In Death 25 - Creation in Death

pissed off.”
    “Who could blame you?”
    She started back to her office, stopped when Peabody hailed her. “Baxter and Trueheart are notifying the mother, as ordered. I just spoke with the father.”
    “All right. When Baxter reports in, we’ll clear it for her name to be released to the media.”
    “Speaking of the media, I poked into your office in case you were there. There’s about a half a million messages from various reporters.”
    “I’ll take care of it. Let me know when everyone’s in the house. We’ll do the briefing asap.”
    “Will do. Dallas, do you want me to update the boards?”
    “I’ve already done it.” She turned away to go to her office.
    She flicked through the source readout on the messages, transferring them to the liaison. Only when she came to one from Nadine did she pause, then order playback.
    “Dallas, the lines are buzzing you’ve got another one. It’s going to get ugly, so this is a heads up. The spit’s already flying and most of it’s going to splatter on you and the NYPSD. If you’ve got anything I can use, get back to me.”
    Eve considered, then ordered the callback. Nadine picked up on the first beep.
    “I thought media darlings slept till noon.”
    “Sure, just like cops. I’m already in my office,” Nadine told her. “Working on some copy. I’m going on at eight. Special report. If you’ve got anything, now’s the time to share.”
    “A source from the NYPSD stated this morning that new and salient information regarding the individual the media has dubbed The Groom has come to light.”
    “What new and salient information?”
    “However, the source would not divulge any details of this information due to the need to confine any and all such data within the investigation. It was also stated by the same source that the task force formed to pursue the investigation is working around the clock to identify and apprehend the individual responsible for the deaths of Sarifina York and Gia Rossi. As well as to seek justice for them and for the twenty-three other women whose deaths are attributed to this same individual.”
    “Nice, but there’s a lot of spin in there. The media’s going to come at you hard. You’re going to take hits.”
    “You really think I give a rat’s ass about a few publicity bruises right now, Nadine? Air the statement. What I want is for him to know we’re coming, and to worry about what we might have. Don’t release Rossi’s name until the eight o’clock airing.”
    “How about this? Will the NYPSD source confirm or deny that the investigation is focused on a specific suspect?”
    “The source won’t confirm or deny, but stated that members of the task force are seeking or have located and interviewed persons of interest.”
    “Okay.” Nadine nodded as she scribbled. “Still doesn’t really say anything, but it sounds like it says something.”
    “Do you still have your researchers on tap?”
    “Sure.”
    “I may have something for them to play with later. That’s it, Nadine. You want the official department statement, go to the liaison.”
    Eve clicked off, got coffee. Though it annoyed her, she used it to chase an energy pill. Better jumpy than sluggish, she decided, then called up the results from the global search she’d done from home.
    As the names began rolling on, she sat back, closed her eyes. Thousands, she thought. Well, what had she expected given the search elements she’d had Roarke input.
    So she had to narrow them, refine it.
    Her ’link beeped. “Yeah, yeah.”
    “Team’s in the house,” Peabody told her.
    “I’ll be there.”
     
    T ired cops, Eve thought when she stepped into the war room. Her team now consisted of tired, frustrated, and pissed off cops. Sometimes, she thought, cops did their best work that way. They’d be running on adrenaline and irritation—and in a lot of cases the boost of energy pills.
    No bullshit, she thought again. No evasions.
    “We lost her.” The room fell instantly silent. “We’ve got the full resources of the top police and security departments in the country behind us. We’ve got the experience, the brains, the bullheadedness of every cop in this room. But we lost her. You’ve got thirty seconds to brood about that, to feel crappy about it, to shoulder the guilt. Then that’s done.”
    She set down her file bag, walked over to get more coffee. When she came back, she took out the copy she’d made of Ariel Greenfeld’s photo, pinned it