J. Robb - Born In Death

“And how can I contact your clients?”

“Oh, God.” He pushed a hand through his hair. “I suppose you must. They’re staying at the Palace. Your husband’s, I believe.”

“Small world. And Mr. Kraus.”

“Also entertaining clients with my wife, in my home. Madeline Bullock, and her son Winfield Chase, of the Bullock Foundation. They were our guests for a couple of days while they were in New York. We had dinner and played cards. Until about midnight, I believe.”

“I’ll need to contact them.”

“They’re traveling. I believe they’re making a stop or two on their way back to London, where the Foundation is based.”

So, she’d track them down.

“Mr. Kraus has stated that neither of the victims approached him with any questions or any problems pertaining to their jobs, or their personal lives. Did they approach either of you?”

“No.” Sloan said it flatly.

“I spoke with Bick a few days before this happened,” Myers began. “Regarding the execution of a trust fund for a client’s new grandchild. He never mentioned a problem.”

“Thank you. It may be necessary for me to speak with all of you again, and will certainly be necessary for me to interview the supervisors and associates of the victims in this matter.”

“Gentlemen, would you excuse us.” Sloan lifted a hand. “I’d like a word with Lieutenant Dallas in private.”

“Jacob,” Kraus began.

“I don’t need legal counsel, for God’s sake, Robert. Leave us alone.”

When they were, Sloan pushed away from the table, walked to the wall of glass. “I liked that girl.”

“Excuse me?”

“Natalie. I liked her. Fresh, bright, had a spark in her. She was friendly with my grandson. Friendly,” Sloan repeated as he turned. “They worked in the same department. Her department head was about to put her up for promotion. She would have gotten it. I spoke with her parents this morning. You think there’s no compassion here? No sympathy? There’s more.”

Those thin hands fisted. “There’s rage. This firm is a home to me. I built it. Someone came into my home and killed two of my people. I want you to find the bastard. But if, in the course of your investigation, confidential data regarding clients of this firm leaks, I’ll have your job.”

“Then we understand each other, Mr. Sloan. As long as you understand that if, during the course of my investigation, I learn that you had any part – directly, indirectly – in those murders, I’ll have you in a cage.”

He crossed to her, and this time, held out his hand. “Then we have a perfect understanding.”

EVE FOUND PEABODY AND THE REST OF THE team finishing up in Byson’s office.

“McNab, I want you to go with the officers to transport all these items to Central. I want you with the boxes and their contents every step of the way. You personally log them in. And lock them up – conference room five. I’ve cleared that with the commander. Take the electronics directly to Feeney.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Those electronics are to be logged a second time into EDD, with your code and with Feeney’s.”

He lifted his brows. “We got national security in here?”

“We’ve got our asses in there, so if you don’t want yours in a sling, log and document every step. Peabody, you and I are going to get some statements from associates. You take this department, and Byson’s people. Do another round with his supervisor. I’ll take Copperfield’s.”

She started out. “Every step of the way, McNab,” she repeated, then took the elevator to Natalie’s department. She knew just where she wanted to start.

“I need to speak with Jacob Sloan, the grandson.”

This time around the receptionist didn’t hesitate, but simply beeped an interoffice ’link. “Jake? A Lieutenant Dallas would like to speak with you. Of course.”

“Third door, left,” Eve was told. “Excuse me? Would you – do you know anything about a memorial?”

“No. Sorry. I’m sure the family will make an announcement.”

She followed the direction and found Jake Sloan waiting just outside his office door. He was built like his grandfather, but youth made him lanky. His hair was a dark blond, pulled back in a fat little tail at the nape of his neck. His eyes were a bleak sea foam.

“You’re the one who’s in charge of Natalie and Bick’s murders. Investigating their murders, I mean. I’m Jake Sloan.”

“I’d like to speak to you. Privately.”

“Yeah, come on in. You want something?” he asked as he closed the door behind her.

“No, thanks.”

“I can’t settle.” He paced around a small office with posters in geometric shapes and primary colors on the walls. There were toys on his desk – or what she thought of as toys, in any case. A bright red squeeze ball mocked up like a devil with horns, a cartoon dog on a fat spring, a curly tube that rocked on a string and changed colors with the movements.

He walked to a tiny refreshment area and pulled a bottle of water from a minifriggie.

“I almost didn’t come in today,” he told Eve. “But I couldn’t stand the idea of staying home. Staying alone.”

“You and Natalie knew each other well.”

“We were pals.” His smile was shaky and brief. “Had lunch together a couple days a week maybe, with Bick if he could make it. Gossip in the break room, hang out. We’d go out together a couple of times a month, usually. Nat and Bick, me and whatever girl I was seeing. One girl the last six months.”

He dropped down in his chair. “I’m rambling. You don’t care about any of that.”

“Actually, I do. Do you know anyone who’d want to hurt Natalie?”

“No.” She saw the gleam of tears before he turned his head to stare hard at the image of a blue circle inside a red triangle framed on the wall. “People liked Nat. I don’t understand how this could happen. Her and Bick. Both of them. I keep thinking it’s going to be some awful mistake and she’ll poke her head in the door and say, ‘Skinny latte?’”

He turned back, tried that smile again. “We’d get lattes in the break room.”

“Were you and Natalie ever involved romantically, sexually?”

“Oh, jeez, no. It wasn’t like that.” Spots of color rode on his cheeks now. “Sorry, it’s kind of like thinking about nailing my sister, you know? We just hit it off, day one. Friends, like we’d known each other already. And I don’t guess either of us were what the other was looking for that way. Nat, she was looking for Bick. They were, like, fated, you know? You could just see it. God.”

He propped his elbows on the desk, lowered his head to his hands. “It just makes me sick to think what happened to them.”

“Did she say anything to you about any concerns, any problems? Since you were close, would she have told you if something was bothering her?”

“I’d have thought she would, but she didn’t. And something was.”

Eve zeroed in. “How do you know?”

“Because I knew her. I could see it. But she wouldn’t talk about it. Said she was handling it, not to worry. I teased her that she was getting wedding jitters, going to do a runaway bride, and she played along. But you know, that wasn’t it.” He shook his head. “She was anxious about the details of the wedding, but not getting married, if you get what I mean.”

“So what was it?”

“I think it was an account. I think she was having trouble with one of her accounts.”

“Why?”

“Worked with her door locked a lot the last couple weeks. That wasn’t Nat.”

“Any idea which account?”

He shook his head again. “I didn’t push. All of us have at least a couple of accounts that we can’t discuss with other people in the department. I guess I thought she was losing a big client and trying to put out the fire. Happens.”