hitched, tore, and the tears rolled down again. “If I try to go after him for it now, after all this time, I will be singing on street corners.”
“No, you won’t. But we’ll leave that for now. You told this story, identified the man who raped you, in your support group.”
“That’s the whole point of the group.”
“Did anyone speak to you more about it, outside of the group?”
“Yeah, some of us went for coffee and bitch sessions after. I did that sometimes.”
“I need names, full names if you have them. We need to talk to them the way we’re talking to you.”
“It doesn’t feel right.”
“We’ve already talked to Jasmine Quirk, Leah Lester, Darla Pettigrew, Una Ruzaki, Rachel Fassley. And Natalia. We have interviews scheduled with Mae Ming, Sasha Cullins, and Bree Macgowan.”
Jacie pressed her lips together. “I don’t know a Jasmine or Leah from group.”
“Jasmine moved away, and Leah hasn’t been for a while,” Peabody told her. “Do you know the other women the lieutenant mentioned? Were they part of your coffee sessions?”
“It’s not always the same people. I can’t always go after the meeting. But I’ve had coffee with everyone you mentioned. Honestly, the only other one I know like that is Sherri Brinkman. Another one dumped by an ex for a younger, but not before he gave her an STD, and pretty much hosed her in the divorce because he’s the one with all the money and the lawyers. She’s like sixty, and maybe hits five-two, a hundred and ten. There’s no way she could do what’s in that folder.”
“Okay. Can you give me an idea how long she’s been in the group?”
“She was part of it before I started going in October.”
“Jacie, when we talk to her, when we talk to the others,” Peabody said gently, “we’re not the enemy. We need to find who’s responsible for these murders, but that doesn’t make us the enemy.”
When Jacie shrugged, stared down at the table, Eve leaned back. “Do you know Mavis Freestone?”
Jacie looked up with a smirk. “Oh sure, me and Mavis, we’re tight. We have lunch every week. Jesus.”
Eve pulled out one of her cards. “Peabody, do you have something to write with?”
Peabody dug out a pencil, handed it over.
“Still got that audition recording?”
“I’ve got my copy, sure.”
“Give me an hour, then tag Mavis at this number. Tell her as much or as little as you want, but tell her Dallas said she should listen to your audition recording.”
Jacie took the card, stared at it. “Are you bullshitting me?”
“What would be the point? It happens that Mavis and I actually are tight. What happens next there is up to you.”
Now tears shimmered, but didn’t roll. She stared at Eve with incredulity, and with just the faintest light of hope.
“Why? Why would you do this?”
“Because we’re not the enemy. Now, whether or not you opt, at any time, to file charges against Ryder Cooke, we will investigate him. You wouldn’t have been the only one. I’m going to do whatever I can to keep him out of this folder, and whatever I can to put him in a cage. That’s it.”
“I—I need to think about it.”
“All right. My number’s on the other side of the card. Thanks for coming in.”
After Jacie, visibly dazed, left, Peabody blinked damp eyes. “That was a totally frigid thing to do, Dallas. Mega frigid.”
“Didn’t cost me anything. Run Sherri Brinkman before you contact her, ask her to come in.”
“Sure.” Peabody got up, started for the door. “Mostly what we do is go after bad guys. It’s nice when we can do something positive.”
“Going after bad guys is plenty positive in my book.”
“You know what I’m saying.”
Yeah, Eve thought when Peabody went out. I do.
She contacted Mavis, got a perky message:
Hey! Abso-truly wish I could chat, but I’m in the studio. Lay a message on me. Cha!
“It’s Dallas. Expect a tag from a Jacie Pepperdine. Do me a solid, okay, and arrange to listen to her audition recording. If it doesn’t blow, pass it to Roarke. Appreciate it.”
She toggled to tag Nadine.
“Ready for that one-on-one?”
“You got it with Peabody. This is semi-connected, and I’m tossing you a big, stinking fish.”
“Mmm, my favorite kind. Does the fish have a name?”
“Ryder Cooke.”
Nadine angled her head, narrowed her eyes. “Don’t tell me you’ve got him on a slab.”
“No, and I hope to avoid that. You’re going to want to start digging, Nadine. I’ve got a woman who won’t, as yet, file a formal complaint, but she’s very