The Lost - J. D. Robb [14]
“Concluding the sample came out of a live human, and came out of said human between one and two this afternoon.”
“What I said. A Neg, human blood, healthy platelets, cholesterol, no STD. We filtered out trace portions of other body fluid and flesh. Double X chromosomes.”
“Female.”
“You bet. We’ll keep separating other body fluids when we have the larger samples, and the sweepers tell me they’ve got some hair in there. We’ll be able to tell you pretty much everything. Fluids, flesh and hair.” He grinned widely. “I could freaking rebuild her with samples like that.”
“Nice thought. DNA.”
“I’m running it through. Takes some time, and there’s no guarantee she’s on the grid. Might get a relative. I programmed for full match and blood relations.”
Thorough, Eve thought. When Dickhead got his weird little teeth into something, he was thorough. “There were fibers.”
“Like I said, we’ll separate and filter. I’ll give hair and fiber to Harpo. She’s the queen. But I can’t pull the vic’s ID out of my ass. She’s either on the grid or—Hey!” He swiveled, scooted as the far comp beeped. “Son of a bitch, we got a match. I am so freaking good.”
Eve came around the counter to study the ID photo and data herself. “Copy to my unit,” she ordered. “And I want a printout. Dana Buckley, age forty-one, born in Sioux City, why are you dead?”
“Nice-looking skirt,” Berenski commented, and Eve ignored him.
Blue-eyed blonde, she thought, pale skin, pretty in a corn-fed sort of way. Five-six, a hundred thirty-eight, parents deceased, no sibs, no offspring, no marriage or cohab on record. “Current employment, freelance consultant. What does this personal data tell us smart investigators, Detective?”
“That the deceased has no family ties, no employer to verify identification or give further data on said deceased. Which makes a smart investigator go hmmm.”
“It does indeed. She lists a home and office address here in New York. Park Avenue. Peabody, run this down.”
“It’s the Waldorf,” Roarke said from behind her.
“As in Astoria?” Eve glanced back, caught his nod, and the look in his eyes when they met hers.
She thought, Crap, but said nothing. Not yet.
“Check and see if they have her registered,” she told Peabody. “And get a copy of the ID print, show it to the desk staff to see if they make her. Quick work, Berenski.”
“After quick work, I like to relax with a good bottle or two of wine.”
She took the printout and walked away without a second glance.
“Worth the shot,” Berenski said at her back.
“There’s nobody by the name of Dana Buckley registered at the Waldorf,” Peabody told her as she caught up to Eve. “No make from the desk staff. This new data rates a second hmmm.”
“Go back to Central, do a full run on her. You can start on the security discs. Send copies to my home unit. I’m going to swing by, reinterview Carolee, show her the printout. Maybe she’ll remember seeing the vic.”
“We were lucky to get a DNA match that fast. I’ll tag you if I dig up anything on her.” She sent a quick smile to Roarke. “See you later.”
Eve waited until she and Roarke were in her vehicle, with her taking the wheel. “You knew her.”
“Not really. Of her, certainly. It’s complicated.”
“Is there any way you could be connected to this?”
“No. That is, I have no connection to her.”
Eve felt the knot in her stomach begin to loosen. “How do you know her, or of her?”
“I first heard of her some years ago. We were working on a prototype for some—at the time—new holo technology. It was very nearly stolen, or would have been if we hadn’t implemented multiple layers of security. As it was, she got through several before the red flag.”
“Corporate and/or technological espionage.”
“Yes. I didn’t know her as Dana Buckley, but as Cath erine Delauter. I expect you’ll find any number of IDs before you’re done.”
“Who does she work for?”
He lifted a shoulder in a dismissive if elegant shrug. “The highest bidder. She thought I might be interested in her services, and arranged to meet me. That’s seven or eight years ago.”