“No problem. Lieutenant, we’re going to have to deal with getting these people, at least some of these people, off.”
“I’m working on it. Explosives, employees, discs, emergency evac, secured areas. Let’s get on it.”
She turned away, moved to where Carolee still sat surrounded by her family.
“Mrs. Grogan, I need to speak with you.”
“I’d like to treat her head wound.” Steve kept his arm protectively around his wife. “And check her out more thoroughly. If there’s a medical kit, I could use it.”
“I’ll find one,” Peabody told him, then glanced at Eve. “Our guys will be on board in a couple of minutes.”
“Okay. Find the kit. Organize the team. I want another search, every square inch of this ferry. I want the sweepers in that bathroom. I want it scoured. See if you can find out if anyone else has been reported missing.”
“Yes, sir.”
As Peabody left, Carolee shook her head. “I’m sorry, I’m a little confused. Who are you again?”
“Lieutenant Dallas, NYPSD.”
“The police,” Carolee said slowly. “You need to talk to me? I know I got a little upset with the security man, but I was worried about Pete. I couldn’t find my boy.”
“Understood. Mrs.—”
“If you’re police, do you have a zapper?” Obviously content now that his mother was where she belonged, Pete gave Eve a curious squint.
“Don’t interrupt,” Carolee admonished.
“Mrs. Grogan,” Eve began again, but lifted her jacket aside to reveal her sidearm—and the boy flashed her a grin. “Can you tell me what happened, after you and your son went to use the restrooms?”
“Actually, we were going to get drinks, then Pete needed to go, so we swung over that way. I told him to wait, to stay right there if he got out before I did.”
“But, Mom—”
“We’ll talk about
that
later,” she said in a tone that warned of lecture, and the kid slumped down in his seat.
“And then,” Eve prompted.
“Then, I waited a minute, watched Pete go in, and I . . .” Her face went blank for a moment. “That’s funny.” She offered a puzzled smile. “I’m not quite sure. I must’ve hit my head. Maybe I slipped?”
“Inside the bathroom?”
“I—It’s silly, but I just don’t remember.”
“Don’t remember hitting your head, or going into the bathroom?”
“Either,” she admitted. “I must’ve really knocked it.” She tapped her fingers to the bump, winced. “I could use a blocker.”
“I don’t want to give you anything until I check you out a little more,” Steve told her.
“You’re the doctor.”
Eve thought of a case, not so long before, where memories had been lost. Or stolen. “How bad’s the headache?”
“Between crappy and lousy.”
“If you try to remember, does the pain increase?”
“Remember hitting it?” Carolee closed her eyes, squeezed them in concentration. “No. It stays between crappy and lousy.”
“Any nausea, baby, or blurred vision?” Steve shined a penlight in her eyes to check pupil reaction.
“No. I feel like I walked into a wall or something and smacked my head. That’s it.”
“There was an Out of Order sign on the door,” Eve reminded her.
“There . . . That’s right!” Carolee’s eyes brightened. “I do remember that. So I . . . but I wouldn’t—I
know
I didn’t go off to one of the other restrooms. I wouldn’t leave Pete. I must’ve gone in. I must’ve, because I had to come out again, right? He wasn’t there waiting. I must’ve slipped and hit my head, and I’m just a little shaky on the details. I’m not sure I understand why it matters to the police.”
“Mrs. Grogan, you were missing for over an hour.”
“Me? Missing? That’s crazy. I just—” But she glanced at her wrist unit, and went sheet white. “But that can’t be. That can’t be the right time. We were only gone for a few minutes. The ferry ride takes less than a half hour, and we’d barely started. This can’t be right.”
“Nobody could find you. We couldn’t find you,” Steve said. “We were so scared.”
“Well, God.” She stared at her husband, shoved a hand through her hair as it started to sink in. “Did I wander off? Hit my head and wander off? Maybe I have a concussion. I wandered off.” She looked down at Pete. “And then I yelled at you when I was the one. I’m sorry, kiddo. Really.”
“We thought you were dead ’cause there was the blood.” The boy pressed his face to Carolee’s breast and started to cry.
“Blood?”
“Mrs. Grogan, the DOT officials notified the NYPSD not only because you were, apparently, missing, but because the facilities they believed you entered had a considerable amount of blood on the floor, as well as spatter on the walls and doors of the stalls.”
