Eve could react, Rochelle had her hand, pulling her right in.
“I didn’t think you’d still be here.”
“It’s a big day, and I haven’t been able to drag myself away. Wilson just left. I’m going to meet him for a celebratory dinner in an hour.”
“I don’t want to keep you.”
“No, no, let me show you through. I’ve laughed and cried so many times today, I’ve lost count. So forgive me if I do both. The day students are gone now, and most of the live-ins are either in the kitchen or still unpacking, fussing with their rooms.”
They went through classrooms, study areas, recreation areas—cheerful spaces, clean, bright.
Science areas, occupational areas, music rooms, a theater.
“He didn’t miss a trick, did he?” Eve mused.
“No, he didn’t. I wish you could have seen the reaction of some of the kids today, of the parents and guardians. So many of them never had a place like this, an opportunity like this. I know not all will make it, but many will. So many will.”
They went back, through the dining hall into the main kitchen. A small swarm of kids, three adults—staff—with the adults guiding the kids through making the meal.
It smelled amazing.
“We won’t interrupt. Carlo, the head chef? He’s a real find. He’ll teach the students both the art and science of cooking. We’ll educate them on nutrition, but also the fun of it.”
“Cooking’s fun?”
“According to Carlo. We also have the workshop kitchen for students who advance or have serious interests.”
Upstairs, more classrooms, more areas for gathering, for study, for specific interests.
And in what Rochelle called the video and communication area, she saw a vid of the school on-screen with Nadine and Quilla watching.
“Sorry,” Rochelle said. “We’re interrupting. I didn’t realize you were still here, Nadine.”
“Nearly done.” She gave Eve a long look with her sharp reporter’s eyes. “Quilla, start on the edits we talked about. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay, but, I want to …” She rose, walked over to Eve, stuck out a hand.
Bemused, Eve shook it.
“I don’t much like hugs, either—they’re weird. I just want to say thank you.”
“Okay. You’re welcome. How’s it going?”
“It’s going freaking mag. Nadine’s going to put a clip from my vid on Now.”
“Do those edits,” Nadine reminded her. “Then we’ll discuss.”
“I’m all over it.”
“I’ll leave you to talk.” Rochelle stepped back. “Oh well, I’m sorry you don’t much like hugs.” And hugged Eve hard.
Since Eve had her back to her, she didn’t see Quilla catch the moment on her camera.
“I’m going to go laugh and cry again before I meet Wilson for dinner.”
“Tell Crack—ah, Wilson—the white girl said hey.”
“I will. What a day. What an absolutely amazing day.”
She went off, sniffling a little, and Nadine took Eve’s arm to lead her out of Quilla’s earshot.
“Tell me first, as a friend, how is Roarke, how are you?”
“We’re fine. I can’t say it’s been an amazing day, but we’re fine. We’re handling it.”
“I’ve done what research I can on Cobbe. There’s probably nothing you don’t know, but I’ll send it to you. Now tell me if there’s anything else I can do.”
“We’re handling it.” She could see Quilla doing something—those edits—with the vid. She heard her recorded voice, the voices of other children, the energy of it all.
“We’re close. I know we’re close, and he doesn’t know how close. I want to keep it that way.”
“Nothing goes on the air unless you clear it. I say that as a professional who has always, and will always, cooperate with an investigation, but also as your friend. As Roarke’s. You know that, Dallas.”
“I do know that. Are you teaching her that?”
Nadine glanced back at Quilla. “You’re damn right I am, but she’s already got that. She’s got integrity as well as enthusiasm, and considerable talent. I downplay that because she needs the discipline. I’m a little bit crazy about that kid.”
“Looks mutual to me.” Then Eve sighed. “He killed another woman. Not professionally.”
“Who? When? How?”
“You can break the murder—Kaylee Skye—but not the Cobbe connection. I don’t want him to know we know. Not yet. Consensual sex that went south, turned to rape/murder. He strangled her.”
Frowning, Nadine shook her head. “He uses sharps. You’re sure it’s him?”
“He wasn’t working—you want to research? I’m betting he’s killed like this before. Unsolveds. He goes for lookers, quick pickups. He may have killed some LCs along the way, but most likely civilians because it would be too easy to trace an LC back to him. He’d want to protect his aliases, so civilians, like Skye.”
“I’ll see