Page 63 of Random in Death

“One question, just one at this time on this investigation, and I block you for a month. I’m fucking serious.”

“I get that. I just want anything I can tell Jake. Off the record, whatever you need. Just anything I can tell him.”

“There’s nothing, Nadine.” She held the look. “Nothing, and even the nothing’s off the record, that ties the two victims together except method.”

Nadine nodded. “Understood. Thank you. Should we wait for Jamie?”

“He’s with McNab and Peabody. They’ve got him.”

“We’ll take Quilla back. If you need any research, need anything—it stays off the record.”

“I’ll let you know. Roarke? With me.”

Ignoring cameras and questions aimed at her, Eve pushed her way through.

Roarke waited until they sat in the car. “You told her, without telling her, it’s random.”

“Ten minutes researching both victims, she’d know anyway. The difference is? She won’t go on air with it, not until tomorrow. Not until after the notification.

“Let’s go get this done.”

Chapter Nine

“Tisha Dillon.” Eve looked deeper into the victim’s mother as Roarke drove uptown. “Age thirty-nine. Pretty young when her daughter was born. No marriages, no cohabs. Started as a seamstress in the Garment District, worked in alterations at a high-end boutique, then started her own business about fourteen years ago.

“Does okay,” Eve noted. “Employs one part-time seamstress—and that’s her mother.”

She set the run aside.

“He chose two crowded events geared to a younger crowd. One indoors, one out. There’s nothing, at this point, that connects the two victims, other than him. It’s not impossible he knew both of them, but I don’t have to do a probability to know it would hit low. Lower yet that they knew him.”

She closed her eyes. “Okay, okay. Music event. Same age group. Both mixed-race females, but different builds, different coloring, different interests. One uptown, one down. And for a lot of people that’s like living on different planets.

“First vic, private school, second, public school. And that’s different planets. First vic, no serious romantic or sexual relationships. Second dated regularly and had a serious boyfriend of a few months. She was either sexually active or about to be.”

“You’re hoping for common ground.”

“And not finding it, not beyond the surface. If it’s not who they are, it’s what. I can’t find a what beyond their age group, gender, and being pretty.”

As he hit a red light, he glanced over. “Maybe that’s all he needs.”

“And that makes it a nightmare. Because he plans, Roarke. He plans. The mix of drugs, the delivery system, selecting the kill spot, the timing. But his victims are chosen on the spot? No real stalking time, no particular research? He could’ve known both were attending an event—that’s possible. Finding Jenna in the club, not hard. Just hang out awhile, wander awhile, hit the dance floor. But finding Arlie in a crowd of a couple thousand? I don’t buy that one. Not her specifically, not beyond finding a pretty teenage girl.”

“And that makes it a nightmare,” Roarke repeated. “As what would be two successes in his mind means he’s got no reason to stop, does he?”

“More. Two successes on consecutive nights. No cooling-off time, no downtime, no sitting around whacking off on it. Just back to it.”

Roarke found street parking on Third, which made her wonder why he always seemed to have better luck there than she did.

It probably connected to the fact he was a gazillionaire, and she wasn’t.

She got out, walked the half a block with him while she studied the building they approached.

Midsize, post-Urban, a mix of residential and commercial. Standard buzz-in security, which was, she thought, useless.

Rather than buzz in, she mastered into a small, more than reasonably clean lobby with a pair of elevators.

She gave them a dubious study.

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