Echoes in Death(47)
His eyes, a few shades lighter than his suit, met Eve’s, then shifted to Zella. “Thanks. I’ve got it. Send Rosa straight back if she comes in.”
“Of course.”
She eased back, shut the door.
“I spoke with Detective Olsen,” he began. “She said there’d been another, but this time…” He gestured vaguely. “I’m sorry, please sit down. I can offer you coffee or tea, or my own personal vice? Pepsi.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry to put you in the position of revisiting a difficult experience, Mr. Patrick.”
“Revisiting?” He shoved at his hair, sat on a chair that looked more comfortable than stylish. “We live with it every day. Every night. My wife … We sold the house we loved and are living in a fully secured condo neither one of us want. And still she can’t be alone for more than a few hours during the day, has nightmares constantly. She was just starting to do better. We were starting to do better. And now this.
“Why can’t you find him?” Neville demanded. “Until he’s locked away, it’ll never be over.”
And not even then, Eve thought. “I wish I had a simple answer, and could promise you we’ll find him quickly. What I can tell you is Detectives Olsen and Tredway have never stopped working the investigation. Detective Peabody and I won’t stop, either.”
“He’s a monster. It wasn’t just a costume.”
“I know it.”
“How do you catch a monster?”
“By understanding him.”
Frowning, Neville leaned forward. “Yes. Yes. Understanding him. How do you do that?”
“We’re working on doing that right now. It’s why we’re here. He targeted you and your wife, specifically.”
“Why do you say that? Nikki and Stan never said that.”
“I believe you were specific, as were Ira and Lori Brinkman, as were Anthony and Daphne Strazza.
“You represent something to him. Someone.”
“Rosa’s never hurt anyone in her life. You can’t—”
“You did nothing. She did nothing.” Because it mattered, Eve let her words simply hang for a moment before continuing. “It may be that the ones you represent to this individual did nothing.”
Though he nodded, Neville rubbed his hands over his face like a man scrubbing away a film. “I did everything he told me to do, gave him whatever he asked for. And still he raped her, and he choked her, and he hit her.”
“Because that’s what he wanted. That was his purpose. The rest was incidental.”
“What do you mean?”
“He violated your wife in front of you. That’s what he wanted. You know him, Mr. Patrick.”
Those words had him flinching back as if from a sharp slap.
“You’ve done business with him,” Eve continued, “he’s worked for or with you, or with your wife. When we do find him, you may not recognize him immediately. But you will recognize him.”
“Someone I know?” He had to choke the words out. “Why do you say that? How can that be?”
“He waited until you were back from your honeymoon, rather than breaking in when you were gone. Rather than taking what he wanted. And he waited until you were out for the evening, so he could ambush you both. He knew about the safes, he knew enough to deactivate your security, your house droid.”
“You’re saying he’s been in our home. That he’s spent time in our home?”
“Yes, I am. Considering that, I’d like you to think back. Did you have any arguments or disagreements, personally or professionally, with anyone?”
“Of course. We’re in a creative and passionate business. We thrive on disagreements. It’s how we refine any project. Kyle and I—my partner—give our people a great deal of autonomy, but at the end of the day, the decision to make or break comes from us. We started this company together. It’s very personal to us.”
“Did any of those disagreements lead to the termination of an individual or project that left hard feelings?”
“Shelving a project always leaves hard feelings. But it’s a business, Lieutenant. Anyone inside it knows how it works, has to work. And that they can always make a case to have the project revived.”
“An actor,” Eve pressed, “who wasn’t given a part, or fired?”
“God, every project would have actors passed over for a part during the casting process. It’s the nature of the beast. I honestly can’t think of anyone who’d react to that with this sort of violence.”
“In your statement you said he used a fake British accent. Upper-class Brit.”