J. Robb: Ritual in Death

When he said nothing, she took out her own PPC, copied all data to Dr. Mira’s office unit. She wanted the department’s top profiler and psychiatrist to review and analyze. Added to it, Eve thought, one of Mira’s daughters was Wiccan. Maybe, just maybe, they’d tap that source.

The cold white tiles of the morgue echoed with their footsteps. Eve scented coffee-or what passed for it here-as they strode past Vending. She scented death long before they pushed through the double doors of the autopsy room.

Ava lay naked on a slab with Chief Medical Examiner Morris working on her. His delicate and precise Y-cut opened her, exposed her. Eve heard Peabody swallow hard behind her.

Morris straightened as they came in. The protective gown covered his silver-edged blue suit. He wore his dark hair pulled back in a long, sleek tail. “Company,” he said, and the faintest of smiles moved across his exotically sexy face. “And so early in the morning. Roarke, this is unexpected.” But his eyes tracked over to Peabody. “There’s water in the friggie, Detective.”

“Thanks.” Her face glowed with sweat as she hurried over for a bottle.

“What can you tell me?” Eve asked him.

“We haven’t gotten very far. You flagged her for me specifically, and I’ve only been in about an hour. And that’s because the ME on duty was pissy that he couldn’t get his hands in.”

“I didn’t want anyone but you on her. I’d rather wait. I have a pretty good idea how it went anyway. Can you tell me if she was raped?”

“I can tell you she had rough sex-very rough-multiple times. As to whether it was consensual or not? She can’t tell us. But from the tearing, I’d say rape. Gang rape.”

“Sperm?”

“They doused her-vaginally, anally, orally to remove. I’ve already sent samples to the lab, but I wouldn’t hold my breath for DNA. I’d say multiple partners. She was brutally used, pre-and postmortem.” He looked down at the body. “There are so many levels of cruelty, aren’t there? And they all walk in our doors.”

“What about the tat? It looked fresh and real.”

“It’s both. Inked within the last twelve to fifteen hours.”

“They wanted her marked,” Eve mused. “The throat wound came first. Death blow. Right-handed assailant, facing.”

“If I were a teacher, you’d be my pet. There are sixty-eight other wounds, several of which would have been mortal on their own, some of which are relatively superficial. I want to run a closer analysis, but on a first pass, at least a dozen different blades were used on her. The bruising, from finger grips, hands, fists, feet. Some premortem. And yet-”

“Not one defensive wound,” Eve finished. “No sign she was restrained. She took it. I need to know what she took or what they gave her.”

“I’ve flagged the tox screen priority. I can tell you she wasn’t a user, unless it was very rare, very casual. This was a very healthy woman, one who tended to her body, inside and out. There’ll be a rape drug in her, something potent enough to cause her to tolerate this kind of abuse without a struggle.”

“I’ve got somebody in the tank. He was loaded. I sent a sample to the lab. Her parents and her brother are coming in from Indiana.”

“God pity them.” Morris touched one sealed and bloodied hand to Ava’s arm. “I’ll see she’s cleaned up before they view her.” Morris glanced over at Roarke, with understanding in his dark eyes. “We’ll take care of her,” he said. “And them. You can be sure of it.”

As they walked down the white-tiled tunnel, Roarke spoke for the first time. “It’s a hard life you’ve chosen, Lieutenant. A brutal road that brings you to that so often.”

“It chose me,” she said, but was grateful to step outside, and into the cool air of the new spring morning.

Eve gave Roarke an Upper West Side address when they got back into the AT.

“Mika Nakamura’s worked for me for nine years.” He pulled out of the parking slot. “Four of those as head of security at the hotel.”

“Then she must be good,” Eve commented. “And should be able to explain what the hell went wrong last night. She was on the log from noon until just after twenty-three hundred. Do you usually work your people for an eleven-hour stretch?”

“No. She should have logged out at eight.” His eyes stayed on the road, his voice remained cool and flat. “Paul Chambers came on at seven. I spoke with him last night, and again this morning. He took the main hotel as Mika told him she’d handle the VIP and Towers, as she had other work to catch up on. She also told him she’d be running some maintenance on the cams.”

“Is that usual?”

“As head of security, Mika would have some autonomy. She’s earned it.”

Touchy, Eve thought. Very touchy. “Have you spoken with her?”

“I haven’t been able to reach her. And, yes, I fully intended to see her in person before you contacted me about the discs.” The tone, very cool, very level, spoke of ruthlessly restrained fury. “She wouldn’t hold the position she does if she hadn’t passed the initial screening, and the twice yearly screening thereafter.”

In the backseat, Peabody cleared her throat. “She comes up clean. So does her husband of five years. One child, female, age three. Um, born in Tokyo, and relocated to New York at age ten when her parents-who also come clean-moved here for career purposes. Attended both Harvard and Columbia. Speaks three languages and holds degrees in Communications, Hotel Management, and Psychology.”

“How did she end up yours?” Eve asked Roarke.

“I recruited her right out of college. I have scouts, you could call them, and they brought her to my attention. It’s not in the realm of any reality that she had any part in what was done to that girl.”

“She logged out about ten minutes before Pike walked into Maxia’s party. And minutes before the security for the elevators and lobby cleared. We have to look at that. She could’ve been forced, threatened.”

“There are fail-safes.” He shook his head. “She’s smart. She’s too damn smart to get herself trapped that way.”

Better to let it lie, Eve decided, until they spoke to the woman in question.

Security paid well enough, in Roarke’s domain, to warrant a tidy duplex in a tony neighborhood. People clipped along the sidewalk wearing suits and style while they sipped what she assumed was fancy fake coffee out of go-cups. Pretty women with bouncy hair herded pretty children toward what, she assumed again, would be private schools. A couple of teenagers whizzed by on airboards while a third chased after them on street blades.

Eve climbed the short steps to the door. “You can take the lead with her,” she told Roarke, “but when I step in, you have to step back.”

Rather than respond, he rang the bell.

Privacy screens shielded the front windows, and the security lock held a steady red. As the seconds ticked away, Eve wondered how a woman might go into the wind with a husband and a kid. They had a weekend home in Connecticut, she mused, and relatives in Japan. If…

The security light blinked green.

Mika Nakamura was a stunner. Eve had seen that from the ID shot. But at the moment, she looked hard used. Sallow skin, dull, bloodshot eyes, the tangled mess of ebony hair all spoke of a hard night, or an illness.

“Sir?” the voice rasped. Mika cleared her throat, opened the door a bit wider. She wore a long scarlet robe messily tied at the waist.

“I need to speak with you, Mika.”

“Of course. Yes. Is something wrong?”

She stepped back. Eve noted the house was dim, that the privacy screens had been boosted up to block the light. Even so, the interior was splashed with vibrant colors from rugs and art.