Secret Admirer

“Spy on her, you mean,” Tony said, frowning.

“No, I don’t think it was that way.” Eve paused. “I think she genuinely cared about Lucy, and from everything I’ve been able to gather, that wasn’t unusual. Lucy was a personable young woman.”

Something flashed in Tony’s eyes, an emotion Eve couldn’t define, but he said nothing.

“Mrs. Jarvis thought there was a possibility that Lucy may have had a new boyfriend.”

“That seems to fit.”

Eve knew he was referring to the setup of the crime scene—no tool marks at the front door, no sign of a struggle. It appeared Lucy Stringer had known her killer.

“Does she know who he is?” Tony asked.

Eve shook her head. “No. She never even saw him, but she said Lucy had been acting a little strangely the last few days. Secretive. And she hadn’t been getting home until all hours.”

“What’s ‘all hours’?”

“Three and four o’clock in the morning, according to Mrs. Jarvis. She thinks Lucy may have brought him home with her a time or two.”

“Did she see a car?”

Again Eve shook her head. “No. And she said she checked, too, but there was never a vehicle, besides Lucy’s, parked at the curb or in the driveway. She thinks maybe he rode with Lucy, and then either called a cab or walked home.”

“Which means he could live nearby,” Tony said, without expression.

Eve had thought about that, too. “Maybe Lucy gave him a lift the next day.”

“Maybe. We’ll need to find out the guy’s name, which means talking to Lucy’s friends and family. People she went to school with.”

“Mrs. Jarvis knew a couple of Lucy’s girlfriends. I’ve got their names in my notebook. There’s another thing.” When Tony glanced at her, Eve said, “A couple of weeks ago, Lucy received an anonymous love letter. She showed it to Mrs. Jarvis.”

“Was the letter signed?”

“Unfortunately, no, and Mrs. Jarvis’s memory is hazy on the content. But she remembers teasing Lucy about having a secret admirer, and then a few days later, Lucy received flowers. Pink roses, and the card wasn’t signed.”

“She have any idea where Lucy might have kept the letter and the card?”

“No, but she thinks Lucy’s new boyfriend was the same person who sent her the letter and the flowers. Maybe that was why Lucy was so secretive about him. She didn’t want his identity known.”

“Married?”

“That was my first thought,” Eve agreed. “But it could be someone prominent or older. Someone Lucy knew Mrs. Jarvis wouldn’t approve of.”

Tony nodded, distracted. “We’d better get the reports written up,” he said. “Then we can start the legwork.”

They started down the apartment stairs just as the coroner’s van pulled away from the curb and headed down the street. Some of the patrol cars had already dispersed, but a few officers remained, guarding the crime scene until CSU finished up.

Silently, Eve and Tony walked down the street to her car. But instead of opening the door and climbing in, Tony sat down on the curb. He dropped his head to his knees.

Startled, Eve hesitated, then sat down beside him. “Hey, you okay?”

He glanced up at her, his gaze dark and haunted, his expression almost tortured. Without thinking, Eve reached out and touched his arm. He jerked, as if burned, and for a moment she thought he meant to fling aside her hand. But instead he grabbed her fingers, clutching them as though they were his lifeline.

“Didn’t you see it?” His voice was like nothing she’d ever heard before.

Eve stared at him in shock. “See what?”

“I can’t believe I never noticed it before. I can’t believe I never saw it.”

An icy chill rolled through Eve. “See what?” she repeated.

Tony’s eyes closed briefly and he shuddered. “She looked enough like Ashley to be her sister.”

A LITTLE WHILE LATER they sat behind their desks, face-to-face, typing their reports into their computers. Tony glanced up at Eve, but she didn’t return his look. She’d been avoiding eye contact ever since they’d left the scene, and he couldn’t really blame her. He must have sounded pretty freaked back there. What the hell had possessed him to make such an asinine comment? Lucy Stringer looked nothing like Ashley. Nothing.

Oh, sure, they’d both been blondes, both tall and fair. Lucy had been a pretty girl, but nothing spectacular.

What, then, had made him think even for an instant that she looked like Ashley?

Because of the wounds.

The revelation hit him like a bolt of lightning, and for a moment the last meal he’d had—whenever that had been—bubbled up in his stomach, threatening.

He hit the save button and stood. “I’ll catch you later.”

Eve glanced up in alarm. “Where are you going? The lieutenant will want to see our reports.”

“I’ve got to check on something,” he muttered, then turned on his heel and exited the office.

In the men’s room, he ran cold water in the sink, scrubbing at his face almost brutally, as if he could somehow wash away the terrible premonition taking hold somewhere inside him.

Seven stab wounds. There had been seven vicious stab wounds on Lucy’s body.

Just like on Ashley’s.

THE REST OF THE DAY was devoted to searching Lucy Stringer’s apartment from top to bottom, canvassing her neighborhood, interviewing neighbors, friends, relatives, anyone who might give them a lead.

They split up after lunch, Tony going to the morgue to oversee the autopsy and Eve to talk to Mrs. Jarvis yet again. They were to meet back at the station by five o’clock for a briefing with Clare, which was to become their regular pattern over the next few days.

At the end of the second day, Clare drummed her fingers impatiently on the desk as Tony and Eve filled her in on the progress of the investigation.

“Look,” she said, when the two of them had finished. “It’s been thirty-six hours. I don’t want this to become a mystery.”

“We don’t want that, either,” Eve said, knowing that the lieutenant was referring to the status of a case once forty-eight hours had passed and it remained unsolved. “We’re doing everything we can.”

“I’m bringing Sutton and Wilson in on this. The two of you can brief them when we finish.”

Tony said nothing, but Eve could feel the tension emanating between him and Clare.