“A ghost from the past. It would shake anyone.”
“It shook Whitney, too.” She breathed out, and breathed easier for saying it out loud. “Hell, it shook me to see two of the toughest men I know shaken. So that’s that end of it.”
Eve dropped down in the chair again, scrubbed her hands over her face, raked them back through her hair. “I played him a little—Roarke—over something. Not all the way, because there’s a core of truth in it, but I played him to get him to agree to talk to you.”
Mira sat again, crossed her legs again. “Well played then.”
“It was actually Peabody’s idea, but it’s a good one. Having him talk to you directly instead of me passing what he knows about Cobbe.”
“That’s a very solid core of truth. It would be helpful.”
“But around that’s the squishy part, because I want him—I want you to …”
“I understand. Why don’t I contact him? I could talk to him early this evening, at your house, where he’s comfortable, if he likes. Or at my home. Either is less official than here.”
“Yes. Thanks. Thanks. I have to get back. I have the victim’s family coming in.”
“I’ll write the profile, copy it to all parties.”
“Okay.” Eve rose. “I appreciate the extended time.” She started out, stopped. “I don’t want you or Mr. Mira to take any chances, I want you to stay aware, but I don’t see Cobbe looking at either of you. He wouldn’t understand you’re family. He wouldn’t get that.”
“His lack of understanding, of being capable of understanding Roarke or you, is how you’ll stop him.”
Eve counted on it, worked it all over in her head as she took the glides back to Homicide.
Only Detectives Carmichael and Santiago manned desks—Santiago working his comp, Carmichael her ’link. Baxter and Trueheart were in Maryland, she remembered, Jenkinson and Reineke—according to the bullpen board—in the field.
Peabody prepping the conference room.
“Santiago, Carmichael—both Carmichaels—Shelby, coordinate with EDD on a search and seize. Plan on moving on it at fourteen hundred hours. Take your fine-tooth combs.”
“What the hell is a fine-tooth comb?”
“It’s a comb with really skinny teeth close together so you don’t miss anything,” Santiago told her.
“Okay, take those and don’t miss any fucking thing. Modesto homicide. Husband’s going to be in the box around fourteen-thirty hours unsuccessfully weaseling his way out of confessing to hiring a hit on his wife.
“Read the file.”
The rest she had to say to her squad would wait until all were present and accounted for.
She went to her office, put together the file she wanted for her interview with Tween. Since McNab had come through, she added the text messages. Added the art sale, the shadow account and transfers.
Her comm signaled.
“The Modesto family just arrived. I’m escorting them to conference room two.”
“On my way.”
She took the time to text Reo.
Search team assigned. Will be ready to roll out by fourteen hundred. Will send officers to bring Tween in for questioning at that time. He’s going to lawyer up, so you’ll have plenty of time to get to Central for the interview. Put through the warrants.
She made her way down to the conference room, stepped in as Peabody offered the family coffee or tea.
Two men, two women. The older woman—an older version of the victim—wept openly. The younger man—dark hair, green eyes, soft voice murmuring in Italian—comforted her.
The older man—silver hair, long nose, carved-in-stone face—sat stoically, but gripped the hand of the younger woman. Son’s wife, Eve thought, blond, blue eyes, what anyone with eyes of their own would call a stunner.
At the moment, she did the talking.
“You’re so kind. Please, tea for my mother, and for me. My husband would have coffee, with just a little cream. My father will have black coffee. Thank you.”
Eve walked to the table, stood as all eyes shifted to her. “I’m Lieutenant Dallas. We’re sorry for your loss. We know this is a very difficult time for all of you, and appreciate you coming in to speak with us.”
“Will you find him?” Anna Maria Modesto demanded through her sobs. “Will you find the monster who did this to my baby?”
“My partner and I, and the New York City Police and Security Department, will do everything we can to find the person who took your daughter’s life. Coming in to speak with us will help us in our investigation.”
“Angelo, our little Angelo, he has no mother now.”
“He has you.” Stefano pressed his lips to his mother’s temple. “He has Tereza. No one can replace Galla, but we’ll all look out for Angelo.”
“You have a reputation.” Antonio arrowed his dark eyes on Eve. He had a commanding voice. His precise and perfect English carried only a trace of accent. “This reputation says to me you will do all necessary to find the one who took Galla from us, from her child, from her husband. From the world. But how? He kills her in a moment, then is gone.”
“We’re following every lead, Mr. Modesto. Do you know of anyone who’d wish to hurt your daughter?”
“No, no!” He slapped his free hand on the table forcefully enough to make the cups of tea and coffee jump. “This was a moment, do you understand? He doesn’t know her, he simply lashes out because she was there. She does no harm to any. My daughter was loving and kind. She was a good wife, a good mother. This one, he kills her without thought.”
Eve considered. If she wanted their help, she needed to give them a reason. “We believe there was thought. We believe your daughter, your sister, was specifically targeted.”
“Why?” Stefano’s incredulous question rang out. “My father is right. Galla was kind. She was a good person, and I can think of no one who would wish her harm. We would tell you, without hesitation, if we did.”
“I believe you. Did you know your sister had an affair?”
Again, Antonio slapped a hand on the table, and his face went furiously red. “You would say such a thing?”
“Mr. Modesto, this is a fact that has come to light in the course of our investigation.” Even as she spoke, Eve’s gaze remained on Tereza’s face. “You knew.”
“I …”
“The truth. You want justice for your sister-in-law? You cared for her? The truth is the weapon needed to defend her now.”
Tereza closed her eyes, then pressed her hands to her face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She looked at her husband, tears spilling as she spoke in Italian.
That opened the floodgates to the entire family speaking at once, again in Italian.
“English, please!” Eve held up a hand. “We need to hear what she has to say. You knew,” Eve repeated. “Galla told you.”
“Yes. I’m sorry. Yes. She was unhappy. Please, you have to understand.”
“I’m not here to judge her, but to stand for her. Tell me.”
6
“I came to New York, some business, some shopping, a visit for my children and Angelo. We were close, Galla and I. We were sisters. Our children enjoy each other.”