when his interoffice ’link signaled. “Yes.”

“Commander, Detectives Peabody and Yancy.”

“Send them in.”

“Commander, Lieutenant.” Peabody angled over so Yancy, the Ident artist, could precede her. “We thought it would be more expedient if Detective Yancy reported to both of you at once.”

“Wish I had more.” He handed out printouts and a disk. “I worked with the witness for three hours. I think I got her close, but I’m not passing out cigars. You can only lead them so far,” he explained, and studied the printout image Eve held. “And you can tell when they’re just making things up, or mixing them up, or just going along so you’ll finish and let them go.”

Eve stared at the rendering and tried to see a resemblance to Alex Crew. Maybe, maybe around the eyes. Or maybe she just wanted to see it.

But this was no sixty-year-old man.

“She tried,” Yancy continued. “Really gave it her best shot. If we’d gotten to her closer to the time she saw the guy, I think we could’ve nailed it down. But a lot of time’s passed, and she sees dozens of men at her tables every day. Once we got to a certain point, she was just tossing in features at random.”

“Hypnosis could juggle her memory.”

“I tried that,” he said to Eve. “Mentioned it to her, and she freaked. No way, no how. Added to that, she caught a media report on the murder, and she’s freaked about that. This is going to be the best we get.”

“But is it him?” Eve demanded.

Yancy puffed out his cheeks, then deflated them. “I’d say we’re on, as far as the skin tone, the hair, the basic shape of the face. Eyes, the shape’s close, but I wouldn’t bank on color. She thought age-wise, late twenties, early thirties, then admitted that was because of the age of the girl. She bounced to thirties, back to twenties, then maybe older, maybe younger. She figures rich because he had an expensive wrist unit, paid in cash and added a substantial tip. And some of that played into her description.” He jerked a shoulder. “Smooth complexion, smooth manner.”

“Is it close enough to give it to the media, get some play?”

“Sorta stings the pride, but I wouldn’t. You gotta call it, Lieutenant, but my sense is we’re off. I think a cop, a trained observer, might be able to make him from this, but not a civilian. Sorry I couldn’t dunk it for you.”

“That’s okay. You probably got us closer than anybody else could. We’ll run this through an ID program, see if we get any hits.”

“You’re going to want to set for at least a thirty-percent adjustment.” Yancy shook his head at his own work. “With that, you’re going to get a few thousand hits, citywide alone.”

“It’s a start. Thanks, Yancy. Commander, I’d like to get moving on this.”

“Keep me in the loop.”

Back in her office, she pinned a copy of the artist rendering to her board. At her desk she cobbled her notes together into a report, then read it over to see the steps and stages.

She would leave the person search to Feeney, the electronic excavation to McNab. She sent a memo to Baxter detailing the new data and included a copy of Yancy’s sketch.

While Peabody worked to nail down the sealant, Eve looked at construction sites. Her ’link signaled an incoming through the data port, and switching over, she brought up a list of all properties with current construction or rehab licenses in a ten-block radius of the dump site.

Roarke was not only quick, she thought, but he got the gist without anyone having to spell it out.

She separated them into tenanted and untenanted.

Empty, she thought. Privacy. Hadn’t he waited until he believed the Gannon house was empty? There was little enough pattern, so she’d try this one on for size.

Empty buildings first.

Taking them, she broke them down a second time into construction and rehab.

Had to lure her in. Smarter to lure her rather than force or debilitate. She’s young and foolish, but she’s a girly girl, too. Would that type want to tromp around a construction site, even to make a date happy?

She rose, paced. Probably. What did she know about that kind of thing? Young girls in love, or who believed they were in love, probably did all sorts of things that went against type.

She’d never been a young girl in love. A few lust bouts along the way, but that was a different thing. She knew that much