J. Robb - Survivor in Death

“Yeah.” She smiled, dreamily. “He does, doesn't he?”

“So why-I ask unwillingly and with some regret-are you so obsessed with the size and shape of that particular part of your anatomy?”

“I've got the body type and metabolism that means I have to watch it or you'll be able to serve a five-course meal off the shelf of that particular part of my anatomy. It's a matter of pride. Not all of us are preordained to go through life skinny as a snake.”

“Now that we've cleared that up, I want coffee.”

She'd planned to wait a couple of beats, then givePeabody the Look of Destruction. But her partner moved directly to the AutoChef and programmed. “I guess what happened last night with Knight andPreston got me and McNab both thinking, and just appreciating what we've got. Knowing what can happen sort of makes the moment more intense. He doesn't usually walk me to Division.”

She handed coffee to Eve, took one for herself. “We just wanted a few minutes more.”

“Understood.” And because it was, Eve gestured to the chair before she leaned back against her desk. “I left you a message, as well as leaving one for the rest of the team. Conference Room C, ten hundred. We'll brief, and hope Yancy's got a better picture of our suspects. Meanwhile, I have some names to be run. Potentials. Morris worked on Knight andPreston last night. Nothing new or unexpected there. Stun took them down, knife took them out. Tox was clear. I'm waiting for the lab to confirm thatPreston 's weapon was fired before he went down.”

“Hope he got off a good stream.”

“Ophelia said one of them was limping. I'd sayPreston got some of his own in before the end. EDD doesn't give us anything new, but it establishes pattern. Let's see if we can find it again with any of the names on the list of people the Swishers knew who are now missing or dead.”

“I'll get started.”

“Your portion of the list is attached to the voice mail I sent you. You get any sort of a ring, I need to know.”

“I'm there.” She started out, paused. “The waffles. Come on, Dallas, smothered in whipped cream or swimming in syrup?”

“Syrup, drowning.”

“Mmmmm.”

Peabodygave a little sigh and walked out. To satisfy her curiosity, Eve peered through the door and watched her go. She didn't think overmuch about female asses, butPeabody 's looked fine to her.

She sat, called up her own list.

Brenegan, Jaynene, age 35 at TOD, February 10, 2055. Emergency care physician. Killed by multiple stab wounds in robbery attempt in parking lot ofWest SideMemorialHospital. Suspect identified, apprehended, tested positive for Zeus. Currently serving twenty-five to life, Rikers.

Brenegan treated Coyle Swisher for a fractured arm-sports injury- and testified in Swisher's custody case Vemere v. Trent, May 2055, and Kirkendall v. Kirkendall, September 2053.

The addition was Roarke's, she noted. The guy was nothing if not thorough.

She'd take a look at Vemere and Trent and Kirkendall, and keep Brenegan on the active list for now. She was thorough, too.

Cruz, Pedro, age 72. Court reporter. Died of heart condition, October 22, 2058. Medical files confirm.

Cruz served as reporter in several of Swisher's trials in family court, and consulted Swisher regarding nutrition.

Unlikely, Eve decided, and bumped him down the list.

Hill, Lindi and Hester, ages 32 and 29 respectively. Same sex spouses. Died in a vehicular accident, August 2, 2057. Driver at fault, Fein, Kirk, charged with DWI, speeding, two counts of vehicular manslaughter. Serving term in Weizt Rehabilitation Complex.

Yeah, she thought, kill a couple of women because you're drunk and stupid and serve it out in a country club for ten years.

The Hills retained Swisher and Rangle to assist them in their plans to adopt a child. This was in process when they were killed. Both women also were clients of Keelie Swisher.

No motive, Eve thought, and crossed them off.

Mooreland, Amity, age 28 at TOD, May 17, 2059. Dancer. Killed by ex-cohabitation partner in rape/homicide. Lawrence, Jez, convicted. Serving life sentence, Attica.

Mooreland retained Swisher to terminate her cohabitation and to sueLawrence for lost wages due to injuries. She consulted with Keelie Swisher on nutrition and health during her rehabilitation from injuries, and continued to consult until her death.

Lawrence, Jez, would bear another look. Mooreland stayed on the list.

Moss, Thomas. Age 52 at TOD, September 6, 2057. Family Court judge. Killed, along with son, Moss, Evan, age 14, in car bomb explosion.

“Ring,” Eve mumbled.

Moss served as judge in several of Swisher's trials. His wife, Suzanna, consulted Keelie Swisher. The homicide cases remain open.

“Computer, search and list all court cases wherein Swisher, Grant, served as attorney with Judge Thomas Moss presiding.

Time frame for search?

“All cases.”

Acknowledged. Working…

She pushed up, paced. Car bomb. Not the same pattern, not up close and personal like a knife to the throat. But a military assassination technique. A terrorist tactic. So within the profile parameters.

Took a child out that time, too. By plan or circumstance?

She swung back to the computer, considering other health and medical types that might be on the list. Then pulled back. Her unit was going wonky, even though McNab had jury-rigged it. She didn't trust it to run complex multitasks.

“Dallas.”Peabody came to the door. “I got a pop. I think. Socialworker, attached to some of Swisher's cases. Strangled in her bed last year. Investigators looked hard at the boyfriend, they were having some trouble, but couldn't pin him. Case is still open. Her apartment showed no signs of forced entry. No sexual assault, no evidence of burglary. Manual strangulation. No trace evidence of anyone but the vie, the boyfriend, and a coworker, who were both alibied up.”

“Who worked it?”

“Ah…” She lifted her memo book. “Detectives Howard and Little out of the six-two.”

“Tag them, get everything they've got. And check the vic's data. See if she was on one of Swisher's cases with a Judge Moss, Thomas, on the bench.”

“You got a pop, too.”

“It's looking that way.”

Search is complete.

Eve swung toward her screen. “Display. Okay, Moss and Swisher had a lot of business together. We'll cross these with your vie. What's the name?”

“Karin Duberry, age 35 at TOD, single, no children.”

“Lieutenant? Sorry.” One of her detectives moved into the doorway. “You've got a couple of visitors. A Mrs. Dyson and a lawyer.”

Eve scooped up her hair. She was running hot, she thought, but couldn't put this off. “Put them in the lounge. I'll be there. Peabody, do the cross. Work that list for names that have the kind of training or connections we're looking for. I'll be back as soon as I've dealt with this.”

She called Mira's office, left a message with her admin when told the doctor was in session. Grinding her teeth, Eve decided she'd have to handle this one alone.

She found Dyson in what the Central cops lovingly-or sarcastically-called the lounge. It was a step up from the Eatery as far as the noise factor, and a step down on the food choices. Which, given the Eatery, wasn't saying much.

Dyson sat at one of the round tables, her head bent close to Dave Rangle's. Both of them looked as if they'd seen much better days.

“Mrs. Dyson, Mr. Rangle. I appreciate you making the time to come in.”

Jenny Dyson sat up, sat straight. “I had planned to come today, before I got your message. I'd like to ask you first if there's any progress in the investigation.”

“We have what we believe may be a couple of good leads. We're pursuing them. In fact, Mr. Rangle-”