“But . . .” Her breathing went shallow as Carolee stared at Eve. “It’s not mine. I’m okay.”
“It’s not yours. You went into the bathroom,” Eve prompted, “despite the Out of Order sign.”
“I can’t remember. It’s just blank. Like it’s been erased. I remember watching Pete go into the boys’ room, and I . . . I remember seeing the sign, but then, I can’t. I would’ve gone in,” she murmured. “Yes, that’s what I would’ve done, just to check, because it was right there and why not look? I couldn’t leave Pete. But I don’t remember going in, or . . . coming out. But I couldn’t have gone in, or I would’ve come out. Probably screaming if I saw blood all over the place. It doesn’t make sense.”
“No,” Eve agreed, “it doesn’t.”
“I didn’t hurt anyone. I wouldn’t.”
“I don’t think you hurt anyone.”
“An hour. I lost an hour. How can that be?”
“Have you ever lost time before?”
“No. Never. I mean, I’ve lost track of time, you know? But this is different.”
“Will, how about getting your mom a drink?” Steve sent his older son an easy smile. “I bet she’s a little dehydrated.”
“Actually—” Carolee laughed a little weakly. “I could really use the restroom.”
“Okay.” Eve watched Peabody come back in with a med kit. “Just a second.” She walked over to waylay her partner. “Go ahead and give the kit to Grogan, and take the woman to the john. Stick with her.”
“Sure. We’re on board, and we’ve got a deck-by-deck search going. I have to say, the natives are getting a little restless.”
“Right. They’ll have to hang on a little longer.”
“I wonder if maybe this whole thing isn’t some stupid prank. Somebody dumps a bunch of blood in that bathroom, hangs the sign, sits back and waits for somebody to go in.”
“Then why hang the sign?”
“Okay, a flaw in the scenario, but—”
“And how did they transport a couple quarts of human blood? And where did Mrs. Grogan go for an hour?”
“Several flaws.”
“Stick with her,” Eve repeated. “Get their New York address. Let’s arrange for them to be taken back so she can get a full check at a health center, and I want a watch on them.” She glanced back. “If she saw something, someone, maybe whoever’s responsible for the blood will start to worry about her.”
“I’ll make sure she’s covered. Nice family,” Peabody added, studying the group.
“Yeah. Welcome to New York.”
Eve tracked down Jake.
“All emergency evac devices are accounted for.” He passed her a file of security discs. “Those are from all cams on board. The list of employees, DOT officials, is labeled.”
“Good. Where the hell did those fireworks come from?”
“Well.” He scratched his head. “It looks like they were set off starboard side, probably the stern. That’s from figuring the basic trajectory from witnesses. But we haven’t got any physical evidence. No ash, no mechanism. Nothing so far, so I’m not sure they were set off from the boat.”
“Hmm.” Eve pondered and glanced out at the wide harbor.
“The NYPSD is crawling all over the place, and your CI team’s covering the crime scene. If it is one,” he added. “We’ve accounted for every DOT employee on board, and between your people and mine, we’ve been interviewing passengers, concentrating on those who are in the areas of the scene. So far, none of them saw anything. And you have to admit, hauling a body around would attract some attention.”
“You’d think.”
“W hat do we do now?”
As far as Eve could determine, there were two options. The killer—if indeed a murder had taken place—had somehow gotten off the ferry. Or the killer still needed to get off.
“Looks like we’re going to Staten Island. Here’s how we’ll handle it.”
It was going to take time, and a great deal of patience, but nearly
four thousand passengers would be ID’d, searched and questioned before they were allowed to disembark at St. George terminal. Fortunately a good chunk of that number was kids. Eve didn’t think—though kids were strange and often violent entities to her mind—that the pool of blood was the work of some maniac toddler.
“It’s actually moving along okay,” Peabody reported, and got a grunt from Eve.
“The search is ongoing,” Peabody continued. “So far, no weapon, no body, no evil killer hiding in a storage closet.”
Eve continued to review the security disc on boarding on her PPC. “The body’s dumped by now.”
“How?”
“I don’t know how, but it’s dumped or transported. Two searches, and this one with corpse detectors. He, or an accomplice, used the fireworks as a distraction. Get everyone’s attention in one direction, do what you need to do in the other. Has to be.”
“It doesn’t explain how he got the DB out of the bathroom.”
