Steadier, she closed the window, walked back to the table, and poured more coffee.
Some of the color had seeped back into Celina’s cheeks when Peabody brought her back in. She’d fussed with her face a little—bright lip dye, eye gunk to cover the worst of the damage. Women, in Eve’s opinion, could worry about the strangest things at the strangest times.
Once Celina was seated, Peabody went over to get a bottle of water.
“You’re better off with this than the coffee,” she said, setting it on the table.
“Yes, you’re right. Thanks.” She held out a hand, gave Peabody’s a squeeze. “Thank you for staying with me, helping me pull myself back together.”
“No problem.”
“You must think me very weak,” she said to Eve.
“You’re wrong. I don’t think anything of the kind. I . . . We . . .” she amended. “We come to them after it’s done, and we see, day after day, the results of what people can do to each other. The blood, the gore, the waste. It’s not easy. It should never be easy. But we don’t see it happening—how it happens. We don’t feel what the victim feels and have to take it in.”
“Yes, you do.” Celina wiped her fingers under her eyes. “You’ve just found a way to handle it. Now, I have to.”
She steadied herself with more water.
“He undressed her after. I think. There was a part of me, by now, resisting the vision. Fighting it. But I think he took her clothes; they were torn from the rape. He carried her . . . Not her—damn it.”
She sipped water, took three long breaths. “What I mean is she’s someone else to him. He sees someone else, and he’s punishing someone else. Someone who punished him. In the dark. He’s afraid of the dark.”
“He kills at night,” Eve pointed out.
“He has to. He has to overcome it?”
“Possibly. What else?”
“I broke out of the vision. I broke out because I couldn’t stand it. And I called you. I know I should have let it run its course. I might have seen something that could help. I was panicked, and I fought it until I broke out.”
“We got to her, to the scene, quicker because you contacted me. We were able to preserve the scene because we were able to get there so fast. That matters.”
“I hope to God it does. Are you any closer to him?”
“I think we are.”
Celina closed her eyes. “Thank God. If you have anything of his, I can try to see him.”
“We have the murder weapon.”
Celina shook her head. “I’ll try, but it’s bound to be like it was before, so what I see—feel—is the act itself, and the emotions raging through it. I need something he’s touched with his bare hands. Something he’s worn or held to really see him, to add to what you already know.”
Eve laid the cord on the table. “Try anyway.”
Celina wet her lips, then reached out, touched the ribbon.
Her head snapped back, and her eyes rolled up so only a slice of green showed in the white. As she started to slide out of the chair, her fingers went limp and released the ribbon.
> Eve leaped up, caught her before she hit the ground.
“All him. Nothing of her. She’s gone. Hidden away when he puts it around her neck. There’s just his rage and fear and excitement. It’s all over me like—like insects biting at my skin. Horrible.”
“What does he do when he’s done with her?”
“Goes back to the light. He can go back to the light. I don’t know what it means. My head. My head’s splitting.”
“We’ll get you something for it, and have you taken home. Peabody?”