The In Death Collection Books 16-20 - J. D. Robb [126]
“Called me her big, bad brother.” Another tear slid down his cheek. “She was the best thing in my life.”
“Then you help me help her. I want names of people she knew. People she worked with, played with. Did she have a boyfriend, anyone special?”
“No. She’d’ve told me. She liked boys all right, wasn’t any prissy thing, but she studied hard, worked all she could at the health center. She’d go out with friends, let off steam. Not in my place,” he said with what passed for a smile. “Didn’t want her in my place.”
“Other clubs, though. Did she mention any specifically? Did she ever mention spending time at a place called Make The Scene?”
“Data place, sure. Lots of the college crowd go there. And she liked this little joint near the health center. Coffee bar called Zing.”
“Crack, did she have her picture taken, professionally, any time recently. For any reason. Work maybe, or something at school. Maybe at a wedding or a party.”
“For my birthday last month. She asked what I wanted, and I said I wanted a picture of her, in a gold frame. Not just one of those snap-it-yourself jobs, but a real portrait where she was all dressed up fine, and the photographer knew what he was up to.”
She kept her voice cool as she noted it down. “Do you know where she had the portrait done?”
“Someplace called Portography, uptown. Classy. I—” He broke off as his brain started to work through the grief. “I’ve been hearing this on the news. This is that son of a bitch who’s killing college kids. Taking their picture and killing them. He killed my baby.”
“Yes, he did. I’m going to find him, Crack. I’m going to stop him and see he’s put in a cage. If I think you’re going to get in my way on this, I’ll have you put in one until I do.”
“You can try.”
“I won’t just try,” she said evenly. “You know me, and you know I’ll stand for her now, no matter what it takes. Even if it means locking you away until I do what’s right for her. She’s mine now, too. Mine as much as yours.”
He tried to hold back the tears. “Any other cop said that to me, I wouldn’t believe it. Any other cop said that to me, I’d say whatever I needed to say to shake him loose so I could do what I wanted to do. But you’re not any other cop, white girl. You take care of my baby sister. You’re the only one I’d give her to.”
“What can I do?” Roarke asked her when they stood at her car outside the morgue.
“You got any pull at the East Side Health Center?”
“Money, Lieutenant, always has pull.”
“Here’s what I’m thinking. Maybe he tagged her from the files at Portography. That’s a link. Maybe he tagged her from the data club. It pops every time. But, if he’s sick, and I think he’s sick, she might have recognized him from the health center. If he uses it, or has used it, the staff might not notice him hanging around. If he took her out there, it was because people are used to seeing him, or recognized his face and didn’t think anything of it. I’ve got Louise asking around, but she’s going at it from the doctor angle—no names, patient privacy, and blah blah.”
“And you’d like someone who isn’t so particular about privacy.”
“Three dead kids. Yeah. I don’t give a flying fuck about privacy. Grease whatever palms you need to grease and see if you can find me somebody—male, twenty-five to sixty—no, forty. He’s younger. That age span, with a serious, perhaps fatal neurological condition. Get me a name.”
“Done. What else?”
“Isn’t that enough for you?”
“No, I’d like to keep busy right now.”
“Summerset—”
“I’ve spoken to him via ’link. What else?”
“You could use that twisty brain and those clever fingers to dig me up all you can on Javert. Any combination with Henri or Luis. Anything that pops around the dump sites, the data club, the colleges, Portography and the suspect names I’m going to give you that I shouldn’t be giving you.”
“Smells like drone work.”
She smiled. “So?”
“Happy to be of assistance,