“No.”
“Well, if it wasn’t a prank, maybe it’s a vortex.”
Eve shifted her gaze up, gave Peabody a five-second pitiable stare.
“Free-Ager here, remember. I grew up on vortexes. It’s a better theory than abracadabra.” On a sigh, Peabody studied the bright, tropical fish swimming behind the glass of an enormous aquarium.
“He didn’t toss the body overboard, then dive in and swim away,” Peabody pointed out. “Like a fish.” Noting Eve’s considering expression, Peabody threw up her hands. “Come on, Dallas. There’s no way out of the bathroom, not without walking in front of dozens and dozens of people.”
“In back mostly, since they’d be looking out at the water. If the blood currently being rushed to the lab proves to have come from a warm body—one we hope to identify through DNA matching—there has to be a way out and a way off, because he used it.”
“Parallel universe. There are some scientific theories that support the possibility.”
“The same ones, I bet, that support sparkly winged fairies skipping around the woods.”
“A mocker.” Peabody wagged a finger. “That’s what you are, Dallas. A mocker.”
“In my world, we call it sane.”
Jake joined them. “We’re about halfway through. Maybe a little more.”
“Find any vortexes, parallel universes or sparkly winged fairies?” Eve asked him.
“Mocker,” Peabody repeated.
“Ah . . . not so far.” He offered them both a go-cup of coffee. “No weapons, no blood, no dead body either, and so far everyone who’s gone through the ticker and the interview station is alive.”
“I’m going back on board,” Eve told him. “If we get a hit—any kind of hit—contact me. Peabody, with me.”
“Hey.” Jake tapped Peabody’s arm when she started to move off with Eve. “We’re probably going to put in a long one here. Maybe we could get a drink after we’re clear. You know, decompress.”
Flustered, she felt heat rise to her cheeks that was a giddy mix of pleasure and embarrassment. “Oh, well. Um. That’s nice—it’s nice, I mean, to ask and all that. I live with somebody. A guy. An e-guy. We’re . . . you know. Together.”
“Lucky him,” Jake said, and had her blush deepening. “Maybe, sometime, we can grab a brew, just on the friendly side.”
“Sure. Maybe. Ah . . .” She flashed a smile, then shot off after Eve.
“Did you forget what ‘with’ means?”
“No. In fact, I remembered exactly, in that I’m
with
McNab. I remembered even when Jake hit on me.”
“Oh, that’s different.” Eve shot out a sunny smile that had Peabody’s stomach curdling. “Let me apologize for interrupting. Maybe the two of you want to take a break, go get a drink, get to know each other better. We can always puzzle out whether or not we have a missing DB and killer later. We wouldn’t want a potential murder investigation to get in the way of a potential romance, would we?”
“I speak sarcasm fluently. He did ask me out for a drink though.”
“Should I note that in my memo book, on today’s date?”
“Jeez.” Sulk warred with smug as Peabody boarded the ferry with Eve. “I’m just saying. Plus I get double credits. First I get the satisfaction credit of being hit on by the sexy DOT inspector, and second I get loyal and true credit for turning him down because I have my personal sexy nerd. I hardly ever get hit on, unless you count McNab—which really doesn’t since we cohab—so it
is
noteworthy.”
“Fine, so noted. Can we move on?”
“I should get at least five minutes of
woo
. Okay,” she mumbled under Eve’s withering stare. “I’ll put the rest of the
woo
time on my account.”
With a shake of her head, Eve crossed the deck, now empty but for cops and sweepers, to speak to a crime-scene investigator.
“Schuman, what’ve you got?”
She knew him to be a hard-bitten, seen-it-all type, as comfortable in the lab as on scene. He’d shed his protective suit and booties and stood unfolding a piece of gum from its wrapper. “What we’ve got is about two quarts of blood and body fluids, plenty of spatter. Got some flesh and fibers, and a virtual shitload of prints. We’re gonna want to get it in for a full workup and analysis, but with the on-scene exam, we got your blood type—A Neg, and spot samples indicate it’s all from the same person. Whoever that is would be dead as my uncle Bob, whose demise went unlamented by all who knew him.”
He popped the gum, chewed for a thoughtful moment. “I can tell you what we ain’t got. That would be a body or a blood trail, or at this point one freaking notion how said body got the hell out of that john.” He smiled. “It’s interesting.”