Page 19 of Concealed in Death

“And?” Eve prompted.

“Well, I’m sorry to say she’d sold herself more than once for food, for a place to stay. Her name was Leah, and we did our best by her while we could. Oh, oh, and he came back, yes, he did, a month or so later, as Leah had taken off again. He wanted to tear through the place looking for her, even though she wasn’t there and we told him so. We called for the police that time, and they took him away. And now that you mention it, that was right about the time we were packing up to make the move.”

“That’s really helpful, Matron Shivitz.” Peabody boosted encouragement into her tone. “Is there anyone else?”

“Those are the ones that come to mind, but I promise I’ll think more about it. Just to think I might have known who did this terrible thing, it’s going to keep me up at night. But the fact is, Miss, we’re—that is, Ms. Jones and Mr. Jones—are so careful about who works here, who comes into the home, has any interaction with the children, I just don’t know how this could be.”

“The children aren’t always in the house, are they?” Eve put in. “They go out. You don’t confine them twenty-four/seven.”

“Of course not! It’s important they have some sort of normal routine, a healthy balance, and learn to cope well with the outside world. It’s vital to build up trust. And they have assignments, of course, that take them out. Marketing, field trips, free time. Oh! I see! Someone from the outside. It had to be someone from the outside who did this. Lured the girls back to the other building. From the outside,” she repeated on a long breath of relief. “Not one of our own.”

Maybe, Eve thought. And maybe not.

“We appreciate your help. If you think of anything or anyone else, contact us.”

“I can promise you I will. You don’t know their names.” She rose. “Mr. Jones said they were only bones. Will you tell us when you know who they are? I try to build relationships with all the children. I try to know who they are, who they hope to be. I’ve always tried. When I know who they are, I can pray for them better.”

“We’ll let you know when we can. Is Seraphim Brigham in-house today?”

“Not this afternoon. She only had morning sessions and duties today. She doesn’t know yet.” Shivitz pressed a hand to her heart again. “This will be very hard for her. She was one of them, you see. One of the girls.”

“I don’t mean to interrupt.” Philadelphia hesitated in the doorway. “I have what you asked for.” She held out discs. “They’re all labeled. It’s everything we could think of.”

“Thanks.” Eve took them. “Would you know where we could find Seraphim?”

“I know she usually has lunch with her grandmother on her free afternoon. Sometimes they visit a museum, or go shopping. She’s seeing someone, fairly seriously, so she may also have a date.”

“You don’t approve?”

“Oh, no, it’s not that.” Philadelphia flushed a little. “I didn’t mean to sound critical. He’s a very nice young man. An artist. He’s offered to do sketches of the children, and that’s very kind of him.”

“But?”

“He’s a Free-Ager.”

Behind Eve, Free-Ager Peabody cleared her throat.

“It’s only that we try very hard to instill clear boundaries about sex, and, of course, while we’re open to all faiths, we do try to impress a more, well, traditional Judeo-Christian structure. Free-Agers are more...”

“Free?” Peabody suggested.

“Yes. Exactly. But as I said, he’s a very nice man, and we want only the best for Seraphim. Lieutenant, I feel I should tell the rest of the staff, the children. Have some sort of gathering of respect. I know the children, with their attachment to their e-toys, will hear of this. I want to protect them, but I want to be open with them.”

“That’s up to you. We’ll be in touch when we have more information to give you. Please contact us if you think of anything that might relate.”

“I don’t think any of us will be thinking about anything else. I hope what we’ve been able to give you helps.”

She led Eve and Peabody toward the door. Feeling a little tingle, Eve glanced back, up the steps, and saw the girl—Quilla, she remembered—sitting on them, staring holes through her.

Once outside, she walked to the car, then just leaned on it. Waited.

“Do you want me to track down this Seraphim who has the bad taste to date a Free-Ager?”

“Untwist your panties, Peabody. A lot of people consider Free-Agers a little out in the weird.”

“Because we believe in personal choice, in acceptance, in respecting the planet and everything, everyone on it?”

“There’s that,” Eve said easily, enjoying the moment. “And the weaving your own cloth, living in communes—or mostly—growing sheep and carrots and paying homage to the Goddess Moonglow for the harvest.”