“On it. I’ve got a cousin who lives in the Ozarks,” Peabody said as she worked. “A little place outside of Pigeon Run.”
“I know Pigeon Run. Pretty spot.”
“It is. I haven’t been there since I was about sixteen, but I remember. She and her man and their boys run a farmer’s market co-op.”
“Lydia Bench and Garth Foxx?”
Surprised, Peabody glanced around. “Well, yeah. You know them?”
“A little. My sister more. She hauls harvests down to them, and hauls stuff back at least once a month. It’s a small world no matter how big it gets.”
“Let’s keep the world focused on murder for now,” Eve suggested. “Get the data up, Peabody.”
“It’s coming.”
“This here’s the first.” Banner nodded toward the screen as the name and ID shot scrolled on. “Vickie Lynn Simon. A licensed companion, worked out of Tulsa mostly. Her body was found on a farm road about ten miles out of the city. Beaten and stabbed. Overkill, they called it.”
“That was closed yesterday,” Eve told him. “You were probably on your way here. They tied a second vic to it, and tracked down the killer. It looks solid, and the second vic was killed last week. This isn’t ours.”
“Then I’ve only got two maybes. This one, Marc Rossini, owned a restaurant in Little Rock. Beaten, stabbed, burned. Right inside the restaurant, after closing. Busted the place up, too.”
“I looked at that one,” Eve remembered. “We can leave it as a maybe, look deeper, but it doesn’t ring for me. Rossini had a gambling problem, and owed a couple hundred K. Reads like enforcement that went too far.”
“One more, then. Robert Jansen. Beaten – defensive wounds on this one. Head caved in – likely by a tire iron. Broken leg, blows to his back, face. Defensive wound on his hands, arms. His body was found off the road, in some high brush off Highway 12, some south of Bentonville. They figured he’d been dead about a week before some kid needed to pee, and his mama pulled over, took him into the brush. Likely scarred that boy for life. The animals had been at the body by then.”
“That’s one of mine,” Eve said, gaze sharpening. “I’d just started looking at this one. It fits the route. Business trip, right? Guy’s on a business trip, and driving from Fort Smith to Bentonville in a rental car. Car’s never turned up.”
“No, ma’am.” Banner caught Santiago’s smothered laugh. “Sir, that is. FBI dismissed this one out of hand. No signs of torture. It reads like maybe he had car trouble, or he stopped – maybe to pee or to give somebody a hand. That somebody went at him, he fought back, and got a tire iron to the back of the head and across the face for his trouble.”
“Took his vehicle, wanted the vehicle.” That was the play as Eve saw it. “Where’s their vehicle?”
“Didn’t find any. I checked, and none of the towing companies picked one up. None of the local law enforcement has a report on any abandoneds in that area.”
“Could’ve been on foot, but I don’t much like it. One could’ve driven each vehicle, then they’d sell one. Opportunity.” Eve began to pace. “Get him to stop. Seasoned business traveler, why does he stop on some bumfuck road?”
“A skirt,” Santiago offered.
“Yeah, most likely. Having some trouble, honey? Why, yes, I am. Thank you so much for stopping. It’s dark and scary out here. Partner moves in. Looks like a slam dunk, right? Maybe even something they’ve done before. Just boosting a ride, but this guy does some damage. Maybe he goes after the woman, and the partner bashes him. Maybe he’s getting the best of the partner, and the woman grabs the tire iron and whales in. Oh-oh, look at that. Dead guy, or seriously hurt guy. What to do.”
“Drag him into the bushes,” Peabody finished, “and get the hell out of there.”
“Then, look what we did, together. Wasn’t that exciting? Wasn’t that a rush?”
Oh, it played, Eve thought as it ran through her head. It played like a big, fat violin at the opera – and just as tragically.
“His blood’s on them. Bashing heads will do that. The smell of it, the feel of it, the look of it, all warm and red and wet. It just gets them going.”
&
nbsp; “Together.” Mira nodded. “It cements their relationship, takes it to this new level. He – the victim – becomes the enemy they defeated for each other. And sex is a reward. It then becomes a goal. And it requires more. More time, experimentation. This, if this was the first, or at least one of theirs, was quick and brutal, and not necessarily premeditation.”
“Jansen was their happy accident,” Eve said. “So they think, What if we planned it out, what if we set it up and did it again, knowing how it’s going to make us feel? It works for me.”
“Just like that.” Banner looked around with a kind of wonder.
“No, not just like that. Santiago, Carmichael, you’re going to – Where the hell is this?”
“Closest would be Monroe, Arkansas, not far from the Oklahoma border.”