In Death 47: Taken in Death by J. D. Robb

Author:J. D. Robb
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Eve pored over Mira’s data, she picked apart the case files from the investigation into Edquist’s murder, and reviewed the reports on the incidents involving Maj Borgstrom at the institution.

Mira’s data and analyses were detailed, insightful, offered a clearer picture of the subject. Batshit crazy pretty well summed it up, but with the seriously dicey element of cannibalistic tendencies.

The police reports might have lost a bit in the translation, but she couldn’t see where the Swedish cops hadn’t done a reasonably thorough job.

On the other hand, the institute’s internal and external reports came off spotty and smelled ever so lightly of cover-up.

Still, they all contributed to the whole.

She added key elements into her own notes, reorganized them. Borgstrom had worked in the prison library, laundry, kitchen, infirmary. She’d studied alternative medicine and had bartered sex for gain.

Could she have used any of those experiences or predilections to establish her identity, her location, her revenue stream?

Had she worked in medicine, education, food or domestic services to establish identity, to earn enough to pay for a place to live? A place she could hold two young kids?

“There’s an interest in the occult, of the dark and nasty variety,” Eve said to Roarke while Peabody continued to slave away on the map. “And her violence doesn’t seem random or impulsive, but planned and purposeful.”

On a short break from e-work, Roarke downed water and studied Eve’s data on screen. “The medical area might be her choice. Access to drugs, a chance to give pain or withhold it.”

“Yeah, I’m looking at that. Or one of those wicca-whatever shops. Herbals, rituals. Maybe a combo of traditional and nontraditional. Peabody! Do a search in the working area for small clinics and witchy places. Maybe alternative medicals. Like that.”

“I’ll add it in.”

“I wonder . . .”

Eve looked up, over at Roarke. “Wonder out loud. We can use anything.”

“If it is shadowed by the occult, and touching on ritual, would the knife she used to kill the nanny be a ritual knife?”

“It’s a thought. It’s an angle. Trueheart! Do a search for any occult retail in the working area, and see if any are open this late.”

“On it, Lieutenant.”

“She used sex for gain. Maybe she’s continued that pattern. An LC license? It would give her unlimited opportunities. Or she may have an accomplice, bound by sex—willing and informed or not. Or may have used one then disposed of him.”

“I’ll take that angle,” Feeney called out. “IRCCA’s my baby. I’ll dig in, look for like crimes.”

“Okay. Okay. Baxter, take it from Callender when she gets back. McNab, keep scanning for a transmission from the boy. He’s going to try again.”

She moved off, into the kitchen. She needed some quiet, some space to think. She couldn’t just put her boots up on her desk and study her board, let her mind shift from point to point, not with this setup.

But she could program coffee, let it all circle around, and try to find a new starting point.

Roarke came in, got coffee of his own.

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