Read In Death 12 - Betrayal in Death for Free Online

homicide cop. With a few words you cut slices out of lives. No matter how they were put back together later, they were never the same. Once pieces were missing from the whole, the pattern was forever altered.
    Eve tried not to think about it on the way back from New Jersey, where she'd left Darlene French's mother and younger sister devastated. Instead, she moved on to the steps that would bring them justice, if not comfort.
    "If there were any like crimes in the city or other boroughs, I'd have heard about it." Still, she used the in-dash computer in Roarke's spiffy little 6000XXX to do a scan for them. "We got your strangulations, we got your rape, and we got your battery," she began.
    "I love New York."
    "Yeah, me, too. We're sick. Anyway, we have each of the basic elements here and there over the last six months, but none that include all three. And none with a silver wire used as a garrote. Nothing in a hotel either. But the fact that he used one means he could have hit other cities, countries, even off planet. I'll widen the scan when -- "
    She broke off as the communicator in her purse signaled. "Dallas."
    "Can't you take one goddamn night off?"
    She stared into Feeney's mournful eyes. "I was working on it."
    "Well, work harder. You take one, maybe some of the rest of us get one. I was all kicked back with a bottle of brew, a bowl of cheese chips, and the Yankee game onscreen when Peabody tagged me."
    "Sorry."
    "Yeah, well, the sons of bitches lost, lost to the freaking Tijuana Tacos. Burns my ass." He blew out a breath, scratching his fingers in his wiry thatch of graying russet-colored hair. "Anyway, something about your guy rang some bells when Peabody shot the image through. Couldn't bring it together at first. Had to run him through IRCCA with disc image only. No prints. Sweepers say he musta sealed up. We'll get his DNA though, from the blood and skin under her nails, and the semen. Didn't seal up his dick."
    "Yeah, I know how you guys hate putting a coat on your best friend."
    He gave her a sour smile. "I don't figure he's worried about the DNA. Sealed up, I expect, to buy a little time to relocate. Take us a few hours to get the DNA results."
    "Did you get a pop through IRCCA?"
    "I'm getting to it. So I run him, image only. Get me some likelies with probable face-sculpting work. I fiddle around with them some on the morphing system, and I got a real pretty picture. Added in the murder weapon, and rang those bells. Name's Sylvester Yost. Sly Yost. Got him a shit pot load of aliases, but that's his birth name."
    "Was Priory one of his a.k.a.s?"
    "Not until now. I got it added into the mix. Anyhow, about fifteen years back I worked a case -- serial strangulations, silver wire. Five victims scattered all over the damn planet. We had one in New York. Female. Licensed companion. Second-rate license. She had ties to the black market. So did the other four victims. Not the same organization. But every victim was a key player in something mucky. We got a line on Yost, but never tugged him in on it. The murders stopped, and the case sat there going stale."
    "A hired hammer?"
    "We figured, but who hired the bastard? He hit every major cartel. No bias there. He comes up most likely on no less than twenty strangulations before and since. And he did time in the thirties for assault with deadly."
    "Yeah, I knew he'd seen what a cage looks like from the inside. Only one arrest?"
    "Just the one. Records show he'd have been twenty when the Miami cops reeled him in. Looks like he's gotten better at his work over the years."
    "I'm pulling into Central now. Send me everything you've got on him."
    "Already did. I'm going to work it some more. Get you an update in the morning. I'd like a second shot at this guy."
    "You've got it."
    "Tomorrow, then. Hey, Dallas?"
    "What?"
    "What's that stuff in your hair?"
    "What stuff?" She reached up, dragging fingers through, and felt the little raindrop diamonds. "It's just -- I was out..."