“Cornfields? Cornfields? Do you know what can hide in cornfields- what might be lurking in the corn? Have you thought about that?”

“No, but I will now.”

“Give me a nice dark alley. Okay.” She shook it off, looked at the murder boardPeabody had set up for the briefing. “We talk to all three of the guys you popped. We visit the investigators on the Duberry and the Judge Moss cases, and we review the missing-persons report and that case file. I want to talk to the primary on a robbery homicide. ER doc, taken out in the parking lot of her hospital. They got a guy for it, but she popped on this Kirkendall custody deal, too. We reinterview any witnesses to those cases, recanvass. And if we ever get a goddamn composite from Yancy, we find a match.”

“Yancy's sketches are gold,”Peabody reminded her. “If he pulls a decent description out of the LC, we should be able to run it through the system, pop a name.”

“Step at a time.” She glanced over as Feeney walked in with McNab. She caught the suggestive look McNab sentPeabody, and tried to ignore it. They were in a cuddle stage of their relationship-new cohabs. She wasn't sure what it said about her to know she'd be relieved when they got back to sniping at each other.

“Put your hands, or your big, goofy mouth on my partner in this room, McNab, I'll rip those stupid hoops out of your ears so bloody strips of lobe fly around the room.”

In reflex, he lifted a hand to his ear and the quartet of bright blue hoops.

Feeney shook his head, spoke under his breath to Eve. “Hornier now, you ask me, than before they moved in together. Wish they'd start swiping at each other like before. This shit's getting creepy.”

It was good, Eve thought, to have someone on the team who showed good sense. To show solidarity, she gave him a slap on one of his slouched shoulders.

When Baxter and Trueheart arrived, they got coffee, the updated files.

“Detective Yancy should be joining us shortly,” Eve began. “If the wit comes through, we'll have faces. Meanwhile, we've found connections.”

Using both the board and the screen, Eve briefed the team on the potential links between the Swishers and the two other victims.

“If this same person or persons killed or arranged to have killed Moss, Duberry, and the Swisher family, we can see by the time frame that these murders are not only carefully planned, but that the person or persons behind them are controlled, patient, careful. This is no psychopath on a spree, but a purposeful man on a mission. One with connections of his own, with skill and/or the money or resources to hire those with skill. He does not work alone, but as part of a well-honed team.”

“Cop killers,” Baxter said without any of his usual humor.

“Cop killers,” Eve confirmed. “But the fact that they were cops was irrelevant. They were obstacles, nothing more.”

“But not collateral damage.” Trueheart looked surprised, even slightly embarrassed to realize he'd spoken aloud. “What I mean, Lieutenant, is that Detectives Knight andPreston weren't bystanders or innocent victims from the killers' points of view. They were what I guess we could call enemy guards?”

“Agreed. This is a small, very personal war. With very specific objectives. One of those objectives has not been met. Nixie Swisher.” She brought the child's ID image onscreen.

“Given what we know, we can speculate that the survivor is no threat to them. She is a child, one who saw nothing that can lead to the identification of the individuals who killed the family. In any case, what she saw, what she knew, had already been reported. Her death gains nothing. It is probable they abducted Meredith Newman, likely they interrogated her, under duress, and gained the knowledge that the survivor knew nothing that would lead us to their identity.”

“But they don't give it a wash.” Baxter studied the child. “They don't move on, consider it done. They put together another operation to try to find and eliminate her, and instead take down two cops.”

“The mission isn't complete, therefore the mission has not been successful. What did they want from the Swishers?”

“Their lives,” Baxter answered.

“Their family. The destruction of their family. You take mine, I'll take yours. So they continue to hunt the last remaining member, illustrating a need for completion, for perfection, for a fulfillment of the work. With the murder of Knight andPreston, a message was sent. They will engage the enemy, they will eliminate obstacles. They will complete their mission.”

“Hell they will,” Feeney voiced.

“Hell they will. DetectivePeabody?”

Peabodyjolted, blinked at Eve. “Sir?”

“Brief the rest of the team on the results of your recent search.”

“Ahhh.” She cleared her throat and rose. “At Lieutenant Dallas's orders, I conducted a search for any individuals who fit our current profile who were involved in a trial or case that included Swisher, Moss, and Duberry. The search resulted in three individuals. The first, Donaldson, John Jay, Sergeant USMC, retired.”

She ordered image and data on-screen and relayed the details of the divorce case.

“Looks like a jarhead.” Baxter shrugged when Eve frowned at him. “That's what my grandfather called marines. He was regular army during the Urbans.”

“You and Trueheart will take the jarhead. It's possible he wasn't satisfied with the court's decision. Peabody, next up.”

“Next is Glick, Viktor, LieutenantColonel, U. S. Army, active and based atFortHamilton, Brooklyn.”

WhenPeabody finished the data, Eve gestured to Feeney. “You and McNab up for some field work inBrooklyn?”

“Can do. I'm going to enjoy seeing what the army makes of our E-Division fashion plate.”

“Peabody and I will take the last. Peabody?”

“Kirkendall, Roger, Sergeant, U. S. Army, retired.”

When the data was complete, she sat down with obvious relief.

“Kirkendall,” Eve continued, “also has a connect to a Brenegan, Jaynene, who was stabbed to death in a parking lot outside the health center where she served as an ER doc. They got a guy for that, but it bears looking at. Baxter, reach out to the investigators on that. Let's see if anything rings.”

“You thinking they hired somebody to hit the doctor?”

“No. They're too smart to hire some junkie and leave him alive after. Just covering all the ground. We'll need clearance in order to acquire the full military records of these three individuals,” Eve added. “Which, let's face it, isn't going to be a snap. I'll start fighting through the red tape there. Unless I get clear to handle it myself, I want you to talk to the primary on the Duberry case.”

She stopped when Yancy entered.

“Lieutenant.” He walked over, handed her a disc. “As ordered.”

“Have a seat, Detective. Give us the rundown.”

She plugged in the disc herself, called up the images on two screens.

On each screen a nearly identical face appeared. Squared, tough, pale brows, close-cut hair. The lips were firm, noses sharply planed.

Ears close to the head, she noted. Eyes cold and pale. She judged them both to be early fifties.

“The witness was cooperative, and got a good, close-up look at both men. However, she, at least initially,” Yancy added with a flick of a glance at Eve, “had trouble with details. Both men wore watch caps and sun shades which can be seen in the next sketch. But working with the witness, and adding probability of certain details, i. e, natural eye color, given the lightness of the brows, eye shape given the facial structure, we can assume.”

“How close an assumption?”

“Close as I can get. I ran probabilities on these, with the data received from the wit. It comes to ninety-six and change. I was also able to get full-length composites. The witness recalled the body types in detail. Next sketch.”

Now Eve studied two muscular, well-built men, wide at the shoulders, narrow at the hip. Both wore black-turtleneck-style shirt; loose, straight pants; jump boots-and carried bags cross-body. Yancy had added projected heights and weights.