“I don’t know,” Peabody realized. “It’s just called that. I’m betting the tool and product. You can use the tool for years, and the product’s not that expensive. Wash or brush out your hair, you shed the character—and the disguise.”
“Yeah, that’s my bet. Those areas the seamstress gave us—neither of them are close to DeLano. She wasn’t out stalking DeLano. She lives or works around there. I say both. Working private now, working in her own place. As little contact with people as Smith as she can manage. She needs to keep Smith fluid and ready to absorb characters. Her priority is to live the scene, writing it her way. Her needs and priorities couldn’t be met if she spent all day sewing in a basement.”
She played with angles, calculated probabilities on the drive back to Central. When traffic slowed on the bridge, she took a year or two off Peabody’s life by going vertical for ten car lengths. In the back, Callendar didn’t even blink.
When she pulled into her slot, Eve shoved out of the car. “Callendar, keep at it, but send me what you’ve got so far.”
“Can do. Will do.”
“Peabody, contact the team, tell them to shift over to these new areas, coordinate with the locals. And add a male with dark brown curly hair to the list.”
She got on the elevator, thinking, thinking, thinking. Hopped off when it insisted on stopping on every level for others to pile on. “Callendar, let Feeney know I’m back in the house, and need whatever he can give me.”
“Can and will. Cha.”
Eve jumped on a glide, kept moving up while Peabody hustled to match her pace.
“Slippery, she’s slippery, lives in her own head most of the time, lived in the shadows all her life. Choice or circumstance, but she lived there. Writing’s going to be her way into the light, then she gets shut down. DeLano won’t read her work. That’s the first crack. Decides DeLano’s stolen from her, stolen her work, her chance. That’s the next crack, and what’s been simmering in there starts leaking out. She has to pay for stealing that light. And Smith has to shove everything else aside and focus. Quits her job. She can manage on the side work and whatever she’s squirreled away. She can get a smaller, cheaper place. But then, she’s putting her work out there, showing it off, and people—jealous fuckers—criticize it.”
“Some would be downright mean on top of it,” Peabody predicted. “It’s easy to be mean online.”
“And that’s the final break. The cracks just explode. She’s better than all of them. She’s sure as hell better than that bitch thief DeLano. Screw the light. It’s the dark that has the power. The dark that can kill and get away with it. I see her,” Eve stated. “I see her. I’ll know her when I look in her eyes.”
She headed straight to her office, pulled up short when she found Roarke working on her comp, working at her desk.
He glanced up. “And there you are. If you want this, you’ll need to give me another minute. I started here, as it’s handy and in a quiet spot.”
“Keep going. I need a minute, too.”
She tossed aside her coat, contacted Yancy.
“Where are you?” she asked as the screen showed movement.
“Just heading out. End of shift.”
“I need a favor.”
“What’s the favor?”
“The sketch. Can you use it to do another? She’ll be going male, curly dark brown hair, about jaw length. Well groomed. Rich guy. No facial hair. Age about thirty-five.” She cast her mind back into the book for more details. “Heavier eyebrows and blue eyes. Dark blue, almost navy.”
“I can do that. It won’t take long.”
“I’ll owe you. Send it to me when you’ve got it.”
She programmed coffee, paced, tried working on her PPC, as Roarke hogged the comp.
“Would you like to know what I’ve got?”
She all but pounced. “Yes.”
“Ann E. Smith left Delaware with sixty-three thousand and change in savings. She had no income for half a year, and listed ‘novelist’ on her tax returns, with documentation for writing supplies.”
“If she lived off her savings for six months, that sixty-three didn’t go far in New York.”
“Rent and utilities ate more than half in that tax year. She sought and found employment at Dobb’s, lived frugally. She paid her rent, taxes, all bills promptly and in full. I’d say she used cash for most expenses, as there is no credit or debit card in her name. Approximately nine months ago, she withdrew all funds from the local bank she used, stopped paying rent, stopped reporting income. Essentially, she’s been living off the grid since that time.”
“You’re confirming what I have, but giving me nothing new.”