In Death 16 - Portrait in Death

Rachel."
     
     
"Oh, what a pretty girl," Angie said. "What a nice smile. So young and fresh."
     
     
"Could you give me your opinion on the image itself. Professionally."
     
     
"Oh." Leeanne took a deep breath, angled her head. "It's quite good, actually. An excellent use of light, and color. Nice angles. Clean and uncluttered. It shows the subject's youth and vitality, centers that so the eye is drawn, as Angie's was, to the smile, to how fresh she is. Is that what you mean?"
     
     
"Yes. Could you set up a shot like that without the subject being aware?"
     
     
"Of course, if you have good instincts." She lowered the image. "Did the killer take this?"
     
     
"Possibly."
     
     
"She was murdered?" Angie wrapped an arm around Leeanne. "Oh, this is awful. How could anyone hurt a young, sweet girl like that?"
     
     
"Sweet?" Eve echoed.
     
     
"Just look at her face-look at her eyes." Angie shook her head. "You can tell. You can look at her face and see the innocence."
     
     
As they rode back down in the elevator, Eve brought the images of Rachel into her head. As she'd been, and as he'd left her. "Maybe that's what he wanted," she murmured. "Her innocence."
     
     
"He didn't rape her."
     
     
"It wasn't sexual. It was... spiritual. Her light was pure," she remembered. "It might mean her soul. Isn't there some deal, some superstition about the camera stealing the soul?"
     
     
"I've heard that. Where are we headed now, Lieutenant?" Peabody asked.
     
     
"We're going to college."
     
     
"Icy. A lot of college guys are totally hot." She hunched her shoulders when Eve sent her a bland stare. "Just because McNab and I are in a committed, mature relationship-"
     
     
"I don't want to hear about your committed, mature anything with McNab. It gives me the creeps."
     
     
"Just because," Peabody continued, undaunted as they crossed the lobby, "doesn't mean I can't look at other guys. Any woman with eyes looks at other guys. Okay, maybe you don't because, hey, what would be the point?"
     
     
"Perhaps I should point out that we're investigating a homicide, not going off on a man-ogling spree."
     
     
"I like to multitask whenever possible. Speaking of which, maybe we could get some actual food. That way, we could investigate, feed the body, and ogle."
     
     
"There will be no ogling. Henceforth, ogling is forbidden at any and all junctures of active investigations."
     
     
Peabody pursed her lips. "You're really mean today."
     
     
"Yes. Yes, I am." Eve took a deep gulp of hideous air, and smiled. "I feel good about that."
     
     
***
     
     
The announcement of sudden, violent death drew many reactions. Tears were just one of them. By the time Eve had spoken to a half dozen of Rachel's friends and instructors at Columbia, she thought she might wash away on the sea of tears.
     
     
She sat on the side of a bed in a dorm room. The space was tight, she thought. A closet jammed with two beds, two desks, two dressers. Every flat surface was covered with what Eve thought of as mysterious girl stuff. The walls were plastered with posters and drawings, the desks with disc boxes and girl toys. The bedspreads were candy pink, the walls mint green. In fact, the whole place smelled like candy somehow and made her stomach rumble.
     
     
She should've taken Peabody's advice on the food.
     
     
Two girls sat directly across from her, locked in each other's arms like lovers as they wept, copiously.
     
     
"It can't be true. It can't be true."
     
     
She couldn't tell which one of them was wailing the words, but she did note that the longer they howled, the more dramatic their grief. She began to think they were enjoying it.
     
     
"I know this is hard, but I have to ask you some questions."
     
     
"I can't. I just can't!"
     
     
Eve pressed the bridge of her nose to relieve some of the pressure. "Peabody, see if there's something to drink in the fridge over there."
     
     
Obediently, Peabody crouched down in front of the mini-coldbox and found several tubes of Diet Coke. She opened two, brought them over. "Here you go. Take a drink, and some deep breaths. If you want to help Rachel, you have to talk to the lieutenant. Rachel would do that for you, wouldn't she?"
     
     
"She would." The little blonde didn't cry well. Her face was blotchy, her nose runny. She slurped at the soft drink. "Rach would do anything for a friend."
     
     
The brunette, Randa, was still blubbering, but she had the presence of mind to