J. Robb - Survivor in Death

“Jaynene Brenegan?”

“Yeah.” Sade frowned. “You knew her?”

“Why was her testimony important?”

“Trauma expert-and she just blew the bastard's lawyers out of the water. Made it clear that her exam of Dian showed consistent and long term physical abuse, impossible to self-inflict. They couldn't shake her, and it was one of the things that really turned the tide. She was killed two, no, must be three years ago now. Some goddamn junkie knifed her after her shift. Bastard claimed he found her dead, just helped himself to her money, but they slapped his ass away.”

“Dian Kirkendall got full custody.”

“Right, with him getting monthly supervised visits. He never got the chance to make one. She whiffed a day or two later. Grant was sick about it, we all were. Worried he might have gotten to her somehow.”

“You believed he might've done her violence.”

“Grant did. Cops never found a trace of her, or the kids.”

“Did Kirkendall make any threats to her, or to Grant?”

“He was too cool for that. Like arctic. Never broke a sweat, never said a word that you could construe as threatening. But believe me, you could see he had it in him.”

Eve nodded to Peabody who drew the sketches out of her bag. “Do you recognize these men?”

Sade set the bottle down, took a good long look. “No. And I'd remember if I'd seen them. Scary. Are these the men who-” She broke off. “Kirkendall? You think he had something to do with what happened to Grant and his family? That bastard son of a bitch!”

“We have questions we'd like to ask him.”

“He could have done it,” she said softly. “He's capable. You know how you see someone, or brush up against them on the street, and everything in you freezes? That's the thing with him. Makes your blood run cold. But, Jesus, it was so long ago. It was years ago. I'd just started with the firm, was living in this one-room box up on One Hundred and Seventh.”

“We're checking several leads,” Eve said. “Thanks for the details on this. Oh, just curious. How'd you find this place, the roommate?”

“They found me, basically. I met Jilly at this club I used to hang at. Friend of a friend of a friend sort of thing. We hit it off. Then she told me she had this place, was looking for a roommate since she was away so much. Just wanted somebody there, you know, so it wasn't empty half the time. I snapped it.”

“And this was after the trial?”

“Right after, now that you mention it. Just a couple of weeks.” Sade's hand trembled a little as she reached for her water. “Why?”

“Did you ever talk with Jilly about work? About cases? Details.”

“Nothing confidential, but yeah. Oh shit, yeah. Just the broad strokes of something hot or funny. I talked about the Kirkendall case-no names. Just about how hard Grant worked on it, how much he'd wanted to get what was right for this poor woman and her kids. Oh God, oh God. But we lived here together, for six years. Almost six years.”

“I'd like her full name.”

“Jilly Isenberry,” Sade said dully. “She went with me to Grant's place. I don't know how many times. She went to parties there, to barbecues. She had dinner at their table. I got in touch with her when this happened, and she cried. She cried, but she's not coming back. I took her into their home.”

“You're not responsible. This may be nothing, but if it's not, you're still not responsible. What you've just told us may help us find the people who are.”

Eve stepped back, drew Sade out of the kitchen. “Sit down. Tell us more about her.”

Sharp-looking woman,” Peabody commented. She brought Jilly Isenberry's data and image up on the dash screen so Eve could see. “Thirty-eight, mixed race, single. No marriage or cohab on record. Employed as flight attendant, Orbital Transportation, since 2053. Previous employment listed as-hoohaw-”

Eve, fighting traffic, only furrowed her brow. “Hoohaw?”

“I think it's a military exclamation. Maybe. Which fits, as prior to her employment at Orbital, she was Corporal Isenberry, U.S. Army. Put in twelve years. You'd think she'd make more than corporal in a dozen.”

“And you'd think a dozen years as a soldier would point her toward something other than serving drinks and passing out vids to yeehaws heading to the gambling world.”

“Yeehaws?”

“Another military term. We get the military records, you can bet she served with Kirkendall somewhere, sometime.”

“And that kind of coincidence-”

“Isn't. She didn't change her data, change her name, nothing. They thought they'd be gone by the time we got this far, if we ever got this far. We've got our who, we've got our why. Now we find the son of a bitch. Dallas,” she said into her communicator when it signalled.

“A legal adjutant for military services requests a meeting,” Whitney informed her. “My office. ASAP.”

“Heading toward Central now, sir.”

Eve judged the traffic, the distance, then hit the sirens and went in hot.

Peabodywas still catching her breath when they caught the glide to Whitney's floor. “Are my eyes back down where they belong? I don't like to go into a meeting when they're rolled up white. Looks bad.”

For the hell of it, Eve gave her a thump on the back firm enough to havePeabody nearly wheeling off the glide. “There. They're back.”

“I don't think that was funny. I don't think that was funny especially after you nearly killed us three times flying back here.”

“It was twice, and really, it was only maimed. People don't respect sirens in this city, that's the problem. They just keep la, la, la, when an emergency vehicle needs to get the hell where it's going.”

“The Rapid Cab you nearly creamed wasn't going la, la, la. It was more a scream of abject terror.”

“Yeah.” It made Eve smile to remember it. “So he should've gotten the hell out of my way.” She bounced her shoulders a couple of times. “You know, that little ride buzzed me up. Almost as good as coffee.”

They were passed straight into Whitney's office, where her commander and the rest of the team were already in place. Along with a holo-projection of a woman in dress whites.

Spruced up for it, Eve thought, but couldn't bother to be here in person.

“Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody, Major Foyer, United States Armed Forces, legal branch. Major Foyer requires further incentive to release the full military records of the individuals we have requested.”

“Those records are the property of theU. S. government,” Foyer said in clipped tones. “We have a duty to protect the men and women who serve.”

“And we have a duty to protect the citizens of this city,” Eve put in. “Information has come into my hands during the course of a multiple homicide investigation that leads me to believe Kirkendall, Roger, former sergeant, U.S. Army, is involved.”

“Disclosure of this nature requires more than the belief of an officer in the civilian sector, Lieutenant. The Revised Patriot Act, section 3 implemented 2040, specifically-”

“Gives the government carte blanche to demand and receive personal data on any citizen, while secreting data on their own. I know how it works. However, when a member of the armed forces is under suspicion for acts against the government or its citizenry, those records can be turned over to both military and civilian authorities.”

“Your suspicions, Lieutenant, are not enough. Evidence-”

“Commander, with your permission?”

He raised his brow when Eve stepped toward his computer, then nodded.

Eve ordered the file on the Swishers. “Images of victims, crime scene, onscreen.”

They flashed on, stark and bloody. “He did that.”