The Unquiet

They’d see a vid now and then, but primarily they worked—saved their money toward finding a place to live—concentrated on the program, studied. Or Jen did. She was taking a business class.”
    “You gave them permission to live in the building?”
    “Yes. Justin asked me, and we thought it would give them a breather, allow them to live on their own, save, stay close to the Center. The stipulation was they had to keep the place, and themselves, clean. They did.”
    “You visited them there?”
    “Either Justin or I would drop by once a week. Spot-check,” she said with the first hint of a smile. “We trusted them. But you can’t trust the addiction.”
    “Arianna!”
    The sharp call sliced through the quiet garden. A man, tall, his dark hair cropped close to a tanned face, hurried toward them. His eyes, a green as sharp as his voice, were all for Arianna. Ignoring Eve and Peabody, he grabbed her hands, got to his knees.
    “I heard what happened. What can I do for you?”
    “Eton.” Tears shimmered in her eyes. Eve saw her bear down against them. “I was going to tell you myself, but I needed to speak with the police. Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody, my associate, Eton Billingsly.”
    “The police.” He shot Eve a disgusted look. “At a time like this?”
    “Murder usually brings the cops.”
    “It’s hardly necessary to interrogate Arianna at all, and particularly before she’s had time to process.”
    “Okay. Let’s interrogate you. Where were you between one and four a.m. this morning?”
    He blustered. Eve couldn’t think of another word for the sounds he made or the look on his face as he sprang to his feet. “I’m not answering any of your insulting questions, and neither is Arianna.”
    “Oh yeah, you are,” Eve corrected, “here or at Cop Central. Your choice.”
    “Eton.” Arianna rose. “Stop now. You’re upset. The police are trying to find out who hurt Jen and the boys, and why.”
    “They’ll hardly find out here, with you.” He took her hands again. “Justin should never have allowed it.”
    “Justin doesn’t allow anything.” Gently, but deliberately, Arianna drew her hands away.
    “You’re right, of course. But it’s natural to want to shield you from this kind of ordeal. I know how much you’d invested in these recoverings.”
    “I haven’t heard an answer yet, Mr. Billingsly.”
    “ Dr. Billingsly,” he snapped at Eve. “And at that time of the morning, I was home in bed.”
    “Alone?”
    “Yes.”
    “What was your relationship with the victims?”
    Perhaps due to the fact that his face went red, Arianna answered for him. “Eton is one of our psychologists. He specializes in hypnotherapy. The process can help them through withdrawal, give them focus, and can often help them bring the root of their addiction to the surface.”
    “So, did you do the ‘you’re getting sleepy’ with the victims?” Eve asked him.
    “Yes.”
    “And?”
    “As Arianna can tell you, they were making excellent, even exceptional, progress.”
    “When’s the last time you had contact with them—each of them?”
    “I’d have to check my book. I can hardly remember off the top of my head.”
    “Do that. Did you ever visit the building where they were living?”
    His lips thinned. “No. Why would I? Instead of wasting time here, you should be out on the street, looking for the maniacs who did this. It’s obviously the result of violent addicts, people they associated with before they began the program.”
    “Nothing’s obvious at this point. You’ve been very helpful,” she said to Arianna.
    “Can you let us know when . . . Justin and I would like to arrange a memorial. We’d like to arrange for their remains.”
    “Arianna,” Billingsly began.
    “Eton, please. It’s little enough.”
    “I’m required to inform the next of kin,” Eve told her. “I’ll be in touch once I have. You have transcripts of your sessions with them. They could help me. Doctor-patient privilege doesn’t apply when the patients are dead.”
    “I’ll have them sent to you this afternoon. I’ll show you the way out.”
    “We’ve got it, thanks.”
    As they walked away, Eve glanced back. Eton had her hands again, his head bent toward hers as he talked rapidly.
    “Asshole,” was Peabody’s opinion.
    “Big, flaming asshole with a big, flaming temper. Looks like he keeps in good shape. Bet he puts in plenty of gym time. And he wants Arianna Whitwood for his