Page 7 of Random in Death
Eve looked down at the body. Five-three maybe, weighing a buck and some small change. Dressed for fun with a tiny, shiny bag worn cross-body.
Eve opened her kit to seal up. “Roarke, why don’t you take a walk with Jake and Nadine? Get them some coffee.” She looked at Jake—pale, his eyes full of grief and a hint of shock. “I’ll need to talk to you, both of you, but right now, I need to take care of her.”
“She just… she just stumbled out the door, and—”
“I’m sorry this happened, Jake, but you need to leave her with me now.”
“Come on, Jake.” Nadine slid an arm around his waist. “We have to let Dallas do what she needs to do.”
When Roarke led them away, she crouched and carefully opened the little bag.
A mini ’link, lip stuff, her ID, a key card, a little cash, and a disc marked DEMO FOR JAKE KINCADE.
She thought: Well, shit.
“ID in the purse on the victim is for Jenna Harbough, age sixteen, mixed race. Brown and brown, five feet, three inches, a hundred and six pounds. Photo matches.”
Minus the pink tips in the brown hair, and the life in the big brown eyes.
After bagging the contents of the purse for Evidence, she took out her Identi-pad to make it official.
“Prints match.” She read the address into the record, and realized it had to be next door to their friends Charles and Louise. “Parents, Shane and Julia Harbough, younger sibling, male, Reed, age twelve.”
She took out her gauges. “Time of death, twenty-two-fifty-eight.”
After putting on microgoggles, she leaned down to get a good look at the wound on the arm.
“Somebody jabbed me, she said, and yeah, that sounds accurate. The wound on the arm’s fresh. It’s also puffy, inflamed. Potentially, she could have self-inflicted, but there are no works on her person and no signs of illegals abuse. ME to confirm.”
A boyfriend or girlfriend, maybe, who pressured her into trying something new? A rebellious, youthful impulse that went terribly wrong?
He jabbed me.
Or something else.
Gently, she turned the body, found no visible wounds.
Sitting back on her heels, she took out her ’link, tagged Peabody. Then straightening up, contacted the morgue, the sweepers.
“Have you been inside, Officer?”
“Yes, Lieutenant, briefly.”
“An estimate of how many are in there?”
“Well, sir, it’s packed. Gotta be a couple hundred.”
“Okay. I need you to stand by here until the dead wagon comes to transport the victim. And the sweepers arrive to process this scene. After that, I’m likely to need you and your partner inside to help with crowd control.”
“Yes, sir. It’s a damn shame, Lieutenant. I’ve got a grandkid about her age. You hate to see a kid. I’ll look out for her until they come to take her.”
Since she wanted to interview Jake next, Eve walked back down the alley. She saw him with Nadine and Roarke standing by her vehicle. She stopped to give the second uniform instructions, then walked down.
“Nadine, how about you walk around the block with Roarke?”
“I don’t want to—”
“I need to talk to Jake. Just Jake. Then I need to talk to you. Just you.”