Remember When

breath. "I bet she wins, doesn't she? I bet she almost always wins."
    "She won't give up. That comes to the same thing."
    ***
    Eve sat at her desk, input the data from the Cobb case into a sub file, then updated her files on the Jacobs homicide.
    "Computer, analyze data on two current case files and run probability. What is the probability that Andrea Jacobs and Tina Cobb were killed by the same person?"
    Beginning analysis...
    She pushed away from the desk as the computer worked and walked to her skinny window. Sky traffic was relatively light. Tourists looked for cooler spots than stewing Manhattan, she imagined, this time of year. Office drones were busy in their hives. She saw a sky-tram stream by with more than half its seats empty.
    Tina Cobb had taken the bus. The sky-tram would've been faster, but that convenience cost.
    Tina'd been careful with her money then. Saving for a life she'd never have.
    Analysis and probability run complete. Probability that Andrea Jacobs and Tina Cobb were murdered by the same person or persons is seventy-eight point eight.
    High enough, Eve thought, given the computer's limitations. It would factor in the difference in victim types, the different methodology, geographic location of the murders.
    A computer couldn't see what she saw, or feel what she felt.
    She turned back as a beep signaled an incoming transmission. The sweepers had been quick, she noted, and sat to read the report.
    Fingerprints were Gannon's, Jacobs's, Cobb's. There were no other prints found anywhere in the house. Hair samples found matched Gannon's and the victim's. Eve imagined they'd find some that matched Cobb's.
    He'd sealed up, and that wasn't a surprise to her. He'd sealed his hands, his hair. Whether or not he'd planned to kill, he'd planned to leave no trace of himself behind.
    If Jacobs hadn't come in, he might have gone through the entire house without leaving a thing out of place. And Samantha would've been none the wiser.
    She contacted Maid In New York to check a few details and was adding them to her notes when Peabody came in.
    "Gannon had her quarterly clean about four weeks ago," Eve said. "Do you know, the crew's required to wear gloves and hair protectors? Safety goggles, protective jumpsuit. The works. Like a damn sweeper's team. They all but sterilize the damn place, top to bottom."
    "I think, maybe, McNab and I could afford something like that. Once we're in the new apartment, it'd be worth it to have somebody sterilize the place three or four times a year. We can get pretty messy when we're both pumping it on the job-and you know, doing each other."
    "Shut up. Just shut up. You're trying to make me twitch."
    "I haven't mentioned sex and McNab all day. It was time."
    "The point I was making before you stuck the image of you and McNab doing each other in my head, is Gannon's place was polished up bright a few weeks ago and maintained thereafter. There are no prints other than hers, the maid's, Jacobs's. He sealed up before he went in. He's very careful. Meticulous even. But, unless this was a direct hit on Jacobs, he still missed the house-sitter angle. What does that tell you?"
    "He probably doesn't know either the vic or Gannon, not personally. Not enough to be privy to personal arrangements like that. He knew Gannon would be out of town. Could've gotten that from the maid, or from following her media schedule. But he couldn't have gotten the house-sitter angle from the maid or the service because they didn't know."
    "He's not inner circle. So we start going outside that circle. And we look for where else Cobb and Gannon and Jacobs connect."
    "Baxter and Trueheart are back. We've got conference room three."
    "Round them up."
    ***
    She set up a board in the conference room, pinning up crime-scene photos, victim photos, copies of scene reports and the timeline for the Jacobs murder she'd worked up.
    She waited while Baxter did the same for his case, and considered, as she programmed a cup of lousy station house coffee, how to handle the meeting.
    Tact might not be her middle name, but she didn't like to step on another cop's toes. Cobb was Baxter's case. Outranking him didn't, in her mind, give her the right to tug it away from him.
    She leaned a hip on the conference table as a compromise between standing-taking over-and sitting. "You get anything more out of your vic's sister?"
    Baxter shook his head. "Took some time to talk her out of going down to the morgue. No point in her seeing