He had fasted, made the sacrifice, cleansed his heart and mind of all worldly evils. Now he dipped his fingers into a small bowl of holy water, touched his fingers to his brow, his heart, lef
t shoulder, then right. He knelt, closing a hand over the cloth scapular he wore. It had been blessed by the Pope himself, and its promise of protection from evil comforted him.
He tucked it tidily under the silk of his shirt where it could rest against warm flesh.
Secure, confident, he lifted his gaze to the crucifix that hung above the sturdy table that held the weapons of his mission. The image of the suffering Christ gleamed silver against a cross of gold. A rich man's visual aide. The irony of owning an image carved from precious metals of a man who had preached humility never touched him.
He lighted the candles, folded his hands, and bending his head prayed with the passion of the faithful, and the mad.
He prayed for grace, and prepared for murder.
*** CHAPTER THREE ***
The Homicide bullpen at Cop Central smelled like day-old coffee and fresh urine. Eve wound her way through the jammed-in desks, barely registering the buzz of chatter from detectives working their 'links. A maintenance droid was busily mopping up the ancient linoleum.
Peabody's cube was a dimly lighted two-foot square in the far corner. Despite its size and location, it was as ruthlessly organized and tidy as Peabody herself.
"Somebody forget where the toilets are?" Eve asked casually, and Peabody turned from her dented, police issue metal desk.
"Bailey had a sidewalk sleeper in for questioning on a knifing. The sleeper didn't like being held as a witness and expressed his displeasure by emptying his bladder on Bailey's shoes. From all reports, said bladder was unusually full."
"Just another day in paradise. Is the sweeper report in on Brennen yet?"
"I just gave them a nudge. It should be coming through shortly."
"Then let's start with the security discs from the Luxury Towers and Brennen's apartment."
"There's a problem there, Lieutenant."
Eve cocked her head. "You didn't get them?"
"I got what there was to get." Peabody picked up a sealed bag containing a single disc. "The Towers's security, penthouse level, for the twelve-hour period before the discovery of Brennen's body and the SCAN-EYE in Brennen's place were disengaged, and empty."
Eve nodded and took the bag. "I should have figured he wouldn't be that stupid. Did you download the incoming and outgoing calls from Brennen's tele-link?"
"Right here." Peabody handed over another disc, neatly labeled.
"My office. We'll run them and see what we've got. I'm going to give Feeney a call," Eve continued as they headed out of the bullpen. "We're going to need the Electronic Detective Division on this."
"Captain Feeney's in Mexico, Lieutenant. Vacation?"
Eve stopped, scowled. "Shit, I forgot. He's got another week, doesn't he?"
"Just over that. In your lovely cliffside villa. To which your devoted aide has yet to be invited."
Eve lifted a brow. "You got a yen to see Mexico?"
"I've seen Mexico, Dallas, I've got a yen to let a hot-blooded caballero have his way with me."
Snorting, Eve unlocked her office door. "We wrap this case up in good time, Peabody, I'll see if I can arrange it." She tossed the discs on her already disordered desk, then shrugged out of her jacket. "We still need someone from EDD. See who they can spare who knows his stuff. I don't want some second-grade tinkerer."
Peabody got out her communicator to make the request while Eve settled behind her desk, slipped the disc of Brennen's communications into her unit.
"Engage," she ordered after remembering her password. "Playback."
There was only one call, an outgoing on the day before Brennen was murdered. He'd called his wife, talked to his children. And the simple, intimate domestic chatter of a man and the family he was planning to join made Eve unbearably sad.
"I have to contact the wife," Eve murmured. "Hell of a way to start the day. Best get it done now before we have a media leak. Give me ten minutes here, Peabody."