then you can call the shots.” Eve whipped to the corner. “Out.”
“At least this way I can grab a street dog before I go in.” Peabody climbed out, beelined for the cart as Eve bullied her way back into traffic.
She ran through questions in her head along the drive.
Could one person, working alone, have lured McEnroy, incapacitated him, transported him to an as yet unknown location, tortured, mutilated, and killed him, then transported the body back to the dump site?
Not impossible, but it seemed more likely a partnership of some sort.
Alternately, had McEnroy left his
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