Page 140 of Obsession in Death

DeWinter glanced at the bones on her table. Sighed. “Let me have that.”

She took the sketch, angled it toward the light. “It’s a composition, so it’s complete speculation. I can say, easily, she needs a better hair color and style.”

“Don’t care.”

“Everyone should and it would be a more attractive world.” She looked over the sketch at Eve. “This would be your UNSUB.”

“It would.”

“If this is accurate—the bone structure, the shape of the face, the mouth? Mixed race, but I find myself influenced by the tone of her skin. If I had her skull on the table—”

“I’ll try to arrange that.”

“I wouldn’t blame you,” DeWinter countered, frowning at the sketch. “I wouldn’t be surprised to find Greek in the heritage. Possibly Turkish descent, but not recent. Diluted, as so many of us are, Western Europe—some Anglo-Saxon blood. Her body appears well proportioned. And all of that’s guesswork—most probable conclusions, based on a sketch.”

“I’ll take it. Keep that. Give it a glance now and then, and show it to your people. She’s going to be ordinary, someone who disappears into the scenery. But smart, bright, good at the work, whatever the work is. She has solid e-skills, patience. She’s obsessive, organized.”

“You’ve just described about half the people in this facility.”

So Eve went with the gut. “She probably doesn’t have friends. Even her coworkers don’t think of her when it’s time to go out, have a drink. She’s single, no romantic relationship. She knows my cases inside and out.”

“That narrows it a bit more. There’s a nice camaraderie here. It’s often ugly work we do, so that camaraderie makes it bearable.”

DeWinter studied the sketch again. “I can’t think of anyone, but I will think more. Is it true Nadine was attacked last night?”

“An attempt on her. She’s fine.” And thanks to whatever soother Summerset had talked her into, Nadine had still been out when Eve left the house.

“I don’t know her well, but I like her. I’m glad she’s all right.”

“She’s covered. Anything pops, anyone comes to mind, however out of orbit, I hear it. And... I don’t know you, really, but we’ve worked together. She’s going after people I know. You should watch yourself.”

“Well, that’s... harrowing.”

“You’re low on the list. You just haven’t been here long enough. But watch yourself anyway.”

“Happy New Year,” Peabody added as they started out.

“Thanks bunches.”

“Let’s hit Dawson,” Eve said, “then we’ll go by the morgue, run it through with Morris.” She checked the time as they walked. “That bar’s not going to be open for hours. We work the searches back at Central until. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

•••

Dawson had a desk twice the size of Eve’s. It occurred to her when she noted all the glass vials holding insects, bone fragments, soils, stones, and what might have been a decimated fish of some sort she’d never actually been in his office before.

Names, locations, tasks, techs, investigators—including her—covered his board. A wide shelf under a glow light held several odd-looking plants.

He raised his face from a scope, noted the direction of Eve’s glance. “Carnivorous plants. A hobby of mine.”

“You have meat-eating plants in your office?”

“Frrrosty,” was Peabody’s take as she moved closer to study them.

“Can’t have them at home. My wife laid down the law on it. It’s not like they eat people.” He smiled broadly. “Yet. I’m playing around with a hybrid.”

“I’ll remember that should I have to arrest you for aiding and abetting homicidal vegetation. Recognize her?”

She handed him the sketch.

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