“Don’t worry about that. Come in and sit.” She gestured them in. “Let me get you something. Have you eaten?”
“Not thinking about food for some time yet. But wouldn’t say no to a chair.”
“And some tea, I think.”
“She could use it,” Roarke said before Eve could speak. “We both could.”
“Just give me a minute.”
She hurried away on bare feet with her lounging robe floating around her ankles. “Peabody?” she asked from the kitchen.
“She’s pretty good, considering. In a regular room—well in the hospital palace Roarke finagled for her. She’ll need a couple more days in anyway, then maybe she can switch to at-home care until she’s a hundred percent again.”
“I’m so glad to hear it. I don’t know if you’ve talked to Mira, but we made more progress today, and I think I could work with a police artist tomorrow.”
She carried a tray back in, hesitated when she saw Eve’s face. “What?”
“We ID’d him this afternoon. We got him.”
“My God.” Celina set the tray down with a little thunk and rattle. “You’re sure? I can’t believe it.”
“We’re sure. It’s one of the reasons we came by. Guess you haven’t had the screen on.”
“No, I haven’t. Clearing the mind, and all that. How? When?”
“I figured I’d left you out of the loop, but everything moved fast once it started moving.”
“That’s not even an issue. He’s locked up? It’s done.” She breathed out slowly, then reached for the teapot. “I don’t even know how to think, or feel. It’s such a relief. How did you find him?”
“Witnesses who saw him assault Peabody got a decent look at him, and his ride. We worked from there. Picked him up. He broke in Interview in less than an hour.”
“You must be not only exhausted but very pleased.” She passed cups of tea around. “It came down to straight cop work, after all.”
“And some luck.”
“I guess I didn’t contribute much, at the end of things.”
“Not so. You did quite a bit.”
“You have a gift,” Roarke continued. “You’ve utilized it.”
“It’s not something I have a choice over.”
“Oh, I disagree.” Eve sipped tea. “You certainly chose to use it when you murdered Annalisa Sommers.”
“What?” Celina’s cup rattled in her saucer. “What did you say?”
“You must’ve been watching John Blue—visioning him—for months. Did you see him kill his mother, Celina? Did it go back that far? Is that when you started to plan how you could get rid of your competition?”
As she stared, her face went stark white. “This is horrible. This is hideous and horrible. You’re accusing me of murder? Of killing poor Annalisa? You have the man responsible. How could you say this to me?”
“I have the man responsible for murdering fifteen women. Fifteen, Celina. He had their eyes on display. Over the past few hours we’ve been disinterring bodies from the backyard on his mother’s place upstate. Bet you know about that place, too. We have thirteen bodies. Thirteen—including his mother whose remains have been positively ID’d. Thirteen women he practiced on.”
Eve’s face wasn’t pale. It was hard as stone, cold as ice, but a faint flush of rage tinged it. “Did you watch him kill them, too? Add Elisa Maplewood, add Lily Napier, and you’ve got your fifteen.”
Celina’s hands fluttered up, crossed over her breasts. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I think you must have pushed yourself over some edge.”
“Right up to it, but not over. If I’d gone over, I’d be breaking your face right now, the way Blue broke my partner’s.”