The bed stood on one side, covered with a white duvet, mounds of pillows in various colors, and a couple of stuffed animals she figured made the teen cut from childhood.

  As Peabody said, the rest of the room Jenna devoted to her dream.

  The computer desk held two screens. A guitar stood on a stand, a keyboard on a smaller counter with headphones beside them. Yet another counter held more equipment, another set of headphones.

  “This is prime stuff,” Peabody told her. “It’s smaller scale and lower end than what Mavis has in her studio at the house, but it’s prime. This is serious stuff, and it says her parents supported her with this. A kid couldn’t afford all this.”

  She walked over, tapped some control board.

  “This one? She could mix various instruments, record her voice and overdub, and all that.”

  On that, Eve took Peabody’s word. “It’s organized, clean. Cooler in here than the rest of the house.”

  “For the equipment. It should stay cool, and you don’t want dust and crumbs, liquids getting into it.”

  Eve opened a door. “Okay, closet. Not as clean and organized.”

  She opened another. “Small bathroom, clean, but with all this hair and face stuff all over the counter.”

  “Getting ready for the big night.”

  “Yeah. You know more about the equipment, so you start there. I’ll take the closet and the bathroom.”

  Eve studied the closet. Like many females Eve knew, Jenna had a thing for shoes. Skids, kicks, booties, sandals, fancy shoes, clunky shoes. High-tops, low-tops, airboots.

  She hadn’t stinted on clothes, either. Mostly pants—baggies, jeans, crops. A handful of dresses, more skirts, some barely longer than a dinner napkin, others that would’ve hit her ankles.

  Skinny tops, oversized tops, flowy, clingy—and everything in between.

  She found nothing in pockets, nothing tucked secretly in the toes of footwear or in any of the half a dozen handbags—all small, all cross-body style.

  As she worked, music filled the room behind her.

  “I found some recordings,” Peabody called out. “This is a mash-up with Avenue A’s ‘In the Dark’ and one of hers she titled ‘Going Down.’ It’s good, Dallas. It’s really good. Listen to her. She overdubbed so she’s singing harmony with herself. She had a serious range.”

  Eve heard the voices wind around each other, blend, a kind of defiant, edge of angry mix that suited the lyrics about booting someone out of her life.

  Then Avenue A took over, crashing guitars, and yeah, defiant and angry male voices.

  Same theme, she realized, different viewpoints.

  “She’s got mash-ups in this section.” Peabody pointed toward the screen. “Another area for originals. Another where she’s done covers. And one more for works in progress.

  “She’s got a laptop, put away. It looks like it’s strictly for schoolwork. At least that’s all I found on it with a quick scan. Nothing’s passcoded.”

  “Closet’s clear—no hidey-holes. She had some cash stuffed in one of her bags. Under a hundred. I didn’t find any T-shirts, no underwear in the closet. There’s no dresser.”

  “Drawers under the bed. I haven’t looked there yet.”

  “I’ve got it.”

  She found tees, tanks, sweatshirts, shorts in one drawer, underwear—simple, pretty, but not overtly sexy—in another.

  On the other side, there were notebooks.

  For lyrics, for stray thoughts and ideas. Doodles, and the occasional sidebar.

  Reed can be such a brat!

  The ’rents are mega strict!! I’m FOURTEEN!!!! It’s just one tat, ffs! But all I get is the big NO. Ugh!

  She’d obviously gone back to revisit lyrics, thoughts, sidebars, as she’d added to them.

  Sixteen today! And I still want that damn tat. Two more years!!

  Eve settled down on the floor, flipping through the notebooks, hoping a clue jumped into her lap.

  While she searched, Peabody switched the music.

  A kind of ballad, solo, with the dead girl’s voice as clear as bells, pure as angels.

  Glancing over, she saw Peabody’s eyes had gone shiny as she searched the desk. She could tell her to cut the music, Eve thought, but that voice, the heart in it helped her—helped them—see the girl they stood for.

  She found other quick notes. Leelee got her hair cut. Chelsea got blue highlights. Everybody got mani-pedis.

  She went out to the vids with someone named Jay.

