Free Eternity in Death by J. D. Robb Page A

about here he attacked.”
    She scanned again, focused on a narrow building sagging between a Thai market and a boarded-up storefront. It was plastered with graffiti, and what looked like an old, torn CONDEMNED sign.
    Eve took out her communicator, requested backup at the location. Then drawing her weapon, she started toward the door. “You carrying anything besides half the wealth of the world in your pocket?”
    “Burglary tools, though this won’t require them.”
    She nodded, reached down, and took her clutch piece out of its ankle holster. “You’re deputized, ace.” She sucked in a breath, kicked in the door.
    She went in low and to the right while he took high and left in a routine they’d danced before. Sunlight dribbled through the broken windows, striking off shards of glass, filth, vermin droppings.
    And blood.
    Eve could smell it—not just the blood, but the death. That heavy human stench.
    Roarke took out a penlight, shone it on the trail of smeared red.
    He’d left her splayed on the floor, arms and legs spread out so her body formed a gruesome human X. Most of her clothes had been torn off, leaving only ragged remnants of black clinging to skin mottled with bruises.
    Her blood spread out in a pool from the puncture wounds in her throat. Her eyes hadn’t lost their horror with death, but stared at the ceiling in a fixed expression of abject terror.
    “Didn’t take her blood with him this time,” Eve said quietly. “Didn’t come prepared for that. But he made sure to hurt her plenty before he bled her out. Got off on her pain, got off on the power. See how he spread her out? Motherfucker.”
    Roarke touched a hand to Eve’s shoulder. “I’ll get your field kit.”
    She worked the scene; it’s what she did. What she had to do. She could follow the trail of blood, of smeared footprints, and see Allesseria being dragged inside.
    Kicking, Eve thought, her work shoes thudding hard against the broken concrete steps. Hard enough to cut through the cheap canvas before he’d hauled her inside.
    He’d punctured her throat immediately, only steps inside the door. There was spatter against the dirty wall where she’d gushed. Where she’d collapsed. Dragged her unconscious from there, she noted. Gave himself a little more room to work. To beat her with his fists, to rape her. All while the blood ran out of her.
    But he’d taken some, too. Ingested it, bottled it. She’d find out.
    “Time of death oh-three-thirty,” she said for the record. “Took her about an hour to die.” She sat back on her haunches. “A block and a half from home.”
    She looked over at Roarke. He stood, his hands in the pockets of his jacket. The morning air fluttered in the broken windows, stirred his dark hair. And lifted the smell of ugly death all around them.
    “He could’ve taken her in the club, anywhere in the underground. She might never have been found, and we’d never prove a thing if she’d been murdered down there.”
    “He wanted you to find her,” Roarke agreed. “He’s making a statement.”
    “Yeah, oh, yeah, because he didn’t have to do this. Even if she recants, he’d find ten others to back his alibi. Ten others he’d bribe or intimidate. He didn’t have to kill her, and certainly not like this.”
    “He enjoyed it.” Roarke shifted his gaze, met Eve’s eyes. “Just as you said. Payback was secondary to the killing.”
    “And he wanted it to be me who found her,” Eve added. “Because of that click last night, that mutual recognition. But he’s too cocky for his own good. There’ll be DNA again, and he’ll have picked up some of this dirt. Shoes, clothes. He’ll have transferred some of this dirt, this blood, and the sweepers will find it.”
    “He attacked her while she was on the ’link—to you, Eve.” Reaching out, Roarke took her hand, lifted her to her feet. “That’s another statement.”
    “Yeah, and I’m hearing him. Just like he’s going to hear me, really