Page 106 of Concealed in Death

“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.”