  I like when he kissed me good night. It felt all mmm in my stomach. Maybe we’ll go out again sometime. But music’s first!

  Everything she read confirmed statements. No serious relationship, nobody who pushed or pressured, no one she blew off—that she wrote of or realized.

  And in the final book, she found a final note.

  Tonight’s the night!!!!! I can’t believe it’s finally here. I worked my BUTT off on the demo for Jake and the guys. It’s mag, I just know it. I must find a way to get it to him. Oh, it’s going to be the abso-ult! Seeing Ave A in person!!!!! Woo! I love them so much!! (esp Jake!) I helped L and C pick out their outfits, and they helped me with mine. We are going to look so iced tonight!! I hope I don’t blubber and act like a wheeze when I meet Jake and give him the demo. I want him to know I’m a serious musician and songwriter. It’s going to be the best night of my life!

  Eve put the book back, took the next drawer.

  The junk drawer. Guitar picks, packs of guitar strings, bottles of half-used nail polish, pencils, markers, empty notebooks, scissors, sunshades, and other debris.

  No secrets, no threatening messages.

  She got up to take the bathroom.

  “I’m not finding anything, Dallas. Her music’s extensive and organized. She’s got plenty of tunes from groups and artists she liked—a hell of a collection, really—and some pretty technical review notes on some of them. Some vids of her practicing, like performing in here. Trying different styles, trying to work up like a signature, she called it.”

  “Copy some of those. I’ll take a look later. Emails, vid calls through the comp?”

  “Nothing much, but her age group lives by the ’link. I’m nearly done here.”

  “Just the bathroom.”

  As she went through it, Eve told Peabody about the notebooks, the quick comments in it. And the last Jenna had written.

  In the bathroom she found mascara in every shade imaginable and beyond. Enough lip dye to turn an entire building any shade of pink. Eye shadows, liners, something called highlighter, cheek color, and more. And the stuff used to set the stuff, the stuff used to take off the stuff. Stuff to put on after taking off the stuff.

  Jesus, how much did a sixteen-year-old face require to looked iced?

  As she finished up, Charles rapped knuckles on the bedroom doorframe.

  “Sorry to interrupt. Louise texted that they’re about to come home. I thought you’d want to know.”

  “Yeah. I’m done here. Peabody?”

  “Same.”

  “Let’s get out. They don’t need us to be here when they get back. You could let them know, Charles, the room’s cleared. That we appreciate them allowing us into Jenna’s personal space.”

  “I will.”

  They started downstairs together.

  “Can I give them a sense of what you found?”

  “Take this, Peabody.”

  “You can tell them we found Jenna to be a lovely young woman with an extraordinary talent. We’ll work very hard to find out who took her from them.”

  “That’s perfect.” Charles wrapped around her. “It’s good to see you, Dee, even in these awful circumstances.”

  “Come by the house again when you and Louise can. More progress since you saw it last.”

  “We’ll make a point of it.”

  “One last thing,” Eve said as she and Peabody stepped outside. “They’ll hold a memorial for her. We need to know when and where.”

  “You think whoever did this might show up?”

  “They often do.”

  “I know they have family they asked to come in—not everyone lives in or around New York. They want to have the memorial date set. Louise and I are helping, so we can let you know when it is.”

  “All right. Later.”

  “I’m with Reed,” Charles called out. “When you find the bastard, hurt him.”

  “After going through that room, it’s hard not to feel the same.”

  “Not how it works,” Eve reminded Peabody.

  “I know, but it’s hard not to hope maybe it’ll be necessary, under the law.”

  In the car, Eve sat back a moment.

  “I’m going to check in with EDD. Unless they hit something, there’s nothing left on this today. We need to set up with her school, and we can check other chem labs—other schools, colleges.

  “I need thinking time.”

  “My brain’s out of thoughts. And my stomach’s just as empty. Yours has to be, too.”

  She hadn’t thought about food, but had to admit the fatigue had hit her brain.

  “You contact EDD. Even if they hit, we can either work it from home, or we turn around and grab up whoever they found. I need to tag Roarke. He asked me to when we finished, and we’re finished.”

