Echoes in Death(48)

“Yes, he dropped it a couple of times when he…” Neville looked away. “He dropped it once or twice. I believe he’s American, or Canadian.”

“Could he have switched it up to make you think that?” Peabody asked him.

Struck, Neville frowned at her. “I hadn’t considered that. But no. I’m nearly certain the English accent was fake.”

“What about someone who had feelings for your wife?” Eve suggested. “A former relationship, or someone who wanted a relationship with her.”

“Rosa and I have been together more than three years. Her former relationship is now happily cohabbing in Florence, and has been for more than a year. Lieutenant, Rosa is beautiful, inside and out. If you didn’t know her, you’d be struck by her looks. I’m fully aware men look at her, and look at me with some envy. I can tell you, without hesitation, I don’t know anyone who’d hurt her the way she was hurt.”

Eve changed tack. “Your company has used Jacko’s Catering and Loan Star Rentals.”

“Yes, Loan Star. They’re our go-to for renting a one-off. I don’t know the caterer offhand. I’d need to check with Zella. Why?”

“We’re exploring all avenues, any possible connections. Have you held any events at your home where you would have used a caterer or rentals?”

“No. We’d only moved in—in April, and were married in June. We had friends over from time to time, but small gatherings, informal. We’d planned to hold our first party as a married couple during the holidays, but…”

He looked over as the door opened, and Eve saw his face register love, grief, hope. He said, “Rosa.”





9

She looked like a woman in mourning, Eve thought. Beautiful, tragic, resigned. She’d pulled her hair back so what were likely wild and wonderful ebony curls were restrained by a clip at the nape of her neck.

She wore black—a simple sweater and pants, with the pants tucked into knee-boots. Her eyes, a molten brown, showed signs of recent tears however clever the enhancements.

Neville hurried to her, gathered her in with an almost painful tenderness. Eve saw Rosa nod as he whispered to her.

“I’m all right. I wanted to come.”

Before she drew away, someone called her name, came to the door.

“Rosa! Hey.” Then he stopped, zeroed in on Eve. “Cops?”

As he spoke, the man touched a hand briefly to Rosa’s shoulder, then flanked her. “Why are the Icove cops here?” he demanded, shaking his head at Neville’s blank look. “Dallas and Peabody, Nev. The Icove cops.”

“Yes, yes, of course. I was distracted, didn’t put it together. My partner, Kyle Knightly. There’s been another, Kyle.”

“Another … goddamn it. Sorry, sorry, Rosie.” Kyle shoved at his dark blond hair, then shoved his hands in his pockets. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Not right now. We’ll talk later, all right?”

“Sure. I’ll be in my corner. I’m always in yours.”

With a last resentful look for Eve, he stepped out, shut the door.

“Let’s sit down, Rosa. I’ll get you some tea.”

“Tea would be good. I’d like some tea.” Rosa sat, rubbed her wedding ring. “I don’t want to say it all again. I don’t want to say again what he did.”

“Okay. I’d like to ask you if, looking back now, there was anyone who made you feel uncomfortable. Anyone who said or did anything, however minor, you felt inappropriate?”

“No. I answered that before. It wasn’t someone I knew.” She said it quickly, almost desperately. “It was a stranger.”

“Mrs. Patrick, there are similarities in all three attacks. Not only what was done, but who it was done to. We believe there’s a reason for that.”

“The second couple, they—they were older than we are, and married longer. And they didn’t live in our neighborhood or…”

“Mrs. Patrick.” Peabody interrupted gently. “We see a pattern, and that’s a good thing. That’s something we can use to identify him, to stop him, to put him away where he can’t hurt anyone else. If we can help you see the pattern we do, you might think of something that gives us another piece.”

“I didn’t know him. His face was white, like the dead, and his eyes were black, and the light in the room was dim and gray.”

She took the tea Neville brought her, but the cup rattled in the saucer, and she set it down.

“We’re not going to ask you about the specifics of the attack,” Eve told her. “The pattern, as my partner pointed out, is important. It’s what we want you to think about. It may be someone you met in passing, or your husband met, someone who did some work for you, or was involved with one of your projects, your charities. As far as we can ascertain, you were the first couple attacked. We need to figure out why. Why you were first, how you were targeted.”