me objectivity and interfere. Because the victim must be our priority. As a woman, I feel that compassion and outrage on Elisa Maplewood’s behalf. Like Lieutenant Dallas, I want the individual responsible for her suffering and pain—for the suffering and pain of her family, her friends—identified and punished.”
“Do you agree, Lieutenant Dallas?”
“Yes, I do. A woman stepped out of her home, intending to walk her dog in the city’s greatest park. Her life was taken from her, and that’s enough for outrage. But it was taken viciously, violently, deliberately. As a cop, as a woman, I will pursue the man who took Elisa Maplewood’s life, however long it takes, until he’s brought to justice.”
“How was she mutilated?”
“At this point, that detail of the crime and investigation is not for public consumption.”
“Don’t you believe in the public’s right to know, Lieutenant?”
“I don’t believe the public has a right to know everything. And I believe the media has the responsibility to respect the department’s decision to hold certain details back. We don’t do so to deprive or deny the public of their rights, but to preserve the integrity of an investigation.
“Nadine,” she said, and had Nadine blinking. Eve never referred to her by her first name on-air. “We’re women in what could be considered high-powered professions. However much a crime like this disturbs us, a crime in this case specifically targeted at women, we have to maintain that professionalism in order to do the job we’ve signed up to do. And in this case, the case of Elisa Maplewood, it will be women who stand for her, and who work toward seeing that her killer is punished to the fullest extent of the law.”
Nadine started to speak again, but Eve shook her head. “That’s it. Camera off.”
“I have more questions.”
“That’s it,” Eve repeated. “Let’s take a walk.”
“But—” Nadine only sighed as Eve was already hiking away. “Slow it down. Heels here.”
“Your choice, pal.”
“You wear a weapon, I wear heels. Tools of our respective trades.” She hooked her arm through Eve’s to slow her down. “So, what was that last bit about? Eve.”
“A personal message to the killer. Off-record here, Nadine.”
“Tell me how he mutilated her. Off-record, Dallas. It’s driving me crazy.”
“He cut out her eyes.”
“Jesus.” Nadine breathed in, stared off into the trees. “Oh, Jesus. Was she already dead?”
“Yeah.”
“Thank God for that. So you’ve got some psychotic out there who has a big hate on for women? Not Maplewood specifically.”
“That’s my working theory.”
“And the reason you suggested the interview. Us three girls. Clever of you.”
“Tell me what you know about Breen Merriweather.”
“Breen?” Nadine’s head snapped around. “Oh God, oh God, did you find her?” She gripped Eve’s arm now. “Is she dead? Did this bastard kill her, too?”
“No, she hasn’t been found. I don’t know if she’s dead, but I suspect she is, and I believe it might be connected. What do you know about her?”
“I know she was a nice, hardworking woman who adored her son . . . Jesus, is he targeting single mothers?”
“I don’t think so, no.”
“Let me take a second.” She walked a few feet away, hugged her arms. “We weren’t best pals or anything like that. More a working friendship. I liked her, and appreciated her efficiency. I saw her, evening shift, the night she disappeared. I left the station about seven. I know she was on till midnight, handling the eleven o’clock. Everything I’ve heard is second-hand, but it’s reliable.”
She turned back. “She clocked out, left the station just after her shift ended. She would have taken the subway home, that’s what she always did. It’s just three blocks east. One of the guys saw her heading out, yelled good night. She waved to him. As far as I know he’s the last one in the station who saw her. He said she was walking east, toward the subway.”
“Did she do crafts?”