The In Death Collection Books 6-10 - J. D. Robb [170]
“I thought we were friends.”
“I guess we are, and because of that when I’ve got something to give, you’ll get it.”
Nadine’s eyes brightened. “First, exclusive?”
“Don’t keep tying up my ’link.”
“A one-on-one, Dallas. Let me set it up. I can be at Cop Central by one.”
“No. I’ll let you know when and where, but I don’t have time for you today.” And time, Eve thought, was the biggest factor. No one she knew researched as fast or as deep as Nadine Furst. “You’re not seeing anybody in particular these days, are you, Nadine?”
“Seeing anyone—as in dating or sleeping with? No, not in particular.”
“Ever try one of those dating services?”
“Please.” Nadine’s eyelashes fluttered as she lifted her hand to examine her manicure. “I think I can find my own men.”
“Just a thought. I hear they’re popular.” Eve paused and watched Nadine’s eyes narrow and glitter. “You might want to give it a try.”
“Yeah, I might do that. Thanks. Gotta run. I’m on in five.”
“One thing. Do I have to buy you a Christmas present?”
Nadine’s brows went up, her lips curved in a wide smile. “Absolutely.”
“Damn, I was afraid of that.” Frowning, Eve broke transmission and steered into the garage at Cop Central.
On the way to Whitney’s office, she snagged an energy bar and a tube of Extra-Zing Coke from a vending machine. She wolfed down the bar, chugged the soft drink, and as a result stepped into Whitney’s office feeling slightly ill.
“Status, Lieutenant?”
“I have McNab from EDD working with my aide at my home office, Commander. We have the lists from Personally Yours for each victim. We’re hoping to get a match. We’re still working on the jewelry he left with the victims, and have the brand and projected source for the enhancements he used.”
He nodded. Whitney was a powerfully built man with a smooth, dark complexion and tired eyes. Through the window at his back, Eve could see the city—the constant flow of air traffic around the spears of buildings; people moving around offices behind other windows. She knew if you stepped up to that window, you could look down and see the street below. All the people rushing to or away. All the lives that needed protecting.
As always she thought she preferred her cramped office and limited view.
“Do you know how many tourists and out-of-state consumers come into the city in the weeks before Christmas?”
“No, sir.”
“The mayor gave me the estimated number this morning when he called to inform me the city couldn’t afford a serial killer scaring away holiday dollars.” His smile was thin and humorless. “He didn’t seem, at that point, to be overly concerned with residents of the city being raped and strangled, but with the distressing side effects such events could cause if the media plays the Santa killer angle.”
“The media isn’t aware of that angle at this time.”
“How long before it leaks?” Whitney leaned back, kept his eyes level and on Eve’s.
“Maybe a couple of days. Channel 75 has already been tipped that they’re sexual homicides, but their data is patchy at this point.”
“Let’s see if we can keep it that way. How long before he hits again?”
“Tonight. Tomorrow at the latest.” No way to stop it, she thought, and saw by Whitney’s face he understood.
“The dating service is the only connection you’ve got.”
“Yes, sir. At this time. There’s no indication that the victims knew each other. They lived in different parts of the city, moved in widely different circles. They weren’t of a type, physically.”
She paused, waiting, but Whitney said nothing. “I’m going to consult with Mira,” Eve continued. “But in my opinion he’s already established a pattern and a goal. He wants twelve on or before the end of the year. That’s less than two weeks, so he has to move quickly.”
“So do you.”
“Yes, sir. The source of his victims has to be Personally Yours. We’ve tagged the cosmetics used on the victims. Sources of purchase for them in the city are fairly limited. We have the pins he left at both