J. Robb - Survivor in Death

Acknowledged.

“Probability, given known data, that the killers were known by one or more of the victims.”

Working… Probability is 88.32 percent that one or more of the victims knew one or more of the killers.

“Probability that the killers were professional assassins.”

Working… Probability is 96.93 percent that the killers were professional and/or trained.

“Yeah, I'm with you there. Probability that killers were hired or assigned to assassinate victims by another source.”

Working… Wholly speculative inquiry with insufficient data to project.

“Let's try this. Given current known data on all victims, what is the probability any or all would be marked for professional assassination?”

Working… 100 percent probability as victims have been assassinated.

“Work with me here, you moron. Speculation. Victims have not yet been assassinated. Given current known data-deleting any data after midnight-what is the probability any or all members of the Swisher household would be marked for professional assassination?”

Working… Probability is less than five percent, and therefore these subjects would not be so marked.

“Yeah, my take, too. So what don't we know about this nice family?” She swiveled around to the board. “Because you're dead, aren't you?” She shoved another disc in the data slot. “Computer, do a sort and run on subsequent data pertaining to Swisher, Grant, client list. Follow with sort and run on Swisher, Keelie, client list. Highlight any and all subjects with criminal or psych evals, highlight all with military or paramilitary training. Copy results to my home unit when complete.”

Acknowledged. Working…

“Yeah, you keep doing that.” She rose, walked out.

“ Peabody.” She gave a come-ahead that hadPeabody pushing back from her desk in the bull pen.

“I've got a complaint. How come Baxter and most of the other guys always get the good bribes? How come being your partner means I get shafted on the goodies?”

“Price you pay. We're heading to Whitney. Do you have anything new I should know about before we report?”

“I talked with McNab. Purely professional,” Peabody added quickly. “We hardly made any kissy noises. Feeney put him on the household 'links and d and c's, and Grant Swisher's units from his office. He's running all transmissions from the last thirty days. So far, nothing pops. Did you see the sweepers' report?”

“Yeah. Nothing. Not a skin cell, not a follicle.”

“I'm doing runs on the school staff,” Peabody continued as they squeezed onto an elevator. “Pulling out anything winky.”

“Winky?”

“You know, not quite quite. Both schools are pretty tight. You gotta practically be pure enough for sainthood to work there, but a few little slips got in. Nothing major at this point.”

“Pull out military, paramilitary backgrounds. Even those-what are they?-combat camps. Those recreational places where you pay to run around playing war. Take a hard look at teachers in the e-departments.”

Eve rubbed her temple as they stepped off the elevator. “The housekeeper was divorced. Let's eyeball the ex. We'll get the names of the kids' pals. See if any of those family members should be checked out.”

“He's waiting for you.” Whitney's admin gestured even as Eve strode toward her desk. “DetectivePeabody, it's good to have you back. How are you feeling?”

“Good, thanks.”

But she drew in a deep breath before they entered Whitney's office. The commander still intimidated her.

He sat, a big man at a big desk, his face the color of cocoa, his short cropped black hair liberally dusted with gray. Peabody knew he'd done his time on the streets, nearly as much time as she'd been alive. And he rode his desk with the same fervor and skill.

“Lieutenant. Detective, it's good to see you back on the job.”

“Thank you, sir. It's good to be back.”

“I have your writtens. Lieutenant, you're walking a thin line taking a minor witness into your own custody.”

“Safest place I know, Commander. And the minor was emotionally distressed. More so at the prospect of going with GPS. As she's our only witness, I felt it best to keep her close, to have her monitored, and to attempt to keep her emotionally stable in order to gain more information from her. I've assigned Detective Baxter and Officer Trueheart to witness protection, off the log.”

“Baxter and Trueheart.”

“Baxter's experience, Trueheart's youth. Trueheart has a kind of Officer Friendly way about him, and Baxter won't miss the details.”

“Agreed. Why off the log?”

“At this time the media is unaware there was a survivor. It won't take much longer, but it gives us more of a window. Once they know, the killers know. These men are trained and skilled. It's highly possible this was an operation executed under orders.”

“Do you have evidence of that?”

“No, sir. None to the contrary either. There is, at this time, no clear motive.”

It was going to be the why, Eve thought, that led to the who.

“Nothing that pops in any of the victims' data or background,” she added. “We're beginning further runs, and I will continue to interview the witness. Mira has agreed to supervise, and to counsel.”

“Nothing in your report indicates this as a spree killing or home terrorism.”

“No, sir. We're running like crimes through IRCCA, but haven't hit anything with these details.”

“I want your witness under supervision twenty-four/seven.”

“It's done, sir.”

“Mira's name will have considerable weight with GPS. I'll add mine.” The chair creaked when he leaned back. “What about legal guardians?” Sir?

“The minor. Who are her legal guardians?”

“The Dysons, Commander,” Peabody said when Eve hesitated. “The parents of the minor female who was killed.”

“Jesus. Well, they're unlikely to give us any trouble over the situation, but you'd do better to get their permission, officially. Doesn't the child have any family left?”

“Grandparent. One on the father's side who lives off planet. Maternal grandparents are dead. No siblings on either side.”

“Kid can't catch a break, can she?” Whitney muttered.

She caught one, Eve thought. She lived. “DetectivePeabody? You spoke with the grandmother.”

“Yes, Lieutenant. I notified next of kin. At that time, I was told the paternal grandmother was not legal guardian in case of parental death or disability. And, to be frank, while shocked and upset, she made no statement to indicate she intended to come here and attempt custody of the minor.”

“All right then. Dallas, speak with the Dysons at the first opportunity, and tidy this up. Keep me updated.”

“Yes, sir.”

When they were walking back toward the elevator, Peabody shook her head. “I don't think now's the best time-for the Dysons. I'd let that slide another twenty-four anyway.”

The longer the better, Eve thought.

SECURITY AND STREETLIGHTS WERE POPPING ON by the time Eve headed back uptown from Central. Normally, the vicious traffic would have given her plenty of reason to snarl and bitch, but tonight she was grateful for the distraction, and the extra drive time.

It was gelling for her.

She could see the method, the type of killers. She could walk through the scene over and over in her mind and follow the steps. But she couldn't find motive.

She sat in stalled traffic behind a flatulent maxibus and circled around the case again. Violence without passion. Murder without rage.

Where was the kick? The profit? The reason?

Going with instinct, she called up Roarke's personal 'link on her dash unit.

“Lieutenant.”