Page 59 of Random in Death

“That one there. Officer Casey’s with them.”

“Thanks.”

She’d barely gone another three feet before she heard the weeping.

“Shit.”

“I can take them, Dallas.”

“No, no, just do what you do to try to settle it down.”

She pushed aside the tent flap.

One boy, two girls sat close together on a ragged-looking sofa. A folding table on the side held mostly decimated platters of food—little sandwiches, fruit, cheese, some raw veg. Soft drinks and water poked out of ice melting in a tub.

A circulating fan did very little to dispel the heat.

Eve showed the uniform her badge. “We’ll take this now, Officer.”

“Yes, sir. Nikki?” The uniform put her hand on the weeping girl’s shoulder. “You’ve got my card if you need to talk. That goes for you, too, Moses, and you, Dawn. Lieutenant, if I could have just one minute outside?”

Eve stepped out again.

“Sir, Nikki—Nikki Lieberman—has known the victim the longest, and she’s the one who attempted CPR, told Dawn, her girlfriend, to call nine-one-one when she saw the wound. They’re all very shaken, but it’s hit her the hardest at this time. She’s planning to go to medical school, or has planned, and now feels she’s already failed. I thought it might help for you to know.”

“What division are you in, Casey?”

“The one-five-three. Sir, if I overstepped—”

“You didn’t. You stepped just right. Locate civilian consultant Roarke. You can assist him by doing preliminary interviews of the vid crew while he reviews their footage.”

“Yes, sir. Right away.”

Eve stepped back in where Peabody crouched in front of Nikki and held both her hands.

The boy had wept, too, Eve noted. A good-looking kid, Caucasian, his white-blond hair worn in a skullcap. While red rimmed his light blue eyes, they now looked shell-shocked more than tearful.

The girl on the other side of the weeper had a tear spilling out fresh, had her arm around Nikki. She had dark skin over sharp bones and her glossy black hair in long dreads.

Nikki’s hair hit somewhere between maroon and Quilla’s current purple, and she wore it nearly as short as the boy beside her.

Her eyes, miserably swollen, tipped up at the corners. Her face, blotchy from crying, made Eve think of Leonardo’s burnished copper.

“I’m Lieutenant Dallas,” she began, and Nikki pressed her face into the other girl’s shoulder.

“Oh God, it’s really happening.”

“Nikki.” Eve tried to get somewhere in the vicinity of Peabody’s I-feel-for-you tone. “This is hard, I know. We’re sorry for your loss, but we need your help.”

“I tried to help her. I didn’t.”

“I’m going to tell you differently. You recognized she needed medical attention and directed Dawn to call for it. You attempted CPR.”

“I must have done it wrong.”

“You didn’t, and a doctor wasn’t able to revive her. The MTs weren’t able. All of you did what you could. Someone injected her, and that injection was lethal and fast-acting. But you did all you could, and because of that we’re here quickly.”

“Why would somebody stick a needle in her?” Dawn demanded. “She didn’t use. Maybe I’ve only really known her a couple months, but I know she didn’t use. I know what it looks like. My uncle’s been in rehab three times. I know what it looks like when somebody’s using.”

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