Forgotten in Death (In Death #53) by J. D. Robb



“Singer. Is that right?”

“It is. Would I have it right your first call was to their project?”

“You would. I can’t see a connection between the bashing of a homeless woman early this morning and the murder of a pregnant woman nearly four decades ago. But you never know, do you?”

“You will.” He kissed her forehead before she could stop him.

“On duty.”

“Aren’t we both?” Then he walked over to the rope.

“Hell of a thing, boss.”

“It is, yes. Garnet. Christ, what people will do. Did she fall, do you think?”

“Dallas found what she believes is damage from bullet wounds, upper left ribs, and the spent bullets.”

“What people will do,” he repeated. “Well then, Mackie, the NYPSD is about to shut us down for a bit.”

“The lieutenant here said we could put up a security fence and close off this area. We can keep Building One on schedule.”

“See to that then, won’t you? And see that the steps up to this area are locked down. I’ll see the cops have codes for entry if needed.”

“I’ll get it going. If you need anything, Lieutenant, Detective, ma’am, just send somebody for Mackie.”

As Mackie jogged off, Roarke turned to Eve. “Is there anything you need from me?”

“A lot of information, and any data or plans you have or can access from when this building went up. I’m going to have a talk with Singer.”

“It’s Bolton Singer now,” Roarke told her. “Fourth generation. He and I made the deal on the property.”

“I need their records. They would’ve had a Mackie back then, maybe still have him or her. I need to know who worked or had access to this area when she went in. It’s not impossible somebody didn’t bust up the concrete more recently, then cover it up again.”

“I suppose it’s not. There would have been several buildings along here being built about the time she died.”

“So somebody decides to kill her, has access to the building over the pad, jacks it up, dumps her, does a quick cover-up. Possible.”

And a lot of work, Eve thought.

“More likely they dumped her in before, then covered her up. Either way, I need what building was over that section, and who had access.”

“I’ll have all that for you by this evening.”

“Good. Get me how long she’s been there, DeWinter. That’s a factor into finding who put her there.”

“It’ll take longer than this evening, but you’ll have it. Here’s my recovery crew.”

“And the sweepers. Earring, bullets,” she reminded DeWinter. “And she’s still wearing a necklace and a watch. I need those and anything else your team or the sweepers find.”

She looked at her wrist unit. “Peabody and I have to get back to the first scene.”

“Do you want what they find sent to you at Central or straight to the lab?”

“Lab. We’ll get by there at some point today, or tomorrow.”

“I’ll be here for a while yet,” Roarke told her.

“I’ll be in touch.”

With Peabody, Eve clanged down the metal steps.

“It’s a stretch,” Peabody commented, “to connect a murder from potentially thirty-seven years ago here with the murder of a sidewalk sleeper last night a block and a half south.”

“The Singer organization owns and is developing the first scene, owned and did develop the second scene at the probable time of the unidentified victim’s murder. But, yeah, still a stretch. And they have a partner. I did some looking when you were examining the remains. Singer partners with Bardov Construction for areas within what they’re now calling the River View development.”

“Bardov?” That was a name she knew. “Did you get any specifics?”

“Not yet, but I can dig.”

“Yeah, do that, and we’ll look at the partner, seeing as that company’s owned by a Russian gangster.”

“Really?”

“Feels like kind of sloppy for the mob,” Eve considered, “but then again, it was effective. She could have been part of the company, worked for any of those companies—if they had access to that site, that building under construction. There’s a reason you cover up, hide, basically bury a body. They walled her in there, Peabody.”