She got clean and clear on all. If, she decided, the word from EDD was an on-site screw-up, she’d run their spouses, when applicable, and family members. But for now she couldn’t put off informing next of kin. It took, Eve thought when she’d finished, under thirty seconds to shatter the world of two ordinary people, with ordinary lives. More time, she reflected as she turned back to her board, than it had taken to slash Ava Marsterson’s throat, for her brain to process the insult. But not much. Not much more. She rubbed the heels of her hands over eyes gritty with fatigue, then checked the time. A couple of hours until she could bitch at the lab for any results, or go to the morgue for the same on the victim’s autopsy. Enough time for a shower to clear her head before nagging EDD. She picked up the bag Roarke had left her. “Take two hours in the crib,” she ordered Peabody when she stepped back into the bullpen.
