The in Death Collection Books 11-15 - J. D. Robb [226]
She was, Roarke thought, so much like Eve in this area he was surprised the two of them had yet to come to blows.
Ambition, skill, and tenacity were pushing her steadily up the ranks. And interestingly, he noted, she had requested and campaigned for her current assignment.
On a personal level, she’d had four lovers, all at different times, all male. The first had been in high school. The second her third year of college. She’d spaced them out meticulously, with only one relationship, during her first year in training, lasting more than six months.
She had a close circle of friends, liked to paint in her spare time, and had no reprimands or cautions on file.
He ran a search on her cases as well, then began to skim through Jacoby’s.
An hour later, he broke for coffee, noted his incoming data light blinking. The lieutenant, he thought, had transmitted her visual. He nearly postponed Stowe’s case files, just for a change of pace, but even as he began to issue the command to save and close, something caught his eye.
Not one of her cases, but a request to review, a request made nearly six months before she’d been assigned to the Yost investigation.
Just why, he wondered, had Special Agent Karen Stowe wanted to read and study the details of a murder in Paris? Yost was the prime suspect, but nothing had been proven. No motive established for the rape and strangulation of one Winifred C. Cates, age twenty-six, employed as a speech writer and special assistant to the American ambassador in Paris. It was the method, not the motive, nor any ties to the victim that had popped Yost’s name onto the top of the suspect list.
“Maybe you weren’t looking so hard at him then,” Roarke murmured. “But at the victim. Computer, search for personal data on victim, Cates, Winifred C.”
WORKING . . .
He sipped his coffee, listened to the machine hum.
CATES, WINIFRED CAROLE, FEMALE, MIXED RACE, DOB FEBRUARY 5, 2029, SAVANNAH, GEORGIA. PARENTS MARLO BARRONS AND JOHN CATES, DIVORCED. NO SIBLINGS. VISUAL ON-SCREEN. IS PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION DESIRED?
“No, move on.”
AFFIRMATIVE. EDUCATIONAL BACKGROUND AS FOLLOWS. ELEMENTARY EDUCATION: HOME STUDY PROGRAM. FULL SCHOLARSHIP TO MOSS-RILEY SECONDARY EDUCATION FACILITY, HONORS PROGRAM IN LANGUAGE AND IN POLITICAL SCIENCE. FULL SCHOLARSHIP TO AMERICAN UNIVERSITY—
“Hold. Cross-reference files, Cates and Stowe, educational data. Any and all matches on screen.”
WORKING . . . SHIFTING TASK FUNCTION . . . SUBJECTS CATES AND STOWE ATTENDED AMERICAN UNIVERSITY SAME DATES. CATES GRADUATED MAGNA CUM LAUDE, STOWE SIGMA CUM LAUDE, SAME GRADUATING CLASS. RANKED FIRST AND SECOND RESPECTIVELY.
“Hold. Knew her, didn’t you?” Roarke murmured. “This isn’t just a case. It’s personal.”
chapter fourteen
Peabody hustled off the glide, rounded the corner toward her squad room, and ran straight into McNab.
“There you are.” He beamed at her like a boy who’d just found his lost puppy after a long, whistling search.
“No, there you are. I was looking for you. I just got word the FBI’s going to hold a media conference. They’re pushing to have Dallas attend and fall into the spin.”
“Oh, yeah, that’ll happen. Have you heard the one about the Easter Bunny, too?” There was a door beside him. Never one to miss an opportunity, McNab bumped the handle.
“So far I haven’t heard if Whitney’s going to toss her in, but if he does, I think we should all be there. The one our guys had on for this afternoon’s on hold.”
As he nudged her into the narrow empty maintenance room he nodded. “Just tag me and let me know when and where if it comes down. Meanwhile . . .” He already had her up against the wall so he could chew on her neck.
“Jeez, McNab.” But she wasn’t putting up much of a struggle. “Get a grip.”
“Gonna.” With one hand he fumbled down, engaged the lock. With the other, he began disengaging the buttons on her uniform jacket. “Mmm, She-Body, you are so female. What’s a guy supposed to do?”
His teeth were nibbling their way down . . . over