  “We put in a good day, Dallas. We made progress.”

  They made their tags.

  “Nothing yet. A maybe, but head down, no face. They’re flagging black baggies, black shirt, but there are more than one. They’re about to knock off, let it run on auto. Any hits, it’ll signal their ’links.”

  “So far, the only mistakes he made were leaving those scuff marks and the fabric on the window. We follow up there tomorrow. Roarke’s at the house—your house. I can take you there or to the apartment.”

  “There please! I can make something to eat. You’ve gotta eat. My craft room’s painted—I went with the neutral so the yarns and fabrics give the pop. And the main bedroom and bath on Mavis’s side is finished. So’s Bella’s room. Oh, it’s going to be so sweet when it’s furnished.”

  Since she couldn’t think anyway, Eve let Peabody ramble as they drove.

  The gates of the Great House Project opened when she pulled up to them.

  The exterior looked as it had the last time. Finished, homey, happy. Flowers and trees, green grass, the wide porch, the tall windows.

  As she parked, Roarke walked around from the back of the house. Odd, she thought; though it had been only hours since she’d left him, it felt like days.

  Roarke took one look at her. “You’re tired, Lieutenant. As are you, Peabody. We’re on the back patio. Come sit awhile.”

  As they walked around the house, down a paved path that sort of meandered, Peabody talked about doing some shade plants, naturalizing with bulbs or something.

  Eve wanted to lay her head on Roarke’s shoulder and shut her eyes. For several hours.

  Then Bella raced around the back corner and shot at Eve like a missile.

  Oh God, she thought, but with little choice caught the girl in red shorts and a shirt with a unicorn jumping over a rainbow as she leaped.

  “Das! Das! Das!”

  Cupping Eve’s face, she slobbered kisses on both her cheeks. Then leaned back. Her face, pretty as that rainbow, crumpled into sympathy. “Aw, Das seepy. Nap.”

  “If only.”

  Bella laid her head on Eve’s shoulder, patted her arm and sang something sweet and incomprehensible.

  “It’s a lullaby,” Peabody told her. “Mavis sings it to her at bedtime.”

  Eve gave up. Even for a kid-phobic cop, Bella hit irresistible.

  Her mother sat at a patio table, one hand on the growing Number Two and the other holding a glass of what looked like lemonade with a sparkle.

  Leonardo sat beside her in a flowing, sleeveless shirt over flowing cotton pants. He looked like a man absolutely content with his world.

  Despite the baby bump, Mavis sprang up, gave a bounce on the purple sneaks that matched her current hair color.

  “We were hoping!”

  She didn’t leap into Eve’s arms, but threw her own around her. “You look washed, both of you. You’re going to sit down, stretch out your legs, have some wine.”

  “I really should—”

  “Have some wine before we put our spanking new grill to work making burgers—with cow meat provided by Roarke. We’ve got real potatoes, too. Not from the garden, yet, but real ones.”

  “Woo. I’ll make fries. Fresh, hand cut.”

  “We’ve got some in the AutoChef. Peabody, you’re washed and wasted.”

  “Just the idea of burgers and fries perks me right up. So does the chance to cook in my own gorgeous kitchen.”

  “Then I’ll make a salad—and that is from our very own mag garden. But first, wine for everybody.” Glowing with happy, Mavis patted her baby bump. “Except me, Number One, and Number Two.”

  “Bella Nummer One!”

  “Come sit. We’re going to have our very first dinner party. McNab?”

  “He should be here before too long.”

  Leonardo rose, kissed Eve’s cheek. “I’ll get the wine.”

  She drank wine. And since Bella shouted, “Watch me!” she watched the kid go down the slide on her playset, listened to the waterfall in Peabody’s seriously amazing water feature.

  And because the happy and homey demanded it, put murder aside for a little while.

  She knew nothing about gardens, but walked out with Mavis and watched the urbanite, the music sensation, the former street grifter, pluck tomatoes off the vine, pull carrots out of the ground, snip lettuce.

  “I wanted a minute to ask how Jake’s doing. It’s so beyond awful.”

  “He’s okay. He’ll get better.”

  “And that poor kid won’t.”

