Page 106 of Obsession in Death

“Good enough. Thanks.” She paused at the door. “Would you consider going to the ball drop tomorrow night?”

“Sure, if I lose my mind between now and then.”

She absolutely beamed at him. “Exactly.”

•••

In the media room, she glanced over the statement Kyung had drafted, then stepped out in front of the cams and mics.

The questions blew out immediately. To deal with them she simply stood, silent until the noise level dropped.

Stony silence often worked on suspects, uncooperative wits in the box. It could take longer on reporters but generally did the trick.

“I’m not taking questions so don’t waste my time. The investigation into the murder of Leanore Bastwick and the murder of Wendall Ledo is active and ongoing.”

“Are there any new leads?”

“Do you have a suspect?”

“We believe the attack on Dirk Hastings last night was perpetrated by the same individual responsible for the deaths of Bastwick and Ledo. Mr. Hastings was injured, but has made a full recovery. The newest sketch of the suspect has already been distributed to all of you, so there’s no point in asking questions I’m not going to answer anyway on that element. The suspect fled when interrupted by a guest in Mr. Hastings’s residence. No, I will not reveal the identity of the witness.”

With thinning patience, she waited out the next barrage of questions. “We are evaluating all evidence, pursuing all leads, and will continue to do so until the suspect is identified and apprehended. I’ll add the suspect has my full attention.”

She chose a camera at random, looked straight into it as she spoke. “The suspect murdered two unarmed people, stunning them first. Mr. Hastings was also unarmed and stunned. The difference in this last incident is the presence of a witness and the suspect fleeing the scene rather than confronting someone who was not stunned unconscious. Draw your own conclusions.”

She turned her back dismissively, walked away while the questions rained after her.

“You intended to call the suspect a coward in front of the cameras,” Kyung commented.

“Draw your own conclusions,” she repeated. “Peabody, McNab, let’s go.”

She needed to see a friend before she went back to chasing a killer.

“Door-to-door service rocking it.” McNab climbed into the All-Terrain behind Peabody—and gave her butt a quick squeeze. “Buy you a cup of coffee, Dallas?”

She started to refuse, on principle, then thought better of it. She could use some wire in the blood. “Yeah, thanks.”

Eve pulled out while he worked the AutoChef.

“So hey, Peabody said how you did a holo walk-through, and it sparked me. I got together with Yancy, and we played around with holo-construct on the UNSUB. Using his sketches, the security discs, estimating height and all that happy.”

He programmed her coffee in a go-cup, passed it forward.

“Did the highest probable on build—and we split out there, but we both lean toward most of the bulk being the coat, whatever she’s wearing under it. Giving the ratios of arm and leg length, hands, feet, breadth of shoulders and hips, factoring the outerwear and all that, we figure she’s between five-eight and five-ten, running about a buck fifty. Gotta have some muscle in there, right? Your reconstruct says the first vic wasn’t dragged but carried. First vic weighed one-eighteen.”

He handed Peabody a coffee, regular. “Hair and eyes are crapshoots—can’t see the hair. Hastings says brown, but you can change eye color. But we batted it around and we like short hair on her. Sure, she could pile it up under the cap, but it’s easier and smarter, even if she has a bonnet under it, to go with short. Less chance of a stray one, right?”

Eve flicked a glance in the rearview as he programmed a fizzy for himself. “You’ve been thinking, McNab.”

“Put the gray cells on it, LT.” He grinned at her. “We came up with a series of five images—some variations in them, and I wouldn’t bet my ass any of them bull’s-eyes it, but I’d gamble my next paycheck we got close.”

He slurped down some fizzy. “Finished up right before Peabody tagged me, so I sent the file to your comps. You can take a look when you get home.”

“Why wait?” Traffic was nasty and slow. “Can I call it up here, the in-dash?”

“Absotively.” Knowing her, he flipped off his safety belt, levered up and over the front seat. “Give me a sec.”

He smelled like cherry fizzy, she thought, looked like a guy running off to perform in an off-Broadway review. At the North Pole. But when it came to e-work he... well, he rocked it out.