“We did, or near enough.”
“Send me the data,” Eve said to Peabody, “then go cut McNab loose. I’ve got the case files from St. Louis coming in shortly.” Or there would be hell to pay. “Anything there that needs a closer look, I’ll let you know.”
“Solid. I went ahead and— Have you got a minute?”
“I’m standing here,” Eve pointed out.
“I’ll leave you to your cop talk,” Roarke said and wandered over to Jenkinson and his eye-burning tie.
“I went ahead and did quick runs on Knight’s family. They come off clean and normal. A couple of minor bumps here and there. I could take a closer look at those, but I don’t think it’d lead anywhere. And I checked travel, because sometimes you don’t think your family knows stuff, but they do. None of them were in New York yesterday, or for months.”
“Good thinking. So for now, we cross any of them off. We’ll take a look at that angle on the other marks. Somebody protecting somebody who was protecting themselves or others. Copy me the data on Hyatt, and take off.”
She turned to go back to her office, saw both Jenkinson, his tie, and Roarke were gone.
Back at her desk, she read Feeney’s data. Fifteen more names—a few of which she actually recognized. A couple more sports figures, a defense attorney she’d faced off with a time or two in court, one other who rang a dim bell she thought might be an actor.
She scanned the amounts paid.
“You had more. You’ve got more on your list,” Eve muttered to herself. “A cool mil in your home safe? Plus those buried accounts, the art and jewelry. You’ve got a longer list somewhere.”
As she started runs on the names she had, her ’link signaled. She nearly ignored it, but decided maybe Nadine had something worth the interruption.
“Don’t talk to me unless you’ve got information,” Eve said.
“I’m fine, how are you?”
“About to cut you off.”
“How about instead you come by my place. I could come to Central, but I just got home and I’d like to stay here. You’re still at work.”
“Do you have something for me worth the trip?”
“I might.”
“Then just spill it.”
“Dallas, I want a big glass of wine, and I don’t want to do this on the ’link.”
“Fine. On the way.”
She cut Nadine off, tagged Roarke with a text.
Need to go by Nadine’s, so leaving now. Sorry.
Even as she grabbed her coat, he answered.
Meet you in the garage.
She ordered all applicable files and data transferred to her home unit, filled a file bag with more. And, taking one last look at her murder board, started out.
She ran into a grim-faced Trueheart, stopped, as he very rarely managed a grim face.
“Problem, Detective?”
“Asshole killed his own sister over a vid game. Fractured her skull with one of his father’s golf clubs because she beat his score and crowed about it. The parents are off on a winter cruise, left him in charge. Seventeen, and he’s in charge? For ten days? Now his fifteen-year-old sister’s dead over a game of Marauders.”
“Is he in the box?”