"No." In a helpless gesture, Vandoren pressed both hands to the barrier. "No, no, no, this can't be right. Marianna."
Gently now, Eve laid a hand on his arm. He was shaking badly, and the hands on the glass had balled into fists and were pounding in short, light beats. "Just nod if you can identify her as Marianna Hawley."
He nodded. Then he began to weep.
"Peabody, find us an empty office. Get him some water." Even as Eve spoke, she found herself engulfed by him, his arms coming around her, his face pressed into her shoulder. His body bowed down to her by the weight of his grief.
She let him hang on, signaling the tech behind the glass to raise the privacy shield.
"Come on, Jerry, come with me now." She kept a supporting arm around him, thinking she'd rather face a stunner on full than a grieving survivor. There was no help for those left behind. No magic, no cure. But she murmured to him as she led him down the tiled hall to the doorway where Peabody stood.
"We can use this one," Peabody said quietly. "I'll get the water."
"Let's sit down." After helping him to a chair, Eve pulled the handkerchief out of the pocket of his suit coat and pressed it into his hand. "I'm sorry for your loss," she said, as she always did. And felt the inadequacy of it, as she always did.
"Marianna. Who would hurt Marianna? Why?"
"It's my job to find out. I will find out."
Something in the way she said it had him looking over at her. His eyes were red and desolate. With an obvious effort he drew in a deep breath. "I -- She was so special." He groped in his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. "I was going to give this to her tonight. I'd planned to wait until Christmas Eve -- Marianna loved Christmas -- but I couldn't. I just couldn't wait."
His hands trembled as he opened the box to show Eve the bright flash of diamond on the engagement ring. "I was going to ask her to marry me tonight. She would have said yes. We loved each other. Was it. . ." Carefully he closed the box again, slipped it back in his pocket. "Was it a robbery?"
"We don't think so. How long have you known her?"
"Six months, almost seven." He stared at Peabody as she came in and held out a cup of water. "Thank you." He took it, but didn't drink. "The happiest six months of my life."
"How did you meet?"
"Through Personally Yours. It's a dating service."
"You use a dating service?" This from Peabody with more than a little surprise.
He hunched his shoulders, sighed. "It was an impulse. I spend most of my time on work and wasn't getting out much. I was divorced a couple years ago, and I guess it made me nervous with women. Anyway, none of the women I met... Nothing clicked. I saw an ad on screen one night, and I thought, what the hell. Couldn't hurt."
He did drink now, one small sip that had his throat working visibly as he swallowed. "Marianna was the third of the first five matches. I went out with the first two -- drinks, just drinks. There was nothing there. But when I met Marianna, everything was there."
He closed his eyes, struggled for composure. "She's so ... wonderful. So much energy, enthusiasm. She loved her job, her apartment, she got a kick out of her theater group. She does community theater sometimes."
Eve noted the way he switched back and forth, past and present tense. His mind was trying to accustom itself to what was, but it wasn't quite ready yet.
"You started dating," she prompted.
"Yes. We'd agreed to meet for drinks. Just drinks -- to scope each other out. We ended up going to dinner, then going for coffee. Talking for hours. Neither one of us saw anyone else after that night. It was just it, for both of us."
"She felt the same way?"
"Yeah. We took it slow. A few dinners, the theater. We both love the theater. We started spending Saturday afternoons together. A matinee, a museum, or just a walk. We went back to her hometown so I could meet her family. The Fourth of July. I took her to meet mine. My mother made dinner."
His eyes unfocused as he stared at something only he could see.
"She wasn't seeing anyone else during this period?"
"No. We'd made a commitment."
"Do you know if anyone was bothering her -- an old boyfriend, a former lover? Her ex-husband?"
"No, I'm sure she would have told me. We talked all the time. We told each other everything." His eyes cleared, the brown hardening like crystal. "Why do you ask that? Was she -- Marianna .. . Did he ... Oh God." On his knee his hand balled into a fist. "He raped her first, didn't he? The fucking bastard raped her. I should have been with her." He heaved the cup across the room, sending water splashing as he lurched to his feet. "I should have been with her. It would never have happened if I'd been with her."