Page 35 of Random in Death

To add to the symptoms? The speed of reaching the goal? Pain, dizziness, confusion, possibly hallucinations, potentially a seizure. And death within minutes.

He’d wanted all of that.

She turned as she heard Peabody coming.

“She vomited up—DNA confirmed—a lethal mix of drugs, heavy on the heroin—not Junk, the pure stuff. He added ketamine—again, not street-level Kettle. Traces of potassium chloride—the last step in lethal injections back in the day. He added a roofie.”

“A roofie?”

“There has to be a reason for it. He wasn’t going to rape her—she’d be dead.”

Peabody’s face showed a mixture of distress and disgust. “Unless he… ick, after she died?”

“I don’t see how. He’d already taken off, out the window. And he couldn’t know she’d go outside, couldn’t know where she’d die. But there’s a reason for it.

“She wasn’t sexually active, so maybe she blew him off there. Maybe she didn’t see him.” Eve closed her eyes, took herself back to the club. “Maybe the ‘asshole’ comment was just knee-jerk. But damn it, it’s all fast. It seems like she’d have caught a glimpse.”

“Maybe, with the lights, the crowd, she didn’t catch a good one.”

“Yeah. We’ll set up in the lounge again. The vic’s friends are coming, each with a parent, for a follow-up.”

“The victim’s mother’s going to contact us when they’re ready. They want us to go through her room when they’re not there. So when Morris is ready for them to come in.”

“That works. Go ahead and check with McNab, see if he’s getting anywhere.”

She sat again, added the notes from her follow-up with Jake to her book.

And studied the timing again.

Yes, crowded floor, dim, atmospheric lights. But he had to get right next to her to use the needle. The jab hurt, she turned toward the direction of the hurt.

How could she not have seen him?

She imagined herself the killer.

Move in, palm the syringe in your hand.

Am I excited, nervous, angry, detached?

Depends. If it’s just an experiment, detached would work.

But if it’s the finish line? Excited seemed more likely.

She’s dancing, turned away, bouncing with her friends.

Shove the needle into her arm, hit the plunger, pull it out.

It takes a couple seconds when you’re not worried about the niceties.

Sitting, she mimed the act.

Pressure syringe would’ve been faster. But the needle hurts more. That’s a choice, that’s intent.

Two seconds to inject? Three, maybe four before the syringe is back in your pocket.

How long did it take her to turn?

Ow. Jolt, pull back from your friends, slap a hand on the sting. Just seconds, a few seconds. Turn around.

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