  “No.”

  “But she’s got you and Peabody, and McNab and Feeney. Roarke, too.” Mavis walked along, plucking, twisting, snipping stuff to go in her basket. “You’ll find out who did this.”

  “That’s the plan. Isn’t that a lot?”

  “Not once you put it all together. I make magalicious salads.” Much like her daughter, Mavis threw back her head and laughed. “Who knew?”

  “Not me.”

  “There’s McNab. Look at Bella go. Nothing she likes better than having people all around. She’ll be sixteen one day.”

  “Mavis.”

  “No, I’m not like, what is it, projecting. I just mean you have to start letting them go, bit by bit, so, so soon. You have to because that’s part of it. It’s bitching scary, Dallas, those bit by bits, but you gotta, and that’s that. And the whacked of it? They’re scary, but they make you stupid proud at the same time.”

  “You and Leonardo are great at this.”

  “We freaking are. And now we have all this to give Bella, and Number Two, and all the ones who come after.”

  “All? After?”

  “Oh yeah, bet your ass. There’ll be more. There goes Peabody, off to make fries from potatoes. Jesus, Dallas, she’s teaching me so much.”

  Mavis beamed at Eve. “Want me to teach you how to make a magalicious salad?”

  “I absolutely don’t.”

  Instead, she had more wine, got a quick update from McNab, and put it all away again.

  She ate a salad made by her oldest friend, burgers Leonardo cooked—mostly—with Roarke showing him how it was done. And ridiculously excellent handmade fries fresh out of Peabody’s kitchen.

  She figured Leonardo had a right to feel perfectly content with his world. The music sensation, the designer, the cops, and the kid (and the one on the way) had created a damn good one.

  Chapter Seven

  More than happy to turn the wheel over to Roarke, Eve kicked back in her seat as they drove home.

  He gave her leg an affectionate rub.

  “It meant a lot to them, having you stay for wine and burgers.”

  “I figured we’d stay five minutes, and it ended up closer to three hours. But it meant a lot to me, too. It’s the happiest damn unfinished house.”

  “Another six to eight weeks, it will be finished, and I expect happier yet.”

  “Mavis pulled carrots out of the ground. She knew they were carrots even though the carrot part’s in the ground, and knew how to yank them out. Of the ground. Then what to do with them after that.”

  It both baffled and amazed.

  “When I first met her, the closest she’d have come to a carrot would’ve been sliding by them in a market on her way to steal a candy bar.”

  Eve considered. “After she’d lifted somebody’s wallet.”

  “It was a lovely salad.”

  “She put those flowers in it. The nasty ones.”

  “Nasturtiums.”

  “Right, those. It’s weird eating flowers even though they’re, well, tasty. And you’re showing Leonardo how to cook burgers, Peabody’s making fries from potatoes, McNab’s dancing around with the kid on his shoulders.

  “Where does she get that laugh?” Even now, Eve could hear it. “It’s like somebody on happy juice in an asylum.”

  She started to close her eyes, then realized if she did, she’d be asleep before she opened them again.

  “The victim’s bedroom? Peabody called it a music studio with a bed, and that’s accurate.”

  “She was serious about the music then?”

  “Deeply. And, Jesus, Roarke, the kid had a voice. Peabody went through her equipment, her recordings. Jake wants to listen to the demo she made. The one she brought to the club, hoping to get it to him.”

  “Of course he does.”

  Of course for Jake, Eve agreed. But plenty of others would want just the opposite. Self-preservation.

  “It’ll cut at him. Listening to her today cut at me, and I know better. It’ll cut sharp at him.”

  “Tell me about her. You know her now.”

  “Young for her age. Part of that’s the parental shield, and part’s her focus on music. At the same time a maturity. She had her goals lined up. She liked boys, but wasn’t interested in hookups. Tight with her two friends and their families.

  “She wanted a tat,” Eve remembered. “Musical notes—she drew three of them in her notebook. On her wrist.” Eve tapped the inside of her wrist. “Big no from the parental shield on that, which pissed her off. She wasn’t a wheeze or a weeb or a tot or a flaker or a bruiser.”