Page 133 of Concealed in Death

“I got it.” Peabody handed over the ’link, sealed in an evidence bag.

“I took a look, and there’s nothing overt,” Eve began. “But it looked to me like a couple of contacts had been recently deleted. And your new girlfriend tells me he bought a new disposable in the last couple days.”

“She’s my little playmate. I’ve only got one girlfriend.” He reached over, wiggled his fingers against Peabody’s. “I’ll check out the ’link. No PPC on site?”

“Not found. He must have taken it and the memo book with him. I scanned through the minis, didn’t see anything, but take them with you, too.”

“Will do.” McNab dug some gum out of one of the many and copious pockets of his purple baggies, offered it. With no takers he popped one of the little green squares into his mouth. “So the sister’s is the same, but she’s got budgetary stuff on there, revenue, expenses, a list of benefactors. Admin stuff. Some of that’s on here, too. And files for each kid, circumstances and date of admission and/or release. Progress reports, infractions, problem areas, positive areas, like that. It’s all coming off pretty clean and pretty blah.”

“He’s got personal stuff somewhere, and he was in a hurry to get gone. We’ll find something.”

•••

Two hours later, Eve admitted defeat.

“Either he’s a lot more devious than he comes off and McNab will find something back in the lab, or everything here’s clean, aboveboard and as boring as ginger-flavored rice cakes.”

“They’re not so bad,” Peabody commented. “Especially if you drizzle just a little chocolate-flavored syrup on them, which negates the purpose, but still. Rice cakes. I think I’m punchy.”

“We’re lucky our brains aren’t leaking out of our ears when we spend half a day combing through this place and the most interesting thing we found was a single smashed joint of zoner inside an air vent that looked like it had been there for months. Maybe years.”

She stayed out of the way while McNab and the uniforms hauled out what few electronics seemed worth a second pass.

Shivitz literally wrung her hands. “Our records.”

“You were instructed to make copies of anything needed for daily operation.”

“What if I forgot something?”

“You never do,” Philadelphia assured her.

She’d gone pale again as the effects of the soother wore off. The strain tightened around her eyes, her mouth, but she had her voice under control.

Still, she bit her lip when Uniform Carmichael carried out boxes of archived discs, labeled by year.

“We keep careful records, Lieutenant. We have inspections. We have—”

“I don’t expect to find any problem with your operation. Some of this is just procedure.”

Eve turned so she faced Philadelphia, looked straight into her eyes.

“I have to impress on you again, if your brother contacts you, you need to persuade him to come in. You don’t want him hauled in to Central in cuffs.”

“No.” She groped for Shivitz’s hand. “Please.”

“Then convince him to turn himself in. Failing that, find out where he is. Either way, you need to contact me immediately.”

“I will. I gave you my word. No one I spoke with has seen or heard from him.”

“You’ve got a sister in Australia.”

“I contacted Selma. He hasn’t contacted her, and now she’s trying everything to find him. I hated to pull her in, and now she’s as worried as I am. I even spoke with our father, though Nash wouldn’t go to him.”

“No?”

“Father would insist he come back right away. He’d never allow Nash the quiet, contemplative time I believe, absolutely believe, he’s taking if he understood we had a problem. I’m sure he’s just taking time to think, and he’ll be in touch with me soon. He wouldn’t want me to worry.”

She looked around, over, back, as if she expected to see him coming down the steps, striding down a hallway any moment.